2022

buh-bye

It’s the last Shabbat of 2022. So some reflection.

This year tested my limits. It made me face myself in ways I’ve never had the opportunity to do. One thing it defiantly confirmed for me is that if you tell me I could get closer to x through doing y, I always do z. I’m not a contrarian. I just don’t set out on a path for an end result. I set out on a path because it’s the path I choose to blaze. And if that is your path then you can’t control the most important or significant outcomes of your actions. You have to ride the waves of popular reaction having confidence that you were correct and one day the rest will catch up to you. You can’t work with the rules you’ve been given if they don’t protect you. You have to make your own.

Maybe being a writer makes it easier to be an outlier. Writing comes with a unique tolerance for isolation. You have to be comfortable alone to be able to observe and to feel and to know enough to jot anything down worth saying. You’re always to a degree on the outside looking in.

This month I have felt an emptiness as the days grow shorter. It is a position of great honor to be able to represent the voiceless out here and not one I ever regret. You don’t do this kind of work to gain power or popularity (although many people do), but it often occurs to me as I have experienced this year that those who become attached to a person’s voice can lay claim or ownership. I think it’s quite clear to people now that mine cannot and will never be bought. And I remember that the most when things slow down, and the dissonance between the perception of my online volume and the reality of the silence that engulfs my own little corner of the planet is oddly stark. What I’m left with is me, and the knowledge I made no compromises. And I can’t trade that for anything.

I’m searching for optimism at the end of a life-altering year. So I want to thank everyone for supporting me in this new endeavor. Writing is not only my passion but my lifeboat. And it so happens that writing about Jewish issues brought me to all of you. We are a community but we are also individuals. Today I was reminded of a beautiful passage from a Khalil Gibran poem about why strength has to be renourished and revitalized in ourselves, often alone, in order for us to be effective support systems to each other and to the people we bond ourselves with:

“Stand together yet not too near together:

 For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.”

Be the best pillar you can be. Stand in your own light. For yourself and for the people you are fortunate to love.

I’m wishing you all a happy and healthy new year.

xo