Subway Sonnet

All standing in isolation with determination

avoiding anothers gaze as if in a daze

to abide with the jive of the rules

unspoken as not to crack open the divide

that permeates the air

like a bear

claws out

waiting to ensnare his next victim

to separate it from the world it lives in

introducing it to a new dimension

opening its eyes from the disguise

to form a connection to attach

and create a flicker of affection between two strangers

diminishing the dangers that once stood in the midst of pretentiousness

replacing it with a sense of attentive joyfulness

of re-kindeling a spark between two souls

that may have met in the dark

at a moment in history

transforming a bit of their mystery into familiarity

that seeks a bond through forging a memory fond

by blazing past the facade of individual glory and touching the core

embracing the person

reaching in to ignite their flame thats ablaze

instead of focusing on the face that reflects a heart unsure of the expectations

guarded thoughts stewing and remain brewing until a brave soul breaks past the barrier

because of a crave to forgoe the games that we play
dancing around one another afraid to step on some toes

and play it straight, unlocking the gate that holds back the droves from mingling

and becoming awake acknowledging the link that connects us

to the fate of the people that sorround us

beckoning our minds to resound with thoughts of peace

and astound those around with the simple gesture of smile that can last for miles

no beguile just the real deal, sincere, a move that in a blink of an eye does not disappear

but lingers in the clear open air, exposed, on their lips to express their thoughtfulness

a moment is all it takes to recognize the importance of the lives that stands before us

in isolation and then in valediction as we pierce their soul with a dose of love and

then continue amongst the throngs carrying a piece of what is above

eternal soul, eternal bond,

isolation is a relic of the past that will take more than a blast

to remove from the ancient rubble

of lost eyes, alone, refusing to appeal to their human guise and remaining in aggravation

now a community, alone but together

sharing the pleasure of a clear reality, no more insanity,

of feigning independence

but returning the gaze with a nod of the head

a clear validation of what has been said

You exist.

Truth Sells

Irony plagues the media coverage surrounding the recent deaths of two famous people; Anna Nicole Smith and Kurt Vonnegut (I cringe even placing them in the same sentence.) Anna Nicole Smith, whose story has been played and replayed in the media for the past couple weeks, represents much of what has gone awry in our society. The focus on physical perfection and beauty, the portrayal of women as nothing more than a piece of meat and the flagrant display of sexual behavior with disregard for human dignity, privacy and morals.

Contrasted to the media coverage for Kurt Vonnegut, an author and philosopher, who utilized his incredible expressive abilities to educate the world and promote wholeness and goodness, trying to raise the moral standards of society. Tributes to him were written up in newspapers around the world but have ceased merely a few days after his passing.

Considering that the news only prints what will sell, it is a wonder that news of Smith's death continues to appear in various national media (even in Forbes magazine) whereas Vonnegut's death has stopped attracting mass attention. It seems as though society has more interest in gossip, sex and scandals than philosophy, academia, and morals. Granted the controversial circumstances, when the world mourns the death of a sex symbol for almost two months, yet after a few days pretty much disregards the death of a brilliant and moral writer, something is off kilter.

In an age where rap music climbs the charts, gigantic ads of scantily clad models stare down at you in the heart of Manhattan, teenage pregnancy (and abortion) is on the rise and the average age for physical intimacy has decreased to the ripe old age of 15, I am forced to wonder where our morals and values have gone. What are we teaching ourselves and our children if the concepts of modesty, privacy and boundaries no longer exist in our world? Where are our priorities? How does it happen that a nation founded on principles of morality has spiraled to one that promotes such immorality?

The root of modesty is the acknowledgment of the worth of a life, the recognition that a person is comprised of more than a body, that there is a soul that is the true life force of the person and the body merely serves to clothe the soul in order for it to achieve its purpose in this world. Modesty is about having high expectations for your personal behavior about raising the bar higher with each passing day and reaching a point of transcendence where our thoughts, speech and actions are for a purpose beyond ourselves. They become about building the world and others and not promoting ourselves.
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Our founding fathers were men of action who realized that it was time to break free of the destructive bonds of the British monarchy and utilize their powers as humans to create a better future for the coming generations. They founded this country with integrity, values, a concept of building and caring for the world that was bestowed upon us and an awareness of G-d and His goodness. Some point throughout history the declaration of independence, where they espoused these values, began to lose some of its impact and meaning and has becoming a historical document that we read, but not necessarily one that we live by and study so we can keep up the integrity of their intents. Their beliefs stemmed from a deeper place, the wisdom of the Torah, which defines the values they laid out in clear terms.

