Rosality - Reflections on Life from a Different Perspective
2010 February, January, 2009 December(2), December, November, October, September, August, July, June, May, April, March, February, January, 2008. 2007. 2006
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Rosally
There’s something intrinsically wrong with the above poem. Not that I have anything against Robert Browning, or the poem, it’s very nice but the concept that G-d is divorced from our lives and sits up in heaven on his throne smiling benignly down at us is more reminiscent of Dumbledore than The Creator of the universe.
Allow me to share with you 36 consecutive hours in the past month to illustrate how G-d is right beside us every second orchestrating events that seem to paint with a neon-colored paintbrush “I AM HERE” with almost the same clarity that He spoke the Ten Commandments (well actually, the first two) on Sinai. And if we just pay attention, we can see it.
8:00 a.m. Tuesday morning. On my way to the bus stop, I pass bushes full of jasmine. The pervasiveness of jasmine blossoms is one of the things I love about living in Israel. I make the blessing on smelling flowers and sniff. The woman who had been walking behind me stops at the same time and makes the blessing over the roses, the next bush over. We smile at each other. “You have to stop sometimes and look at creation,” she calls after me. Freeze frame, click.
11:00 a.m. There’s a nationwide army drill. The siren goes off and we all hurry (okay go leisurely, it was a drill) to the nearest bomb shelter. Part of the bomb shelter in the building where I work doubles as a synagogue where workers pray the afternoon service (Mincha). One of the more humorous guys made a joke that they should have a siren every afternoon. He then turned to one of the secretaries and good-naturedly pointed out her that she was not appropriately dressed for a place of worship. This secretary is young and beautiful and dresses to show off her physical attributes. She replied by quoting chapter 121 of Tehillim (Psalms) and informing him that she says Tehillim every day which was followed by an argument of what chapters of Tehillim one should say, etc. The drill was over. Freeze frame. Click!
4:00 p.m. The above-mentioned secretary, we’ll call her Sheila, ‘cause that’s her name, comes into my office and asks me if I know where to get the book of Shir Hashirim (Song of Songs) she wants to learn it. I told her it’s in every siddur (prayerbook) and every Tanach (bible) but she didn’t have one. In the meantime my boss found it on the Internet and printed it out. She told us she wants it with explanations. She was also very interested in the lectures of Rabbi Zamir Cohen a very erudite young Rabbi who enjoys a lot of popularity in Israel.
My boss (who’s not religious by the way but is warm towards it) spends the next 15 minutes looking up in succession Tehillim and Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers).
I take some money from Sheila and tell her I’ll try and pick up the book for her on the way home. She hands me a hundred shekels hoping it will be enough. Snap.
5:00 p.m. From the bus I can see that the store I wanted to buy the book from was closed. I decide to get off the bus one stop before my stop and see if the Breszlev run store is open. It is. A beautiful ethereal creature steps up to the counter to serve me. Everything about her is flowing - her hair, her blouse, her dress, her smile. I feel strangely fragile in this mystical environment. “Do you have Shir Hashirim?” I ask her. She steps over to the bookcase and takes out two. One is with interpretations by Rabbi Zamir Cohen. She informs me it’s the only copy she has and has been there a while. I get all emotional. “God is everywhere,” she says with a voice that is at once otherworldly and grounded when I explain the “coincidence”. The book costs 30 shekels. She throws in a few pamphlets and sensing my fragile state makes me a gift of a pamphlet on Being Happy. I ask her to gift-wrap the book. Snap, snap, snap.
7:00 a.m. I’m on my way to Tel-Aviv to order new discs. I’ve only sold 12, but somehow am running out. I’m sitting on the bus saying Tehillim. A young man sits down besides me and soon takes out what looks like a Muslim version of Tehillim. After a few minutes my curiosity gets the better of me. “Is that like an Arabic Tehillim?” I ask him. “Yes,” he answers. “Well, What’s in it?” I ask. “Prayers you say in the morning.” Ah. After a while I see him scribble something in English on an envelope. I try to unobtrusively see what he wrote. “Please God, something our homes.” At least I hope it said homes. A young Arab man and a middle-aged Jewish woman sitting side by side on a bus in Israel, praying. Telephoto focus. Click!
9:30 a.m. I excitedly hand Sheila the package and her change. She can’t believe it’s Rbbi Zamir Cohen. She loves it, throws me a kiss and sends me an effusive email. She later tells me her friend wants the same book. Snap.
6:00 p.m. I get home physically and emotionally drained. Me and my son have a conversation about my precarious financial state. He’s very mature and supportive. I’m on the precipice of doom. Emotionally exhausted I go to the computer. There’s a knock at the door. It’s one of the ladies from the neighborhood who goes around asking for charity. She looks at me with sad eyes and a look that begs compassion. I give her something. She asks for more. I say I don’t have. She looks up at me pleading. I give her more. As I close the door, I gain a little perspective on how bad things really can get. I am still, thank G-d, able to give. Message received. Click.
All is right with the world, even if we don’t always acknowledge it, because G-d is, like my ethereal friend said, everywhere, always, guiding, blessing, watching and filling His album with Kodak moments.
So smile!
Thought for the month: G-d moves the earth, I’m only along for the ride.
Have a good month!
Rosally
The story tells of a little boy who gets separated from his parents at the zoo. He’s thrust from the paws of one animal to the claws of another until he’s finally returned to his parents’ loving arms. And the consequences of each transfer to a new denizen of the zoo turns out to be different than expected.
There’s a lot of wonderful lessons to be learned from this book and not only for little children. We go through a variety of experiences, some good, even euphoric, some bad and even ultimately tragic. However, we don’t always know how to differentiate between something we thought was good which was in essence bad, or something bad which turned out to be for the best. Even our own actions, be they positive or negative can have ramifications we could never have imagined. In any scenario there’s both good and bad, and we can’t always differentiate between them.
