Tag: …wow.

I mean “wow.” Just … wow.

5 Thoughts: Extended Identity

0. IT TAKES A PROTRACTED MOVE to realize how much of one’s sense of self is tied up in one’s Stuff.

1. After 26 years within the same walls, circumstances – specifics are unimportant – have forced us to find other lodgings. But the same circumstances have dictated that our upcoming relocation actually necessitated packing our Stuff some months ago. Thus, we have spent a long time in box-cramped quarters with all but a sparse assembly of representative possessions.

We have spent a long time in box-cramped quarters with all but a sparse assembly of representative possessions.

2. This decidedly isn’t a complaint: at least I still have all my Stuff. Some of my friends lost all theirs to different iterations of NorCal’s sporadic and frightening wildfires, including one friend who was iterated twice. (He likes to say that all his Stuff “overheated.”) And there are refugees around the world whose circumstances have included war, flood, famine, earthquake… I won’t belabor that point, because it’s not the one I’m addressing. What I want to say is something quite else: it’s very disorienting to live without what reminds me of who I am – and which embodies my memory and identity.

3. Chiefly: books.

4. As a student and teacher in our local Jewish community, books are essential not only to my work, but also to my sense of self. Although we all live in a digital Golden Age of Jewish study, thanks in part to Sefaria and My Jewish Learning and the Academic Torah Institute, all my sixty-three years of curiosity-reflexes are geared toward finding answers (as well as more interesting questions) by laying hands on and flipping through books.

5. It’s funny how temporary deprivation can heighten one’s experience of reality, much as the Yom Kippur fast can reveal one’s relationship with food. Before we packed my library, I used to think of books as my friends. Now I think of them as part of my soul. What of your Stuff reminds you of who you are? And: why?

The Bag

ONE OF MY FAVORITE QUOTES from The Lord of the Rings concerns Frodo Baggins’ loyal manservant and steadfast friend Sam Gamgee. It’s a narrative quote, not dialog, and it describes Sam’s knapsack as stuffed full of (quoting from memory): “… little treasures of his master’s to be trotted out in triumph when needed and called for.”

Sometimes, stories come to life.

The NorCal fire season definitely made an impression on me.

It’s my custom to post a daily Facebook question, to the evident delight of good friends who love to play along. I always answer it myself just to get the snowball rolling, and the other day I posted this:

What’s your EDC (Every Day Carry)? (Me: In addition to wallet, keys, phone and bandana handkerchief, I carry a four-pocket, five-pound, grey Cordura sling bag containing a Leatherman-knockoff multitool; blue and red ballpoint pens; blue Sharpie; mechanical pencil; yellow notepad; binoculars; two-lens jeweler’s loupe; LED flashlight; thumb drive; spare bandana; two black KN95 masks; two pair nitrile gloves; two pair earplugs; comb; mirror; six-inch/15-centimeter plastic ruler; earbuds [wired]; one of those steel, credit-card-sized “11-in-1 survival tools” [bottle opener, can opener, standard screwdriver, wingnut wrench, hex wrenches, blade, magnetic compass, file, ruler, keychain loop, and saw]; sewing kit; first-aid kit; inspirational reading; space blanket; razor-sharp Opinel No. 8 knife; miniature Swiss Army knife with toothpick and tweezers; mini carabiner clip; ibuprofen; Listerine spray; dry-mouth spray and lozenges; two plastic teaspoons; two paper straws; military-issue folding can opener; actual magnetic compass; synagogue-leadership roster; vaxx card; cough drops; folding scissors; eyeglasses; homemade trail mix; phone charger; small clothespin; rubber band; butane lighter [I don’t smoke, but instant flame can be handy]; guitar pick; Kleenex packet; nail clippers; two packets of Bustelo instant espresso; and one of my business cards with “IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO” scribbled on the back. In short, everything which I have needed and/or anticipate needing goes into this damn bag which I lug everywhere, feel absolutely naked without, and have misplaced twice – with attendant bad freakout. Wouldn’t you?)

The NorCal fire season – especially 2017’s, which burned half of Sonoma Valley – definitely made an impression on me, and I now partly live out of my go-bags for small things like sunglasses and daily grooming essentials; it’s a great stress-reducer to know I can grab everything of importance without thinking. But to be honest, I really tote all these things, each thoughtfully and meticulously collected over a period of years, because I love to be useful. (Which is not a bad way to be.)

So. What’s your EDC? And a bonus question: What makes you feel useful?

First Graf (rather, Line): The Lord of the Rings

OF THE 90% PETER JACKSON got right in his 11-hour and 22-minute adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien’s best-beloved work – the lush landscapes, the Balrog, Elves, the Nazgul, Sauron, Orcs and Uruk-hai, Gollum, Ents, hobbits (MY GHAWD! THE HOBBITS!!!), the Ring, Grima, the very different cultures and props and sets and cities and overall “look” – he got right in abundance.

But that other 10% … oy.

Read the actual books and you’ll discover that Aragorn is not a timid wimp, Gimli is not comic relief, Arwen isn’t an avenging angel, Saruman and Gandalf never duked it out with magic staves, Faramir didn’t try to bring the Ring to his father, the dialogue is more formal and less modern (except for the rustic hobbits), there’s a wonderful character named Tom Bombadil, and the book features a single climax instead of three simultaneous ones. And that well-traveled literary road begins, quite simply, like this:

When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.

One Letter (Alright, Two)

(If you’re not hot for stretchy, out-on-a-limb Jewish linguistic mysticism, best sit this one out. Otherwise, please enjoy.)

IT’S NO SECRET THAT JEWS love words. (After all, Torah begins with “God” speaking the world into being; if you need further convincing, check out almost any Jewish comedian.) Our tradition teaches that Torah contains no unintentional words nor letters – and that meaning can be extracted from it anywhere and everywhere you look. It’s all to play for, and we play hard.

Take, for example, the words “eved,” or “slave,” and “Ivri,” “Hebrew” – not the language, but a member of the tribe. Reading Fig. 1 and 2 from right to left, as one does in Hebrew, you’ll notice the third letter in each word looks very much alike: in eved, that letter is a dalet (D) and in Ivri it’s a reish (R). Another point is that the root word for Ivri is “eveir,” which means “to cross over.”

Fig. 1
Fig. 2

Now, stay with me here. It’s about to get weird.

Dalet is a 90-degree right angle, while reish is more of a sweeping curve. One way of understanding this difference may be that a slave is boxed in and constrained. A Hebrew, on the other hand, is a constraint-crosser: one who goes where the flow takes them in order to become more.

Mind you, this quality is not specific only to Jews, but to anyone who walks a way of self-transcendence. Jewish tradition teaches that anyone and everyone can practice growth – in skill sets, wisdom, spirituality, and character. But that osmotic, gut-level tradition is also one reason why there are so many Jewish doctors, scientists, philanthropists, Nobel Prize winners, and others devoted to improving the human condition.

And how exactly does one do that? See the last letter in Ivri? It’s a yod (Y), which symbolizes intuition and literally means “hand” – the appendage with which we effect change. Only good, hard, inspired and diligent work enables us to make a difference in this, the most interesting and problematic of all possible worlds.

Class dismissed.

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