At the core of each and every person there lies a yearning for clarity, for truth. Along with that core comes a animalistic aspect to humanity, one that when harnessed and channeled towards the pursuit of truth can break incredible bounds, but when used for the furtherance of its own desires can lead to destruction. Many revolutions in history were a result of the recognition that their lives were not ones of truth and integrity. That they were not allowed the freedom to utilize their talents and promote goodness and building in the world.

This was the deeper intent of the founding fathers when they said life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. These three dictates were about building, not destroying. They were about the equal ability and right of each and every person to lead a life-be allowed to live and grow and choose their path in life. A life that is liberating, not free from all obligations to humanity but liberating, not free to create chaos, but liberated to create clear boundaries. And to pursue happiness, to seek out your unique role in the world and find joy in it.

We must tap back into our roots, the roots of integrity and boundaries, of a G-d awareness, which provides us with a sense of responsibility to our world and the people who inhabit it. Only then will we be able to create a fully functioning, whole and healthy world, a world of builders not of destroyers, a world that praises and acknowledges those who enhance the G-Dliness in this world and scorns those who reject and discard the G-Dliness in this world. A place where we can cultivate a true sense of modesty.

Rebbetzin Jungreis Unplugged

She is an incredible woman; Holocaust survivor, widow, mother, teacher, friend, the list goes on.

Calling her a survivor is an insult to her. She is a thriver. Amidst complete darkness she arose and conquered. She did not complain and pity herself, she lifted herself high above the rubble and said lets act, there is no time to waste.

Even after her precious husband passed away, she did not let her pain paralyze her, rather she grew through and accepted her life with love, persevering and continuing her incredible contributions.

She is my heroine.

She stands there, a refined, majestic, elegant woman in her 70's, speaking to a captivated audience with a fiery tone and bluntness that only she can use, combined with sincere love and compassion, which dissapates any lingering sharpness and enables her words to enter straight into the heart of the receiver.

She speaks of emunah and bitachon, faith in the Almighty, our Creator, our Redeemer, with more passion and conviction then others who have felt little pain in their lives.

When she smiles at you, at that moment it is just the two of you, amidst hundreds and she cares only for you, only of your needs.

Her piercing eyes go straight to your soul, seeing all the goodness and holiness each person encompasses.

Her mission in life is unparalleled by anyone alive today. She sought out and continuously seeks to connect to every Jewish soul, providing them with a warm and loving view of a beautiful heritage they have been distant from.

She reaches and is able to touch Jews in all corners of the earth with her wisdom, compassion and immense love.

She strives to understand each person and their individual needs, remaining unyielding until she gives them to a strong footing, guiding them to a climate where they can cultivate and unmask their G-dly soul.

No task is too large, no hurdle too daunting as she surges forth claiming responsibility for the nation she calls her own, pouring her wellsprings of energy into every act within her long-reaching grasp.

She derives her strength from an internal source that is reservoir of endless giving. She holds on to the coat-tails of her forefathers and foremothers for merit and inspiration, looking to G-d for guidance, encouragment and help in her holy task.

She goes places no others dare to go, speaking words no others dare to speak, acting in ways that most people shy away from, and transcends time and space accomplishing more than most even dream of, captivating the hearts and minds of millions around the globe and helping them tap into their potential and return to their true source.