The news has been anything but good lately: Recessions and financial crises, war, personal tragedies, it’s devastating. On the other hand, there have at least been a few miracles alongside them in the news, the beginning of a new era, and hope. Also, in whatever area, we’re struggling, we can also find the rays of sunlight piercing through the clouds: loyalty of friends, the kindness of strangers and just pure sunlight heralding the spring.
We all eventually end up in the arms of our Loving Parent who put us here and Who watches over us at all times. Nothing lasts forever, not joy, not suffering. As we pass through the stations of our lives, which sometimes seem wild and wooly, our only hope is to focus on the good around us and to know that nothing is completely good, nothing is completely bad, and we can’t always be sure which is which. Salvation can come at any moment and there is meaning to everything we go through in life. And that’s just good.
Rosally
The story begins with Joseph dreaming a dream and telling his brothers about it. But the road from dream to reality is very long, very hard and very circuitous. But the most significant aspect of the story is the Divine Providence behind it. God is guiding events so that they will unfold the way they do, the way they're supposed to.
I Didn’t Know That
By
Rosally Saltsman
We
all like to be right. Right? I mean no one wants to think they’re
doing anything wrong. So your natural instinct when someone tells you
something you didn’t know you should be doing or not be doing
causes you to say, “No, that’s not right.”
Case in point. A friend who was staying with me and had been away for Shabbat causally mentioned something about having to pay the person whose house you’re staying at for the Shabbat candles you use there. I had never, ever heard this before (I mean Chanukah candles sure but Shabbat candles, uh uh). I have been lighting candles in other people’s homes for about 33 years so I didn’t want to hear that I had been doing something not right for 33 years. For years I have been lighting with oil. Olive oil. This is not a mitzvah I take lightly. This was some stricture, only something my friend did. I looked it up. Couldn’t find it. Looked on the web, asked a Rebbetzin. Yeah there was something in it.
Now, it would be much easier to go, “Wow, I didn’t know that, thank you so much for telling me, now I’ll do it right.” My, our natural reaction, is no, I don’t know that, that’s not how I do it so it can’t be right. Now, I understand, as do all of you that this comes not from a place of arrogance but a place of goodness. We all want to be doing what we perceive is the right thing and when we’re not we are lacking in the perfection we so strive to reach. I mean when do we finally get it right?
Dov Baron, a life coach in British Columbia says that three of the most expensive words in the world are “I know that”. Because when you know everything, you end up not knowing many things that could save you pain, aggravation, money, love and … proper mitzvah observance.
I once had a “New thinking” teacher tell me I like to be right. Duh! Doesn’t everybody like to be right? I can just hear George Carlin going, “Yeah I was hoping to be wrong at least a few times today, gee what went wrong? I know I was wrong at least once. Well guess I was wrong about that, phew! That was close.”
It says that a fool doesn’t learn but if you think you’re wise you don’t learn either. We get all defensive about it. All tense like something terrible will happen if we do something differently or if we were actually gasp wrong. We are wrong, at least sometimes that’s what we’re here to fix in the first place.
Let’s all take a deep breath and start again.
Because, ultimately, that’s what we do every day. All of us.
Rosality is going on an indefinite hiatus. Thank you all for reading.
Case in point. A friend who was staying with me and had been away for Shabbat causally mentioned something about having to pay the person whose house you’re staying at for the Shabbat candles you use there. I had never, ever heard this before (I mean Chanukah candles sure but Shabbat candles, uh uh). I have been lighting candles in other people’s homes for about 33 years so I didn’t want to hear that I had been doing something not right for 33 years. For years I have been lighting with oil. Olive oil. This is not a mitzvah I take lightly. This was some stricture, only something my friend did. I looked it up. Couldn’t find it. Looked on the web, asked a Rebbetzin. Yeah there was something in it.
Now, it would be much easier to go, “Wow, I didn’t know that, thank you so much for telling me, now I’ll do it right.” My, our natural reaction, is no, I don’t know that, that’s not how I do it so it can’t be right. Now, I understand, as do all of you that this comes not from a place of arrogance but a place of goodness. We all want to be doing what we perceive is the right thing and when we’re not we are lacking in the perfection we so strive to reach. I mean when do we finally get it right?
Dov Baron, a life coach in British Columbia says that three of the most expensive words in the world are “I know that”. Because when you know everything, you end up not knowing many things that could save you pain, aggravation, money, love and … proper mitzvah observance.
I once had a “New thinking” teacher tell me I like to be right. Duh! Doesn’t everybody like to be right? I can just hear George Carlin going, “Yeah I was hoping to be wrong at least a few times today, gee what went wrong? I know I was wrong at least once. Well guess I was wrong about that, phew! That was close.”
It says that a fool doesn’t learn but if you think you’re wise you don’t learn either. We get all defensive about it. All tense like something terrible will happen if we do something differently or if we were actually gasp wrong. We are wrong, at least sometimes that’s what we’re here to fix in the first place.
Let’s all take a deep breath and start again.
Because, ultimately, that’s what we do every day. All of us.
Rosality is going on an indefinite hiatus. Thank you all for reading.
Rosally
Reflections of You and Me
By
Rosally Saltsman
I
had to catch a 6:13 a.m. train to Modi’in from Petach Tikvah.
Otherwise I would miss the Bar Mitzvah. Some places have transportation
between them every five minutes. With others the frequency ranges from
hours to days. So I showed up at the train station at a quarter to six.
It was locked. I asked the guard when they would be opening. He said,
“Soon.”
