i think i always choose the hard way. i have a hunch that the challenges i have experienced in my life are created by me. i don't know why i do it. maybe it's because i'm just so 'driven' that i crave things that are beyond my comprehension. this results in lots of rewards - degrees, jobs, leadership positions, you name it. it also results in a lot of pain. i can't be happy with what i have - i always need more. it's not a financial thing (which seems common under this condition) but more so an emotional, psychological factor. i can't be satisfied with a close friendship, relationship, job, school, or experience. it always has to be something more. i have an extremely difficult time looking at my life and saying 'wow, i am comfortable with where i am' because i continually need to be growing. and not just growing at a natural pace, but growing at a very unnatural, propelled pace. with this rapid pace, comes a lot of loss, and that is something i am experiencing for the worst right now.

when i need more, i run from what i have. i did this in high school, twice. i went to three high schools before i graduated. in college, i almost transferred so many times. i could not believe that i walked across the stage in arizona at the end of three and a half years. i honestly don't know if i could have made it, doing the same thing, for a typical four-year college career. it's just too much for me. i can't be too happy with something. as soon as i reach that point, i break. i run, fight, yell, quit - you name it. i cut off ties and i move on. who knows if i really move on. i'm sure there's some emotional baggage that remains deep within me, but for the most part, i do move forward and onto the next 'bigger' step.

so when it comes to happiness, maybe i'm not as happy as i appear. my smile might not be as real as you'd think. my excitement, laughter, love - you name it - might be an act for everything i'm running from inside. i don't know any of this for a fact because all of these things feel real to me. but, they easily could be illusions.

i think i might need to build on what i have in the present instead of jumping toward something new while releasing who i currently am. it might not be worth it to continually be changing the channel. even if it's a commercial, it might be worthwhile. with all of this, comes patience - a quality i innately lack. i wish i had more of it. if i did, i'm sure i could stay put and embrace my experiences and those around me instead of throwing them away as i run toward the limitless sky. well, the sky is limitless and i could keep on running. do i need to do that though?

i need to find myself right now. the solution might not be so far away from what's right before my eyes. it could be, but i have a strong, strong feeling that it's not. i think i would rather work toward perfecting the me sitting here typing into this computer window than the me i 'could be' if i run somewhere new. there's nothing wrong with the present and what i've got, including who i have, close to me. now, i need to embrace this.

little black heels

you may call me a flip flop, but i call myself someone who is in tune with my feelings, continually affected by my surroundings.

with being affected comes perspective and with perspective comes choice. i sometimes look at my kids at hebrew school and middle school and i realize how little choice they have in their lives. their parents decide things for them and they are left to bear the consequences of these decisions, which, more often than not, are not what they would have chose on their own.

my perspective on life has been really bad this past year. i've been a total downer and i know it. for those of you who met me this year and think differently, well, i wish you knew me before last august. when the middle school gym teacher came up to me one day and called me smiley, i literally jumped. i had not heard that phrase since last summer. prior to august, everyone called me smiley. this was because i constantly had a smile glued to my face. i won 'spirit' awards and i was incredibly upbeat, even when i was sad. i remember going home for a weekend this year and picking up my high school softball spirit award and thinking 'who won this award? it couldn't be me.'

what happened this year is now the past and has merely left a trail that i can either dwell on or learn from. i'm going to choose the latter. i don't even know if i'm ready to learn from it and dissect all of the things that went wrong, mainly with going to YU and having the worst internship imaginable (or unimaginable). i know i can learn from this but, like i said, i'm not ready. i need time to digress from this situation, to just be me.

i decided last week to cheer up. it wasn't that hard either! i think my friends were not used to me being so eager to hang out - but two close friends gave me the incredible advice that it's okay to be sad. more importantly, it's okay to tell your friends you're sad and that you need them. i did just that and i've had people calling nonstop. i have more friends than i thought i did! i have a new gym partner (and i've been working out, almost every day!), have had too many shabbat invites to accept, and have attended so many classes, lectures, and Jewish activities that i am drowning (in a good way!) in new information. i'm eating great, cooking a lot, and, like i said, talking with people who i haven't talked to in a long time, and it feels great. i'm also working aggressively on my research and... hopefully we will be published in a few weeks! i think that might just mark the best day of my life thus far.

