Woke up. Got ready for a long walk. Placed a key in my pants pocket. Looked for my wallet. Where’s my wallet? Not where I usually keep it. Not anywhere to be found. I walk and meditate with a friend on Mondays and it was time to leave and walk up to Mt. Davidson. I had time to think about how I was feeling – trying to keep the panic down. I’m getting ready to travel and need my credit card, driver’s license, and medical card. The fear of not being able to replace these in the next three days is manifesting in real physical symptoms. My heart is racing. My stomach feels tense. I feel that hand tingling sensation that comes with anxiety.

I don’t cancel my walk. We walk and talk over Skype. My walking partner is in the UK. She tells me her news. I raptly listen. I tell her my news. Then we commence our 30 minute walking meditation. Ordinarily my walking meditation includes just sensing, feeling, and being. If I find myself thinking I just take a big breath and think the words: “sensing, feeling, being,” but today, there was just thinking, thinking, and more thinking. What if I can’t find my wallet? What an idiot I am to feel this bad about a mere wallet. What sort of person am I? Maybe I could use this sensation to have more empathy for others who are suffering, for whatever reason. If I feel this bad about a wallet, how do people feel when they are given a grave medical diagnosis? when they have a panic disorder? when they are grieving? unsure? scared? Use this time. Use this sensation to understand others’ suffering. Remember how you are feeling. Don’t forget.

I returned home, emptying drawers from my dresser, looking in my suitcase, going over and over the same areas of our two room living space. I go through a travel bag for the fourth time and find a zipper that I forgot to unzip, and voila! There was my wallet. What a relief. And what a lesson!

I belong to an online synagogue. Someone posed a question to all of us to write in five words or less what we’re looking forward to this week. I wrote “Making sense of all this” which leads me to attempt to write this piece that you are now reading.

How do we “make sense of all this?” Do we look at the angst of being locked down to avoid causing others’ or our own deaths? Do we look at the new opportunities we have for re-orienting ourselves and take it as a transformative moment? Do we try to derive some meaning from the situation? Do we learn to bake sourdough bread? Are there answers as varied as there are people? Honestly, all I can do is speak from my own vantagepoint.

Savoring the special moments

I find that my answers vary from moment to moment. The intensity of our restrictions has led me to savor the special moments more than I have done in the past.

I love having more time with my husband. We’ve been together for 52 years and slowing down my busyness outside of the house has been a gift for our relationship. Also, having combined households after quarantining I have the special moments with my almost six-year-old grandson, drawing together, doing theatre exercises, watching the Marx Brothers doing the mirror sketch and trying it out ourselves, just hearing his take on the world right now, his sweet voice (when he’s not being a dinosaur). I love the brief moments of holding my 3-week-old granddaughter, watching her fleeting smiles and hearing her sweet sounds. Our joint family Shabbat dinner Friday night has a new intensity and meaningfulness, especially after our months of having to be apart.

Hiking, while masked, of course, to the top of Mt. Davidson each day reminds me that in spite of all this angst, there is the beauty of nature – the trees blowing in the wind, the birds singing, the view of San Francisco from the top of the mountain, the fresh air, sometimes misty and sometimes clear.

Yes, I am baking sourdough country loaves and English Muffins and challah. I don’t think it’s an accident that so many of us are baking bread right now. Whether your yeast is store-bought or created, yeast grows – it’s alive, it’s kneaded and needed, and it helps to create a beautiful, delicious food that feeds the body and the soul.

Becoming more conscious of social justice issues

The seriousness of our situation across the entire planet seems to have opened our hearts more. I don’t think it’s an accident that white people are finally on board with the Black Lives Matter movement. Our avoidance because of discomfort is not an option and we are finally aware of this. Society will change because of this pandemic!

Learning to pay attention to science

We are being made even more aware of the contribution of scientists to our well-being. Maybe more people will take global warming seriously after realizing that our lives depend upon the skills being applied worldwide by epidemiologists and virology experts.