I said, “But I have a train.” True it would take five minutes from the time I entered the station to get to the train but ever since I was born two months premature, I like to be early, in plenty of time, you never know.
“Well, what time will you be opening?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
You know how everyone has their buttons, their pet peeves, their red capes, arrogant, uncooperative people who don’t comply with a simple request are one of mine. I threatened to complain. He didn’t care. Eventually other people arrived and he opened the door only when I went inside he told me I couldn’t come in yet. I refused to move. He threatened to physically evict me. Heated words ensued and I left the station only to be allowed back a minute later. I threatened again, he threatened me with a civil suit if I complained. The cashier at the ticket booth hadn’t arrived yet. It was 6:05. The young girl guard working with him seemed more reasonable. She said if the cashier didn’t come in time I could go through and pay at the end.
“But why wouldn’t he tell me when the station opened?” I asked of her reasonably.
“It depends,” she answered sweetly.
“On what?”
“We have regulations.”
“But what are the regulations?”
She shrugged.
“I could miss my train”
“Everything’s from Above.”
The ticket booth lady had meanwhile arrived and since the train was electric, I was smoking in its stead. But a few minutes later, I decided not to complain. It’s my job in this world to fix myself not other people, and I hadn’t reacted in a way that made me particularly proud. Also, his attitude, while it provoked and angered me, didn’t actually cause any harm. I made the train and the bar mitzvah, both very nice and the guard didn’t actually lay a hand on me. Also since I’m struggling with livelihood myself, I didn’t think it was auspicious to threaten someone else’s. I decided to let it go.
My trip required me to change trains in Tel-Aviv. I was going to get off at the last possible stop, but something made me get off at the central terminal. I had about 20 minutes before my connecting train and sat down on a bench to say Tehillim (Psalms).
A bareheaded man with earrings in his ears, looking a bit scruffy and smelling of cigarette smoke passed by.
“Tehillim is a good thing,” he said. I acknowledged his remark and then called after him, “So say some.”
He walked back to me.
“I have a Tehillim in my bag but I don’t say them.” He took out a book to show me.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because I don’t know which to say.”
I quickly explained to him how the book was divided into days of the week and days of the month and he decided to say Tehillim for the day, which was Thursday.
“I need to cover my head right?” And he rummaged through his bag once more and pulled out an equally scruffy kippa and put it awkwardly on his head.
He sat down next to me and we proceeded to say Tehillim together in companionable whispers. I felt very divinely blessed. This was a special moment.
When we finished, I showed him the prayer he could say after each time he recited Tehillim. He said he’d say it on the train. He then expressed an interest in learning more. He told me he goes to a kollel every morning where he lays Tefillin. The kippa was obviously scruffy from use. I made a suggestion or two.
We parted with blessings for each other as the train pulled up.
He was obviously a divine emissary, after all something had made me get off at this station, and more than I was teaching him, he was teaching me.
You see the two incidents, the one with the guard and the one with the man, took place a half an hour apart. And look how tremendous a difference there was in the interactions.
The Ba’al Shem Tov said that we are all reflections of one another. We show others what they have inside them and they too reflect our flaws and virtues back to us.
We have a possibility at every moment, by our actions and reactions, to inspire others or to bring out their worst. The choice to be, and to see, are ours.
We are all like trains that pass each other on our journeys and stop briefly to make a delivery at each other’s stations.
The female guard was tight, “Everything is from Above!”
Wishing you the loveliest of reflections
Rosally
I said, “But I have a train.” True it would take five minutes from the time I entered the station to get to the train but ever since I was born two months premature, I like to be early, in plenty of time, you never know.
“Well, what time will you be opening?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
You know how everyone has their buttons, their pet peeves, their red capes, arrogant, uncooperative people who don’t comply with a simple request are one of mine. I threatened to complain. He didn’t care. Eventually other people arrived and he opened the door only when I went inside he told me I couldn’t come in yet. I refused to move. He threatened to physically evict me. Heated words ensued and I left the station only to be allowed back a minute later. I threatened again, he threatened me with a civil suit if I complained. The cashier at the ticket booth hadn’t arrived yet. It was 6:05. The young girl guard working with him seemed more reasonable. She said if the cashier didn’t come in time I could go through and pay at the end.
“But why wouldn’t he tell me when the station opened?” I asked of her reasonably.
“It depends,” she answered sweetly.
“On what?”
“We have regulations.”
“But what are the regulations?”
She shrugged.
“I could miss my train”
“Everything’s from Above.”
The ticket booth lady had meanwhile arrived and since the train was electric, I was smoking in its stead. But a few minutes later, I decided not to complain. It’s my job in this world to fix myself not other people, and I hadn’t reacted in a way that made me particularly proud. Also, his attitude, while it provoked and angered me, didn’t actually cause any harm. I made the train and the bar mitzvah, both very nice and the guard didn’t actually lay a hand on me. Also since I’m struggling with livelihood myself, I didn’t think it was auspicious to threaten someone else’s. I decided to let it go.
My trip required me to change trains in Tel-Aviv. I was going to get off at the last possible stop, but something made me get off at the central terminal. I had about 20 minutes before my connecting train and sat down on a bench to say Tehillim (Psalms).
A bareheaded man with earrings in his ears, looking a bit scruffy and smelling of cigarette smoke passed by.
“Tehillim is a good thing,” he said. I acknowledged his remark and then called after him, “So say some.”
He walked back to me.
“I have a Tehillim in my bag but I don’t say them.” He took out a book to show me.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because I don’t know which to say.”
I quickly explained to him how the book was divided into days of the week and days of the month and he decided to say Tehillim for the day, which was Thursday.
“I need to cover my head right?” And he rummaged through his bag once more and pulled out an equally scruffy kippa and put it awkwardly on his head.