i decided to wear my only pair of black heels the other night too. i had not worn them since freshmen year of college. why would i? i'm not the type to wear heels on shabbat or to fancy occasions. i don't know why exactly... but i never get that craving to just go out in heels. anyways, a friend inspired me to throw them on for yom ha'atzmaut (israel independence day). we were in a rush and i didn't have time to analyze the plans. before i knew it, i was in the car with friends, wearing my little black heels, ready to drive to the party in mid-town.

i realized that these shoes gave me confidence i don't typically illuminate. i was standing next to someone who i had never felt like an 'equal' to before - but these heels helped my confidence resurface. that same confidence that took the back burner last august.

i felt comfortable at this penthouse bar in mid-town, on the roof, surrounded by friends and new acquaintances and i realized that life is exciting. my life is exciting. somehow, i had forgotten this. my life used to be incredibly exciting! i use the phrase 'i miss college' a lot - when really, it's not just college i'm missing. i miss the fun and laughter... and at that moment at the bar, i was surrounded by young jewish professionals, wrapped in my friend adam's sweater. i stood on this roof and embraced the bright lights glimmering from the tall buildings around us. in the midst of the chilly night, i was warm again. i was laughing, smiling, resurfacing memories, and making new friends.

i made the choice to put on my heels. i also made the choice to go out and celebrate yom ha'atzmaut with friends. i've made many choices over the past week that have left me sitting here, all alone at 9:45 pm, with a smile glued to my face. this is me - and i hope this never changes.

the last train home

59th Street came and went. I knew the rest of the ride was going to flash before my eyes and be over before I knew it. That's what express trains are for - to make things rush past your eyes so fast that by the time your pupils catch up, you've jumped eighty streets and you're at your front door.

The A train is the train that would best describe me. I'm an express kind of girl. I don't like to live in the moment; I live in the future and ignore everything in the present until it becomes the past. I want things as fast as I can get them and then, once I have them, I want to run with them to the next thing. I can't sit still. I wish I understood where this came from.

But tonight, I wanted to slow down. I felt the speed and it took over my stomach. My eyes came into focus and I noticed every hole in the wall, section of graffiti, or burnt out bulb in the crevices of the A train tunnel. Tears engulfed my face and I sat there staring aimlessly through the wet glaze over my eyes. I felt the train move throughout my body just as I felt my body become glued to the seat. I wanted the train to stop. I didn't want to get off.

Endings happen. Just as my journey on the subway approached my destination, everything I knew about New York City shut its doors. It lingered a bit down Fort Washington Avenue and then it ended. I turned back to see if it was still there and it wasn't. That was it. I walked into my lobby, scared of what was behind me. My security blanket had drifted southward as I entered my building alone.

Hunter College informed me I am an official resident of New York City. I can only guess what that means and I don't know if I fit the role. I know New York City through people and experiences, but when those are lifted out of the picture, I'm left with hollow memories. Empty thoughts, empty feelings, empty ideas, empty laughter, empty happiness.

I wonder where life will take me next. I wonder what stop is after 181st Street - I've never taken the train that far or seen the road less traveled. I am heartbroken and lost, yearning for a comfort that my expansive down comforter cannot provide.

My longing for comfort angers me. It angers me how people have relationships with their families and friends that span their lifetimes. I wish I had this. I wish I could be hurt, beat up, brought down, and all that goes with the lows of life, and still be brought back up by people in my life who would do anything for me. I want people who will defend me even when they know I'm wrong. 2,000 friends, a bunch of college and seminary Rabbis, and people back in Boston who are attached to me through empty familial titles don't defend me or support me. They don't back up my decisions, big or small.

