I hesitate to affiliate with any group, but somehow, Jews keep finding and charming me, probably because I'm one of them.
Isn’t that what nesting is? A physical manifestation of a promise? A way of convincing ourselves that this time will be different? And it delivered.
And other Yom Kippur tips for embracing our imperfect selves.
I act like a nervous lunatic when I encounter people who upset me in the past. Maybe I should calm down and see them as fodder for an adventure.
None of my own accomplishments matter. I only want what you have.
Given the options, I’m glad I don’t fit in. I’m glad I keep my eyes open. I’m glad institutions make my skin crawl, that being in church—or anyplace that feels like a western, Christian, colonized knockoff—doesn’t feel right to me.