He sat down next to me and we proceeded to say Tehillim together in companionable whispers. I felt very divinely blessed. This was a special moment.
When we finished, I showed him the prayer he could say after each time he recited Tehillim. He said he’d say it on the train. He then expressed an interest in learning more. He told me he goes to a kollel every morning where he lays Tefillin. The kippa was obviously scruffy from use. I made a suggestion or two.
We parted with blessings for each other as the train pulled up.
He was obviously a divine emissary, after all something had made me get off at this station, and more than I was teaching him, he was teaching me.
You see the two incidents, the one with the guard and the one with the man, took place a half an hour apart. And look how tremendous a difference there was in the interactions.
The Ba’al Shem Tov said that we are all reflections of one another. We show others what they have inside them and they too reflect our flaws and virtues back to us.
We have a possibility at every moment, by our actions and reactions, to inspire others or to bring out their worst. The choice to be, and to see, are ours.
We are all like trains that pass each other on our journeys and stop briefly to make a delivery at each other’s stations.
The female guard was tight, “Everything is from Above!”
Wishing you the loveliest of reflections
Rosally
A version of this article appears in The Jewish Press
A Little Light
By
Rosally Saltsman
I
was speaking to my oldest and dearest friend, my “adopted
sister”. She was talking about how once when I was visiting her
in Tzfat, I had made a joke when she had tried to slip in some garlic
to an omelet she was making for us after I had said I didn’t want
any. She liked how I had made light of it. This friend knows me
practically my entire life and this incident took pace when we were 23.
Of the millions of adventures we shared together on the road of our
destinies, this one stands out.
My late ex-husband once told me that the highlight of our marriage was when I made him come with me to visit Houdini’s grave and pray. It’s not that we didn’t do more romantic or exciting things. I’d probably say that it’s because it’s something he never did with any other woman. I had a Houdini thing. I like the whole idea of making magic.
I have a good friend who always remembers the things I say to her. I don’t remember the things I say to her, but she’ll say, “Remember when I asked you… and you said… ?” No! but it’s helped her she tells me. Her favorite article I wrote was one that never got published. She frequently mentions it.
Over the years, I’ve taken my son to Europe and North America and tried to literally and figuratively give him the world. What he remembers with great fondness, however, is how I used to do foreign country day once a month. It was a fun activity where we chose a country and I’d teach him a few words in the native language, we’d eat the food of the same country, maybe dress up, I’d give him a history quiz and we’d make believe we were doing something touristy in that country.
The point is that the things that make us memorable, that make an impression on people in this world, that leave their imprint are the little things. It’s not the major achievements, the simchas we organize, the awards we get, the showy stuff we do, the major trips we take, even the generous acts of kindness (these are important too) but what differentiates us from other people in the hearts and minds of our family, friends, neighbors and colleagues are the little gestures, the encouraging words, the cute shtick, the almost indiscernible moments that light up people’s lives. Like a small jug of oil meant only to last a few hours, it brings light that lasts and is remembered for generations.
I know too that my greatest appreciation of my friends came at moments they don’t even remember but that made a big difference to my life.
Our friends and families don’t necessarily remember or care about our greatest achievements in life. It’s the little things, the little interactions we have with them. Not the downpour, the rain shower. Not the neon, the glow of a small flame.
Chanukah Sameach! Chodesh Tov!
Rosally
My late ex-husband once told me that the highlight of our marriage was when I made him come with me to visit Houdini’s grave and pray. It’s not that we didn’t do more romantic or exciting things. I’d probably say that it’s because it’s something he never did with any other woman. I had a Houdini thing. I like the whole idea of making magic.
I have a good friend who always remembers the things I say to her. I don’t remember the things I say to her, but she’ll say, “Remember when I asked you… and you said… ?” No! but it’s helped her she tells me. Her favorite article I wrote was one that never got published. She frequently mentions it.
Over the years, I’ve taken my son to Europe and North America and tried to literally and figuratively give him the world. What he remembers with great fondness, however, is how I used to do foreign country day once a month. It was a fun activity where we chose a country and I’d teach him a few words in the native language, we’d eat the food of the same country, maybe dress up, I’d give him a history quiz and we’d make believe we were doing something touristy in that country.
The point is that the things that make us memorable, that make an impression on people in this world, that leave their imprint are the little things. It’s not the major achievements, the simchas we organize, the awards we get, the showy stuff we do, the major trips we take, even the generous acts of kindness (these are important too) but what differentiates us from other people in the hearts and minds of our family, friends, neighbors and colleagues are the little gestures, the encouraging words, the cute shtick, the almost indiscernible moments that light up people’s lives. Like a small jug of oil meant only to last a few hours, it brings light that lasts and is remembered for generations.
I know too that my greatest appreciation of my friends came at moments they don’t even remember but that made a big difference to my life.
Our friends and families don’t necessarily remember or care about our greatest achievements in life. It’s the little things, the little interactions we have with them. Not the downpour, the rain shower. Not the neon, the glow of a small flame.
Chanukah Sameach! Chodesh Tov!
Rosally
Journeys
By
Rosally Saltsman
On
a bus in Israel (I’m sure this is true in other places but it
seems to be more so in Israel) you easily hear a dozen languages. They
all sort of weave into a psalm sung to the Conductor. Or the bus
driver. They blend into a buzz in the background but the individual
conversations seep through.
I was traveling on a bus back from Tzfat. Behind me an Israeli was giving an Ethiopian new immigrant some tips. It didn’t sound like he needed them though. He had been in Israel a year and was already speaking Hebrew pretty fluently and was traveling to Petach Tikvah where he had purchased an apartment even though he didn’t have any profession. He seemed to be doing okay. He told his new travel companion about walking to the Sudan from Ethiopia during the night. It had taken four days.