I'm not sure where to go from here but I hope time will heal these wounds and guide me back on track. And I hope that for my own well being, I start to feel the train, and all the motions of the world, ride the rails at their true pace.

join the conversation

yesterday, i attended the jofa conference at columbia university. it was a day celebrating feminism and prompting conversation on controversial issues within the modern orthodox world. i never understood feminism nor do i consider myself a feminist. i still don't quite understand the phenomenon, even after spending nine hours at the conference listening to speakers discuss 'feminist' topics at length.

i was drawn to the conference from the moment i saw an advertisement online. the topics sounded so intriguing - ranging from mehitzahs (physical dividers between men and women that exist in most orthodox synagogues) to the creation of new rituals. there must have been over fifty classes to choose from! i was intrigued, signed up, and convinced my friend nina to sign up too.

nina and i arrived in an overtired, overly caffeinated daze. we hurried in, found seats in the back of the big auditorium, and began looking through our course list to see who we wanted to hear speak for the rest of the day. just as quickly as we began searching through our conference pamphlets, we found ourselves gazing forward, about a hundred and fifty feet away, toward the front of the room. there was a woman there, speaking about her new identity as a rabba. she was recently ordained as the first female, orthodox rabbi by a yeshiva close by. her words were mesmerizing and i quickly closed my book to listen fully. she spoke of many issues which permeated throughout the entire conference, including equality, knowledge, understanding, and dialogue. this woman standing before the few hundred women and men in the columbia auditorium, had defied the odds. not only that, she had defied the boundaries set forth for her within her religion. she questioned it, persisted, never gave up, and ultimately, prevailed in her quest to become a jewish leader - one with a title equivalent to her male counterpart.

the first class i took was on prayer through art. nina actually ditched me to go downstairs for a more heavy topic (women of the wall - i really wish i had heard that, too!) and i stayed upstairs in a small conference room with five others ranging in age from their early twenties to mid seventies. the speaker began by introducing the idea of expression through artistic dimensions and shared some of her own artwork. it was stunning. she was inspired by prayer - both communal and personal - and expressed it in a very clear way in her artwork. she then gave us worksheets to pick a prayer, personal or communal, and create our own piece of artwork. i thought for a moment and immediately knew what to create.


this quilted piece represents how i was feeling about prayer. i am the bottom right corner, sitting amidst the world. the sky is above the world, with god hovering within it. i am saying the shema blessing, which begins with the hebrew word "shema" or "listen" in english. the letters are scattered and uneven. they are going upward, toward the eternal, but are not quite making it. there is a barrier of purple between me and the prayer and between the prayer and god. it's like the words are there but the connection is not quite formed.

i went to many other classes at the conference, all of which inspired me more and more to learn about my personal role in judaism. my religion is not about my husband or my family or my rabbi. it's about myself and how i personally fit into the mold - and, how i don't fit into the mold. an example of this can be pulled from a class i went to on ritual and traditions. the speakers were incredible! they talked about how women are often excluded from ritual. this doesn't simply mean they are stuck behind the opaque mehitzah, but that the rituals are just not for them. an example of this involves a three-year-old boy. at this age, it is believed that boys should begin the process of adulthood and there is a ceremony, often involving a first hair cut, that allows this child's life and entrance toward a true childhood, to be celebrated. there is no equivalent ceremony for a girl so one of the presenters created one and called it a simcha (celebration in english) bat (daughter in english). this celebration was not simply a birthday party either. it was bringing the daughter up to the torah scroll, in front of her whole congregation, and presenting her to it and it to her. this moment was a milestone in her life and after that day, her role in the her family and community was transformed.

as i traveled from room to room throughout the day, i thought about all of the jewish people, both men and women, in my life who had given up on their faith. this is such a common theme in life. if something's too tough or if you don't agree with it, cross it off your list. that's it. but why don't we ever embrace who we are? some things are just part of us. if you hate your hair color, why not work with it instead of changing it? why do people reject religion simply on the premise of hearing one thing they don't agree with?

i also thought about the jewish men and women who i don't know personally but are very well-known in the world. the example that stuck in my mind throughout the conference was supreme court justice ruth bader ginsburg. recently, i reread the book 'stars of david', in which ruth bader ginsburg is interviewed. she was chosen to be a part of this compilation because she is 1. famous and 2. jewish. but, she has ditched the religion. she states it's not a part of her life anymore. despite being raised in a fairly observant home, she believes that the gender roles and negative attitude toward women are what drove her away from it. she gave up on something that was intrinsically part of who she was -- no, IS. who she IS. though i strongly feel that ruth bader ginsburg is one of the most influential members of american society, i often wonder who she would be if she had embraced her jewish identity from a young age and allowed it to mold the person who she has become.