Contemplation

This lockdown has encouraged me to meditate more and to be more contemplative. Yesterday I read the recently published in English book, Yes to Life in Spite of Everything. Viktor Frankl helps me to make sense of everything. In the prologue, Daniel Goleman reflects upon Frankl’s perspective about how we find meaning no matter what our circumstance. Here he is talking about life in a concentration camp, surely a more angst-ridden condition than what we are experiencing, yet . . . (bold, italics mine)

“Despite the cruelty visited on prisoners by the guards, the beatings, torture, and constant threat of death, there was one part of their lives that remained free: their own minds. The hopes, imagination, and dreams of prisoners were up to them, despite their awful circumstances. This inner ability was real human freedom; people are prepared to starve, he saw, ‘if starvation has a purpose or meaning.’ The lesson Frankl drew from this existential fact: our perspective on life’s events—what we make of them—matters as much or more than what actually befalls us.

– Frankl, Viktor E.. Yes to Life (p. 17). Beacon Press. Kindle Edition.

How do you make sense of this? I’d love to hear your perspective.

The crack is so wide open that the light is pouring in.

Like all of you, I’m confined and waiting for the COVID 19 virus crisis to end. The world has been shaken and the response has been profound.

Weeks ago we were simply stewing about political differences, even raging about our political leadership. Some people were escaping into various activities and pleasures. Some were engaging in debates on social media. Some were simply in a routine, not thinking a whole lot about what they were doing, or overworked, they were just thinking about getting a good night’s sleep before beginning the next day.

I haven’t been writing much lately. For quite a while, I’ve been working on a self-improvement project, trying to be more loving, trying to offer service to the community, trying to be political without being overly judgmental and righteous, trying to slow down and be more aware of my surroundings and more aware of what I need to change in myself to be more in sync with those around me.

Beware what you wish for.

Here I am, wiping my tears after hearing from the person doing my shopping (I have to order food from stores because I’m over 60 and have been advised not to go out). The shopper from the shopping service writes to me that the line at the store is very long and it will be a while before she can begin to choose items from my list. I write to her to please take her time and stay safely 6 feet behind anyone. She responds, “always.” I cry. This person who I don’t even know is risking her life to pick out groceries for me. She needs this job and she is there, standing in a long line, waiting to choose grocery items so I will be able to cook meals.

This crisis has cracked my heart open. I’m thinking about my friends and family more. I’m thinking about the caregivers and all those people working to fill others’ basic needs. Even watching the starter dough rise each day and fall before I feed it makes my heart swell. Life force.

So here we are. Forced to slow down. Forced to pay attention. My world will be different when this is over. Hopefully, yours will, too. Sending love, light, and hope.

Tomorrow I get to experience two learning experiences. First, the middle way in science, starting with a reading by Richard Feynman about the uncertainty of science. Then comes the first day of Talmud study, Daf Yomi, a 7.5 year one page per day excursion into the Talmud. What do these seemingly opposite fields of study have in common? Way more than you would think! Here are a few bullet points that both have in common:

• Uncertainty
• Doubt
• Dialogue
• Discovery
• Continuation through time
• Commitment

What is different about these endeavors? The obvious answer is that one seeks to understand nature. The other seeks to understand what humans should do. There is no instruction in science about what the effects may be of science. Think about the nuclear bomb, for example. This is the obvious answer, and there is much truth to this, but maybe we should ask ourselves what the effects of Talmud discourse have been on women, for example. The men who wrote the Talmud clearly did not know that the role of women would be quite different in modern times than it was when they were writing. Some would say that Talmudic discourse might have been used to keep women in their place. So the effects of both science and Talmud are not always predictable.

Why even discuss this comparison?

We need to know how to fix the planet (science).

We need to know that it’s our task to fix the planet (Talmud).

We need to learn to hear each other (science and Talmud).

We need to learn to speak to each other (science and Talmud).

We need to know that how we conduct ourselves scientifically and conscientiously will have an effect now and in the future.

That is all.

I saw the bus stand, a place with four individual seats for those who wanted to sit while waiting for the bus. This was rush hour. The seats are usually filled by the time I get there, but today there were three vacant seats. I soon learned why. The person sitting in the far left seat was loudly shrieking every 10 seconds or so. I sat in the right-most seat. My ears could take it, and I hate standing to wait for the bus. I started thinking about what would happen if I talked to the person who was shrieking. Would I help him to temporarily break the spell of his madness? I didn’t ponder the question for a long time because a young woman stepped up with her 3-year-old son. She sat him near to the fellow who was shrieking, with only one seat between them. Soon, they are making cute little noises at each other. First, the child, and then the man made a soft sound, back and forth, repeatedly. These two, the noisy man and the 3-year-old were basically cooing at each other, and smiling. The spell was broken, at least temporarily. I had my answer.