“Where there any lions?”
“No, just robbers.”
“Ah!”
I usually go up to Metullah when I go up North but my friend from Metullah is spending the year teaching in Eilat, on the other side of the country, opposite topography, furthest North and furthest South.
I met a good friend recently with whom I had reconnected a few months ago after twenty years. We went for a drink at the place we first met 27 years ago. It looked different. So do we. Our conversation’s the same though, same rhythm, same dynamic, same upbeat. He divides his time between family and work in New Zealand, Hungary and England. And Israel.
Josh, my son, my wonderful son till-120! is learning in Beit-El. It’s a 40 minute drive with a car but two hours by bus. It seems further the longer he’s away. But he comes home and it’s a nice place. Leaving home is a rite of passage.
A good friend just moved apartments. Her cat, apparently disoriented went missing for 10 days. She was very distraught and almost despaired of seeing him again. But then she got a call from someone who had seen her notices and spotted the cat not far away. She ran to get him. They were happily reunited to the joy of all following the drama. Well, perhaps less so for her husband.
An old Yemenite man on the bus from Tzfat announced loudly that he was going to say Tefillat Haderech the prayer for a safe journey. And he did. While soldiers slept and teenagers talked on their cell phones and children settled in and the dark shadows of slumbering trees sped by. And some said Amen.
Each one of us is on their own journey but we all meet at the crossroads, or on the bus, exchange stories, take and give direction and accompany each other part of the way. Whatever road we take, we’re all on the same spiritual journey, going in the same direction. All we need is a ticket and a prayer to send us on our way.
Have a Good Month! And a Happy Chanukah!
Please pass on the following two announcements:
New! The Music of Forgiveness! A special musical evening dedicated to the journey of Forgiveness featuring Linda Tomer and Rosally Saltsman. For women only. Now accepting bookings for January and February. Please contact Rosally: rosally_s@yahoo.com
To see an excerpt and to order go here:
http://www.shemayisrael.com/publicat/rosallysaltsman/moneybook.html
Rosally
Whether you count out loud, in your head or just feel it, timing is everything. Without it, music doesn’t flow and neither does life.
Life is time-sensitive. If you think about it, everything is a matter of timing and synchronization; from sunrise to sunset, from baking a cake to catching a bus, from conception to birth, everything is dependent on split-second timing that must be adhered to. The world and our biological and seasonal clocks follow a certain preset pattern that we must keep pace with.
We must be careful to keep time with our opportunities, not to lose a chance to say and do the right thing at the right time. We must adjust the settings on the metronomes of our lives to match the rhythm of what we’re doing otherwise we rush what requires patience and we dawdle when we require alacrity. We must keep time with the ebb and flow of the rhythms of our lives, the rhythms of those around us and follow the baton of the Master Conductor.
Whatever we do, wherever we go, our time signature affects our life signature and we have control of the tempo in which we play the various movements in our days. We must know how to prioritize and organize our time so we’re in step with the music of the universe.
Being in tune with the tempo, rhythm and time signature of our lives, allows us to live in harmony. Always counting the seconds and ensuring we use them well helps us to keep time properly whether we do it out loud, in our heads or just feel it.
Whether you’ve already changed to standard time or are at the season’s end of daylight savings, the pace of tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow need not be petty, if we mark our time carefully and make each second count.
Have a Good Month!
Rosally
I was traveling on a bus back from Tzfat. Behind me an Israeli was giving an Ethiopian new immigrant some tips. It didn’t sound like he needed them though. He had been in Israel a year and was already speaking Hebrew pretty fluently and was traveling to Petach Tikvah where he had purchased an apartment even though he didn’t have any profession. He seemed to be doing okay. He told his new travel companion about walking to the Sudan from Ethiopia during the night. It had taken four days.
“Where there any lions?”
“No, just robbers.”
“Ah!”
I usually go up to Metullah when I go up North but my friend from Metullah is spending the year teaching in Eilat, on the other side of the country, opposite topography, furthest North and furthest South.
I met a good friend recently with whom I had reconnected a few months ago after twenty years. We went for a drink at the place we first met 27 years ago. It looked different. So do we. Our conversation’s the same though, same rhythm, same dynamic, same upbeat. He divides his time between family and work in New Zealand, Hungary and England. And Israel.
Josh, my son, my wonderful son till-120! is learning in Beit-El. It’s a 40 minute drive with a car but two hours by bus. It seems further the longer he’s away. But he comes home and it’s a nice place. Leaving home is a rite of passage.
A good friend just moved apartments. Her cat, apparently disoriented went missing for 10 days. She was very distraught and almost despaired of seeing him again. But then she got a call from someone who had seen her notices and spotted the cat not far away. She ran to get him. They were happily reunited to the joy of all following the drama. Well, perhaps less so for her husband.
An old Yemenite man on the bus from Tzfat announced loudly that he was going to say Tefillat Haderech the prayer for a safe journey. And he did. While soldiers slept and teenagers talked on their cell phones and children settled in and the dark shadows of slumbering trees sped by. And some said Amen.
Each one of us is on their own journey but we all meet at the crossroads, or on the bus, exchange stories, take and give direction and accompany each other part of the way. Whatever road we take, we’re all on the same spiritual journey, going in the same direction. All we need is a ticket and a prayer to send us on our way.
Have a Good Month! And a Happy Chanukah!
Please pass on the following two announcements:
New! The Music of Forgiveness! A special musical evening dedicated to the journey of Forgiveness featuring Linda Tomer and Rosally Saltsman. For women only. Now accepting bookings for January and February. Please contact Rosally: rosally_s@yahoo.com
To see an excerpt and to order go here:
http://www.shemayisrael.com/publicat/rosallysaltsman/moneybook.html
Rosally
It’s All in the Timing!