Like I said, she is my heroine.

limited expression of eternal pain

There he was, standing in all of his glory, smiling, a caftan wrapped around his neck like a tallis, the rebbe smiling at him, basking in the light of his holy sefarim that he, in the truest sense of the word, owns. Then he is gone. His soul no longer rests in his body, it lays lifeless, the loss too huge for anyone to grasp. The shock overwhelms, the pain sets in deep, there are no words for comfort, no words to express the intense sorrow, only tears. Tears that come from an abyss, a black hole that never seems to end, but flows and flows without stopping, no end in sight to the pain, the sadness, the grief. Denial, the body tenses up, the thoughts overwhelm and the mind goes blank there is no way to heal. The light has left the room. We can see no longer. The guiding light that shone so bright has dimmed in this world, but has moved to higher spheres, spheres that don't need external light, but that shine eternally. It is not real, the loss is not real, it is all a joke, a cruel joke, he is still here, amongst us, breathing, smiling, laughing, waiting to walk up his front steps and kiss his children hello. What happens when we lose, we feel empty, like we have been drained of our energy, lifeless....no matter how many times we hear, it cannot be believed, that a loving, adoring, holy, intensely kind, sympathetic, giving, deep and brilliant father, son, husband, friend, rebbi could be taken from this world in such a short notice, and what of the broken children, being left fatherless, and the mother, without her other half. Hashem we don't understand Your ways, we don't understand the pain we go through, we don’t understand when you take holy souls from this world to the next. When will our suffering end, when will we see You revealed only through happy times. Let us peek at Your tapestry so we can lessen our pain, so we can see your holy plan, so we can feel a release from some of our sorrow to live another tomorrow and be able to grow and throw up our hands and say we see Your goodness and can dwell in peacefulness to make right what is amiss in our world that you created amidst the bliss of nothingness and continue to give life and allowing our souls to express the gift that You placed into it and shift when the wheel starts to turn and yearn for the redemption to come so we can be one with You and our nation can be whole to put the pieces back together to fulfill our role and fill the gaping hole that separates us from You and the holy souls that you tore from this world like a sore that wont heal bring us back together in a home soft like feathers that can break our fall when the pain hits us hard like a dart in the heart that pierces straight through with a start without warning that its coming to tear us apart, Hashem heal.

I know His Name

He calls himself Charlie. G-d planted him in the subway car that I was in yesterday; He planted him about two feet away from me. I watched him, a smile forming in my mind and playing on my lips, as he talked to himself, muttered comments, and sang a little niggun with no care that people were watching. I looked around to see what other people were thinking and the look on their faces said with partial amusement and exasperation, "Another nameless crazy person with no where to go that we have to deal with after a hard days work," but I know better.

I know he has a name
I know that he lives in Crown Heights
I know that the Rebbe was very fond of him
I know that he makes people smile
I know that people that know him, love him
I know he was created in G-D's image
I know that he has a unique mission in life

I see a G-dly soul, who was put into a body and position in life that is not mainstream, trying to fulfill its mission and bring joy to the world.

But, all they see is a white man, with a unkempt white beard, big plastic rimmed glasses, wearing a pair of jean overalls with a white shirt underneath, his tzitzis flying in and out of his jeans, a large round yarmulka perched atop his head with an array of pins strategically placed around it and a slew of shopping bags filled with who knows what, muttering and singing to himself.

If they think he is crazy and I know better, then who's to say that people who look crazy to me actually matter to someone, and have a name and a place they call home.

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I ran into Charlie again today in my neighborhood, the upper west side. I saw him as I was walking home and I heard him say to someone happy Chanukah. Being that I was only a few feet away from him I called to him, "Freilichin Purim" to which he responded, "Purim is coming up, it is still the time of Chanukah."

I walked with Charlie down the street as he explained to me how he came up with that calculation, quoting the Rebbe. As he talked I was in my own head smiling to myself in amusement over his words thinking, "here he goes." I caught myself treating him without due dignity and gave myself a metaphorical splash of cold water on my face, saying, "Raizel, if you were thinking just yesterday that he is a person with a soul, someone to respect, then listen to what he has to say!" So I listened, even though I still didn't quite understand what he was saying.

He proceeded to inquire as to who I was, he asked me my name and where I was from. When I explained I was from Seattle, he said with excitement and another one of his big, warm smiles, "Oh! Welcome to New York, our playground," and when I told him what I was studying he said, "This city subsists on psychologists, your in the right place." He knows what he is talking about.

He went into shul to daven, and I continued home with a big smile on my face and a warm feeling in my heart. As I strolled down the street I couldn't help myself from smiling, and I thought, people probably are perceiving me as a little weird. Who smiles to themselves? A frown, a scowl or a sulking face, thats normal, but to smile to yourself while walking down the street, that is a warning bell.