Once upon a time I lived in a tight-knit, somewhat parochial community. It was probably a little bit more diverse than some Jewish communities. We were on the South Side of Chicago; but our synagogue, affiliated youth groups, and families were the main centers of our concern. I moved on, went to college, broadened my horizons, became an activist – I’ve talked about that before. Right now, though, I’ve been reflecting about my human connections outside of family and realize that I am webbed!

What do I mean by webbed? The word is best explained by example. The other night, my husband and I finished a TV series called Shtisel, a show available on Netflix, but filmed in Israel. We were moved in the way one is moved by a good novel. I looked and found a Facebook page of people who like to discuss this program. In a day, I was part of the Shtisel community. The questions that people pose on this site are often deep and meaningful. It’s a pleasure to have a dialogue with the diverse group of people who love this show. I am Shtisel webbed!

I’ve been trying to find a local Jewish community with shared values, not always an easy task for a humanist Jew, such as myself. I want to start an in-person community that meets on Shabbat for meditation and singing for anyone, independent of belief, but I also want to connect with other like-minded Jews and friends of Jews who share a humanist perspective. As you know I joined SecularSynagogue.com and each week I realize that a great choice this was. The sharing, the camaraderie, the inspiration from our rabbi, all make it a great community. I am SecularSynagogue webbed!

I meditate weekly on Skype with the Middle Way Society, and attend classes and meetings with other members. I’m Middle Way Society webbed!

There are activist, Buddhist, education, parenting; so many web-based communities out there. I am grateful to those who created them.

There is much talk lately of the crimes of the Internet; the influence of Russia on the U.S. election, the trolling, the fake news, and other problems with social media. But I would hate to paint a totally negative picture about the Internet when I have been so successfully webbed! People control the Internet. Let’s web ourselves together in real communities. Who knows? Maybe we’ll influence each other to help change our current situation. We’ll give each other the courage and strength to move forward.

Can ordinary life be like a vacation? What do we do differently that makes a vacation enjoyable and a return to home less than wonderful? I’ve been thinking about this because we just came home from living in Rome for most of December. The return has been difficult, not just because of jet lag and a bad cold, but because my consciousness has switched to home mode when it could very well be in Rome mode. How, you may ask?

There are two ways that define my general manner when I’m at home. One is that I tend to hurry. I am in the habit of being quite busy so I rush to get things done. I even rush to brush my teeth in the morning; rush to make breakfast; rush to read through the paper and even hurry to finish the crossword puzzle.

The other is that I am often thinking about something else when I move about, including when I’m outside going somewhere. What should I cook tonight? When is the next meeting at my house? Have I sent the email to remind people? I allow so much mind banter that I don’t see anything around me. I find myself on my way to a class without having seen anything from house to bus to train to other bus, even though there is so much to see!!

What are the two ways that defined our stay in Rome?

First, we moved slowly. When we were in Rome I didn’t feel rushed in the morning. I slowly put the coffee in the Italian coffee maker, put the contraption on the stove under medium heat and waited for the characteristic hiss and bubbling that let me know the coffee was ready. I didn’t look at the clock – time to go to the gym for Tai Chi . . .time to go singing . . .no, just sat back and waited for the appropriate sounds from the coffee maker.

Second, I always noticed the beauty all around me, from the sky to the old ruins and colorful buildings; the old churches, a few with their Caravaggios or spectacular mosaics; the piazzas, the restaurants, the pizza places; the fountains, the trees, the birds, the people – everything. I was alert and saw what was around me. I wasn’t in my head thinking about what I needed to do next.

Now, San Francisco is not Rome. Rome has more to see than almost anywhere I’ve ever been, but, the sky is the sky, trees are trees, birds are birds, people are people, vistas are vistas. There is beauty everywhere if you allow yourself the time and attention to see it.

My New Years resolution this year is to slow down and experience my surroundings without being distracted by busy thought. Thank you, Rome!