By
Rosally Saltsman
When
I took piano lessons as a child, my teacher would always tell me to
count. But I didn’t like to count, I liked to feel the music. I
never became a very good pianist. Since then I learned to sing and
dance but when I sing or dance, I still don’t count.Whether you count out loud, in your head or just feel it, timing is everything. Without it, music doesn’t flow and neither does life.
Life is time-sensitive. If you think about it, everything is a matter of timing and synchronization; from sunrise to sunset, from baking a cake to catching a bus, from conception to birth, everything is dependent on split-second timing that must be adhered to. The world and our biological and seasonal clocks follow a certain preset pattern that we must keep pace with.
We must be careful to keep time with our opportunities, not to lose a chance to say and do the right thing at the right time. We must adjust the settings on the metronomes of our lives to match the rhythm of what we’re doing otherwise we rush what requires patience and we dawdle when we require alacrity. We must keep time with the ebb and flow of the rhythms of our lives, the rhythms of those around us and follow the baton of the Master Conductor.
Whatever we do, wherever we go, our time signature affects our life signature and we have control of the tempo in which we play the various movements in our days. We must know how to prioritize and organize our time so we’re in step with the music of the universe.
Being in tune with the tempo, rhythm and time signature of our lives, allows us to live in harmony. Always counting the seconds and ensuring we use them well helps us to keep time properly whether we do it out loud, in our heads or just feel it.
Whether you’ve already changed to standard time or are at the season’s end of daylight savings, the pace of tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow need not be petty, if we mark our time carefully and make each second count.
Have a Good Month!
Rosally
Master of Mercy
By
Rosally Saltsman
Yom
Kippur is the day our judgment is sealed for the coming year in the
Heavenly Court. We stand humbled by our vulnerability, sensitized by
our physical deprivation, awed by the holiness of the day, buoyed by
the hope of reprieve from the past year’s sorrows.
And we stand before God and beg for mercy.
We beg for mercy based on our remorse, on our determination to do better. We beg for mercy in deference to the merits of our fathers and with compassion for our sons. We beg for mercy because we are, when all is said and done, only human and susceptible to weaknesses, to failure, to errors in action and judgment and the pull of temptation.
God appraises our innermost thoughts, our deepest feelings and our most minute actions and He too considers whether indeed we have shown mercy.
Have we listened to our children and forgiven their childhood foibles or did we punish them harshly? Did we help the cause when we were supplicated, or did we brush off both it and its supplicant? Did we listen with empathy when a neighbor or co-worker began pouring out their troubles or did we hurry away mindful only of our own agendas? Did we quibble and criticize people who we felt were meant to serve us or were we gracious and appreciative? Did we yell at the lady who feeds the cats or birds for ruining the neighborhood and encouraging pestilence or did we smile at her and offer to contribute some scraps? Did we sit resolutely staring out the bus window, or did we look around and offer a seat to the pregnant lady or elderly gentleman? Have we forgiven, encouraged, helped and understood? Did WE show mercy?
Every Yom Kippur, we are spared the terrible Day of Judgment when we will have to account for all our actions and their ramifications in this world and the next. We endure a mini-trial in which we are, God-willing, given another chance to redress wrongs, redeem ourselves and find Divine favor. While we are standing alone, with whispered prayers on our parched lips, swaying with fervor and exhaustion, with tears coursing down our cheeks, imploring, entreating, begging for a chance to be the best we can emulating the Divine attributes, let us commit to being more merciful to all of God’s creatures.
Wishing us all a Happy New Year! A healthy, happy, prosperous, safe, fulfilling and sweet year!
Shanah Tovah Umetuka
V’Gmar Chatimah Tovah!
And we stand before God and beg for mercy.
We beg for mercy based on our remorse, on our determination to do better. We beg for mercy in deference to the merits of our fathers and with compassion for our sons. We beg for mercy because we are, when all is said and done, only human and susceptible to weaknesses, to failure, to errors in action and judgment and the pull of temptation.
God appraises our innermost thoughts, our deepest feelings and our most minute actions and He too considers whether indeed we have shown mercy.
Have we listened to our children and forgiven their childhood foibles or did we punish them harshly? Did we help the cause when we were supplicated, or did we brush off both it and its supplicant? Did we listen with empathy when a neighbor or co-worker began pouring out their troubles or did we hurry away mindful only of our own agendas? Did we quibble and criticize people who we felt were meant to serve us or were we gracious and appreciative? Did we yell at the lady who feeds the cats or birds for ruining the neighborhood and encouraging pestilence or did we smile at her and offer to contribute some scraps? Did we sit resolutely staring out the bus window, or did we look around and offer a seat to the pregnant lady or elderly gentleman? Have we forgiven, encouraged, helped and understood? Did WE show mercy?
Every Yom Kippur, we are spared the terrible Day of Judgment when we will have to account for all our actions and their ramifications in this world and the next. We endure a mini-trial in which we are, God-willing, given another chance to redress wrongs, redeem ourselves and find Divine favor. While we are standing alone, with whispered prayers on our parched lips, swaying with fervor and exhaustion, with tears coursing down our cheeks, imploring, entreating, begging for a chance to be the best we can emulating the Divine attributes, let us commit to being more merciful to all of God’s creatures.
Wishing us all a Happy New Year! A healthy, happy, prosperous, safe, fulfilling and sweet year!
Shanah Tovah Umetuka
V’Gmar Chatimah Tovah!
Taken for a Ride
By
Rosally Saltsman
I’m
very much against hitchhiking and am very opposed when my son and his
friends want to hitchhike as part of their backpacking trips. I only
acquiesce when my son assures me they do it in pairs or groups,
there’s no other way to get where they’re going and
they’ll be very, very careful whom they get in the car with. I
hate the whole thing. I didn’t even hitchhike when I was in my
early twenties when I was more carefree and adventurous.