Who is the crazy one now?

I Live in the Projects

I stroll through the wide pathway, the looming, identical brick buildings threaten to engulf me, a tall, green gate guarding the rusty dumpsters, I hear little kids using four-letter words I never even heard until I was at least 15 years old, I pass two gangsta’s talking about someone getting canned and their rap sheet, an 11 year-old boy asks my friend to have sex with him, the same homeless, pregnant woman shuffles around day after day with her shopping cart filled with her belongings and in the empty park on a cold, blustery day, two men exchange drugs with a flick of the wrist.

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I live in the projects, there are no two ways about it, and every time I mention it to someone they ask me if I am frightened to be living in such a place. On some level there is definitely an underlying fear and I am aware that I must be cautious. However, there is something unreal and almost special about being able to watch a world that is so foreign to me. Amongst all of its vulgarity there is a world that is full of trust, love and a strong sense of community. I watch the little children playing in the park, their parents not around, but their neighbors are watching. I see the guys hanging out by the entrance, they aren’t just bumming around they are the watch guards of their home. I see the older people walking around in the morning, greeting the people that clean their streets, talking to them with respect and care.

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The other day I was walking down the street with a few people (who were all from New York) and we passed by a group of black people standing around and talking. As we were passing, a guy, probably in his mid-20’s looking like your average gangsta’ low-riding pants and all, asked, “Excuse me, do any of you have a tissue?” As I stopped to respond, the thought that this was a ploy to mug me crossed my mind, but I shoved it out of my head, “have a little faith,” I told myself. So, I opened my purse, pulled out my tissue and gave it to him. He promptly gangsta’ shuffled over to a little girl of about 4 and wiped her nose ever so gently. It was so sweet. The people I was with had not stopped or even acknowledged the man’s question, they had just ignored him. When we had walked away, one of them remarked, “That was really brave of you.”

Brave, shmave, I was just doing a decent thing. They probably, like I had, thought he was going to mug them. But I have learned that humans aren’t always so rough, and even when they are, often it is just a façade.

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Tonight I heard yelling and my thoughts went immediately to gang fights, but when I looked out my window I saw a bunch of guys playing a makeshift game of football in the frigid weather at 11:30 pm.

This is where they live. This is their home. They are people too, with fears, challenges, a mother and father, siblings they love this place that they call home.

But I am not familiar with their version of a home, I grew up in my own home, not in government housing, I grew up with a green backyard, not an alley with a garbage dump, I grew up knowing I will always have a warm place to sleep and food on the table, I never had to wonder where my next meal was coming from, I know that I will be respected in the world, they know that they may have to fight for respect.

What do I know of them?

Nothing.

Just my prejudices, my biases, the stigma that I have attached to them, the lies I have been told, and information gathered from movies I have watched.

Nothing.

Nothing real, nothing of their true lives,

Nothing of their fears and aspirations,

Nothing of their trials and joys,

Nothing of their families or friends, nothing.

Their lives are totally foreign to me, and for that I cannot judge.

Making Room for Others

Last semester I encountered a professor who I did not particularly respect, he was annoying, talked super fast and jumped around from topic to topic when he taught, which was difficult since it was a history class. Normally, I would have just switched classes but this was part of the core and I had to take it. The first half of the semester I just tuned him out, was bored and felt aggravated at his inability to teach, but then mid-terms came around and I had no idea how I was going to study. I ended up having to teach myself 3,000 years of history, which proved to be extremely time consuming and I ended up getting a B- on the midterm because I was not prepared. I made a quick calculation and realized that if I wanted to get an A in the class I had to change something and it had to start with me.
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I decided to give the teacher another chance and try and focus on his positive traits, so I walked into class, sat down, focused and vigorously took notes to keep up with his speed. Much to my surprise, I began to realize that this professor was actually very smart, knew what he was talking about and throughout the days a very clear picture of history began forming in my mind. Needless to say, it was an extremely humbling experience for me.

By the end of the semester, I had gained a lot of knowledge, not just of history, but of the human condition and that sometimes all you need to do is step outside of yourself and look to the positive in others, trust in them and they will deliver.