in my opinion, the theme of this conference was dialogue. "join the conversation" was the term coined for the logo. this isn't a NEW concept. let me put it this way. when my students, often my 8th/9th graders at the reconstructionist synagogue i teach at, comment about hating god, disliking judaism, or thinking kosher is just plain stupid - i tell them that i love their opinions and i want to know more. once when this happened, i opened up a chumash (torah prayer book). i showed them the torah's text (on the top right) and then i said - "class, what else do you see on this page?". and of course their answers are just mumbles of "lots of hebrew". well, i then explained that this "hebrew" that they see is a dialogue that jews have created throughout our history. and then i explain that this dialogue is treated with utmost importance - we, as modern jews, listen to it in almost the same light as we listen to god's words of the actual torah! now this blows them away and i'm sure they probably don't buy it. but - it's the truth. judaism stresses dialogue, conversation, questioning - you name it. you can't have blind faith in something you don't agree with. at least i don't believe that.

listen, i'm not saying all of this orthodox business comes easy to me. i miss lobster and clam chowder more than you can imagine. but what i am saying is that i am on a lifelong quest of questioning who i am and seeking answers. i might not be entirely comfortable or accepting of everything i was born into, religion included, but i am eager to expand my knowledge of my identity instead of that of someone else.

grandma

I remember flying for the first time on my own to Florida as a little kid. My mom and dad were so worried about me but I had no fears at all. It was exciting. I don't remember the details but I know that I was so excited when I felt that first brush of air on my face as I stepped from the airplane onto the jetway. It was warm and the sun was shining through the cracks around the entrance to the airport.

My Uncle George was waiting there and after we picked up my luggage, he drove me to my grandmother's apartment in West Palm Beach. She lived in a building that was filled with other grandmas and grandpas. I remember her dining room table, probably since we still have it now. And, I remember her Swedish meatballs. They were really sweet and she served them in a giant pot. I remember her swimming pool and that her laundry machine was in her kitchen. There were mirrors in her dining room and once we sat in her bed together reading the newspaper.

And that's really all I remember.

A week ago my great Aunt died and my dad sent me the obituary. He also sent me my grandmother's from 2004. Reading her short biography brought tears to my eyes. I barely knew her for reasons that I will never truly accept or understand. I visited FL a couple times when I was very little but that was basically it. She lived far away, it was too expensive to visit, it was more important for other people to go instead of me - the list was endless. I never really accepted these excuses back then either. After screaming, crying, and protesting to go, the fights would eventually calm down and I would, once again, not be on a plane visiting West Palm Beach.

I wish I knew my grandmother. I wear her pearl necklace a lot and I feel beautiful in it. I think I can learn a lot from my relationship, or lack thereof, with my grandmother. I can learn a lot about family, both the one I come from and the one I will soon begin (b"H). I read about her accomplishments and I see clearly the person who I want to strive toward becoming. I want to be a leader, one of both my family and my community, and be the helper when help is needed.

Below is the obituary from 2004.


SOPHIE B. LIPSITT, 92

WEST PALM BEACH, Fla. -- Sophie B. Lipsitt, 92, of Arden Courts Assisted Living Residence, formerly of New Bedford, Mass., died Saturday, Oct. 23, 2004, at home. She was the widow of David J. Lipsitt.
Born in New York City, she was the daughter of the late Sidney and Rebecca (Eisenstadt) Bogorad. She lived in New Bedford since early childhood; she resided in Florida since 1973.
Mrs. Lipsitt was a longtime member of Tifereth Israel Congregation, where she was president of its Sisterhood and Hadassah. She was a member of B'nai B'rith.
For many years, she helped the blind by typing manuscripts into Braille in English and Hebrew. With a lifelong commitment to volunteerism, she was a nurse's aide during World War II, a docent at the Flagler Museum and a helper at Morse Geriatric Center in Florida. She gave freely of her time and talent to a variety of charities.
Survivors include two sons, Marc Lipsitt of West Conshohocken, Pa., and Jeff Lipsitt of Boston; three grandchildren; a stepgrandchild; and a sister, Evelyn Sacknoff of Fall River, Mass.
She was the sister of the late Samuel N. Bogorad.
Her funeral will be at 1 p.m. tomorrow at Tifereth Israel Congregation, 145 Brownell Ave., New Bedford. Burial will follow at Plainville Cemetery, New Bedford.