However, uncharacteristically, when funds were low and my son’s vacation and mine intersected by a week and the North beckoned and I wanted my son to feel he had a cool mother, I said, let’s hitchhike up North and you plan the route.
My son took a lot of pictures of me hitchhiking, with my nouveau jeunesse, (or clochard-esse) much like you would an unusual natural phenomenon like a comet or a two-headed camel. Although he was a bit hesitant about the whole thing, he seemed to enjoy it. It was actually a lot of fun if not too big an adventure. We got a ride off the main highway with two young religious girls going up North. While they were originally going Northwest, they changed their mind and headed Northeast to Kiryat Shemoneh exactly where we were going. Couldn’t have had better luck.
For the next couple of days, we hitchhiked back and forth from Metullah to Kiryat Shemeoneh, to the Jordan River and my son kept snapping pictures of his hitchhiking mother. I was rather disappointed on the morning of the third day when he insisted we take the bus home which was rather less fun, more uncomfortable and more expensive.
This morning, a mere week later, I was waiting at the bus stop for my bus to work. A car with two middle-aged, religious Arab women stopped and asked for directions to the courthouse. As the courthouse was on my way to work, I said I’d direct them if they let me ride with them. It was two seconds after I closed the door that I realized what I was doing and I was suddenly gripped by fear and awash with discomfort. This was not a good situation.
Oh well, I rationalized, it’s unlikely that two middle-aged women who were on their way to the courthouse and just asking directions (after all I volunteered to ride with them), would be very dangerous, I thought to myself rather unconvincingly.
“Where are you from?” I asked, trying to sound casual, as they spoke between them in Arabic.
“Lod,” one answered. Okay that’s pretty safe.
There seemed to be some confusion, however, as to whether they wanted the courthouse or the police station so I asked in order to ascertain which it was most likely to be why they were going there.
“Someone in our family has been arrested.”
Ah.
“Okay, make a left at the next light and let me off at the bus stop,” I said and then proceeded to direct them to the police station. I was relieved and shaking when I got out. I had in my hand the five shekel coin I had intended to use for the bus and put it in the charity box of the synagogue near the bus stop.
I realized something, after my early morning adventure. When you try and change an inclination, a behavior, a habit, whatever it may be, no matter our ingrained it is, and you take a step in the opposite direction, you never know how far you might end up the other way.
I think my experience this morning gave me a wake-up call and I’ll revert back to my more cautious and diffident ways regarding hitchhiking.
Yet in this month of reflection and introspection as we lead up to our annual Days of Judgment, it’s illuminating to bear in mind that we can affect change in ourselves (for better or worse) just by taking one small step in the other direction. So we must be vigilant if we find ourselves slipping a little and not try and delude ourselves that some principle we are being momentarily lax about is no big deal. And we must take heart and have hope that if we want to change some negative character trait or habit, all we have to do is lean a bit the other way, take one small step, and we’re on the road to wherever we want to go. We just need to be careful whom we take a ride with.
Have a good month!
Rosally
However, uncharacteristically, when funds were low and my son’s vacation and mine intersected by a week and the North beckoned and I wanted my son to feel he had a cool mother, I said, let’s hitchhike up North and you plan the route.
My son took a lot of pictures of me hitchhiking, with my nouveau jeunesse, (or clochard-esse) much like you would an unusual natural phenomenon like a comet or a two-headed camel. Although he was a bit hesitant about the whole thing, he seemed to enjoy it. It was actually a lot of fun if not too big an adventure. We got a ride off the main highway with two young religious girls going up North. While they were originally going Northwest, they changed their mind and headed Northeast to Kiryat Shemoneh exactly where we were going. Couldn’t have had better luck.
For the next couple of days, we hitchhiked back and forth from Metullah to Kiryat Shemeoneh, to the Jordan River and my son kept snapping pictures of his hitchhiking mother. I was rather disappointed on the morning of the third day when he insisted we take the bus home which was rather less fun, more uncomfortable and more expensive.
This morning, a mere week later, I was waiting at the bus stop for my bus to work. A car with two middle-aged, religious Arab women stopped and asked for directions to the courthouse. As the courthouse was on my way to work, I said I’d direct them if they let me ride with them. It was two seconds after I closed the door that I realized what I was doing and I was suddenly gripped by fear and awash with discomfort. This was not a good situation.
Oh well, I rationalized, it’s unlikely that two middle-aged women who were on their way to the courthouse and just asking directions (after all I volunteered to ride with them), would be very dangerous, I thought to myself rather unconvincingly.
“Where are you from?” I asked, trying to sound casual, as they spoke between them in Arabic.
“Lod,” one answered. Okay that’s pretty safe.
There seemed to be some confusion, however, as to whether they wanted the courthouse or the police station so I asked in order to ascertain which it was most likely to be why they were going there.
“Someone in our family has been arrested.”
Ah.
“Okay, make a left at the next light and let me off at the bus stop,” I said and then proceeded to direct them to the police station. I was relieved and shaking when I got out. I had in my hand the five shekel coin I had intended to use for the bus and put it in the charity box of the synagogue near the bus stop.
I realized something, after my early morning adventure. When you try and change an inclination, a behavior, a habit, whatever it may be, no matter our ingrained it is, and you take a step in the opposite direction, you never know how far you might end up the other way.
I think my experience this morning gave me a wake-up call and I’ll revert back to my more cautious and diffident ways regarding hitchhiking.
Yet in this month of reflection and introspection as we lead up to our annual Days of Judgment, it’s illuminating to bear in mind that we can affect change in ourselves (for better or worse) just by taking one small step in the other direction. So we must be vigilant if we find ourselves slipping a little and not try and delude ourselves that some principle we are being momentarily lax about is no big deal. And we must take heart and have hope that if we want to change some negative character trait or habit, all we have to do is lean a bit the other way, take one small step, and we’re on the road to wherever we want to go. We just need to be careful whom we take a ride with.
Have a good month!
Rosally
Holy Books and Holy People
By
Rosally Saltsman
What
happened to me a few days ago is unbelievable. It was so divinely
orchestrated that it was a Master sonata of divine providence.
I was walking home in the early evening sweltering heat, the sun having it’s last story, glass of water and kiss good night before going to bed. As I was walking home from the bus station, I saw that someone had piled 14 volumes of the Tanach (the Bible) on the sidewalk. Just like that. I was appalled! Such lack of reverence! But the set was too heavy for me to carry home (a ten to fifteen minute walk), I had no money for a taxi and I certainly couldn’t leave them there. I called some friends to see if maybe the husband was home with the car. He wasn’t. As I was talking to my friend trying to figure out what to do, a grandmotherly Russian lady whom I had seen transferring her grandson into a parent’s car from a stroller had just passed near me and stopped. She stopped, while looking back and it looked like she was waiting for something.
“You know,” I told my friend, “I think I’ll manage.”
“Excuse me,” I said to the lady, “Do you speak Hebrew?”
“A bit,” she said.
“Look,” I told her, “Somebody threw these holy books on the sidewalk.”
“Oh,” she said forlornly, tsking. She said she had noticed it and it was a shame.
“Do you think I can borrow your stroller? Tell me where you live, I’ll take the books home, and I’ll bring it back.” She readily agreed but insisted on coming with me, not because she looked for a moment like she didn’t trust me but because she seriously wanted to partake in the mitzvah. I suggested perhaps to take the books home but she said she had some of the holy books in Russian.
She told me she was from a place in the Ukraine I’d never heard of. It’s near Uman she said.
She walked the ten minutes home with me and came up while I unloaded the books. She wouldn’t even accept a drink, and then walked back home.
I was so grateful and blessed her that in the merit of this mitzvah, her grandson should grow to be great in Torah.
I called my very dear friend who is a baalat teshuvah (becoming religious). “Hi, you know how you don’t have a Tanach,” I told her. “Well you got one now in 14 volumes!” She was thrilled!
There are so many inspiring lessons that can be gleaned from this story.
You can never tell what greatness hides behind a grandmotherly woman you meet on the street. It was like one of those Chassidic tales. A woman who can’t even read the Torah has such devotion and deference for it that she would accompany it with the same tenderness she had just showered on her grandson.
G-d is always watching, always with you and is always sending messengers to help you. And when you seek to serve Him, they’ll even stand around waiting for you to notice.
Have a good month!
Rosally
I was walking home in the early evening sweltering heat, the sun having it’s last story, glass of water and kiss good night before going to bed. As I was walking home from the bus station, I saw that someone had piled 14 volumes of the Tanach (the Bible) on the sidewalk. Just like that. I was appalled! Such lack of reverence! But the set was too heavy for me to carry home (a ten to fifteen minute walk), I had no money for a taxi and I certainly couldn’t leave them there. I called some friends to see if maybe the husband was home with the car. He wasn’t. As I was talking to my friend trying to figure out what to do, a grandmotherly Russian lady whom I had seen transferring her grandson into a parent’s car from a stroller had just passed near me and stopped. She stopped, while looking back and it looked like she was waiting for something.
“You know,” I told my friend, “I think I’ll manage.”
“Excuse me,” I said to the lady, “Do you speak Hebrew?”
“A bit,” she said.
“Look,” I told her, “Somebody threw these holy books on the sidewalk.”
“Oh,” she said forlornly, tsking. She said she had noticed it and it was a shame.
“Do you think I can borrow your stroller? Tell me where you live, I’ll take the books home, and I’ll bring it back.” She readily agreed but insisted on coming with me, not because she looked for a moment like she didn’t trust me but because she seriously wanted to partake in the mitzvah. I suggested perhaps to take the books home but she said she had some of the holy books in Russian.
She told me she was from a place in the Ukraine I’d never heard of. It’s near Uman she said.
She walked the ten minutes home with me and came up while I unloaded the books. She wouldn’t even accept a drink, and then walked back home.
I was so grateful and blessed her that in the merit of this mitzvah, her grandson should grow to be great in Torah.
I called my very dear friend who is a baalat teshuvah (becoming religious). “Hi, you know how you don’t have a Tanach,” I told her. “Well you got one now in 14 volumes!” She was thrilled!
There are so many inspiring lessons that can be gleaned from this story.
You can never tell what greatness hides behind a grandmotherly woman you meet on the street. It was like one of those Chassidic tales. A woman who can’t even read the Torah has such devotion and deference for it that she would accompany it with the same tenderness she had just showered on her grandson.
G-d is always watching, always with you and is always sending messengers to help you. And when you seek to serve Him, they’ll even stand around waiting for you to notice.
Have a good month!
Rosally
Snapshots from G-d’s Photo Album
By
Rosally Saltsman
Pippa's Song
THE year’s at the spring,
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hill-side’s dew-pearl’d;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in His heaven –
All’s right with the world!
Robert Browning
THE year’s at the spring,
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hill-side’s dew-pearl’d;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in His heaven –
All’s right with the world!
Robert Browning
There’s something intrinsically wrong with the above poem. Not that I have anything against Robert Browning, or the poem, it’s very nice but the concept that G-d is divorced from our lives and sits up in heaven on his throne smiling benignly down at us is more reminiscent of Dumbledore than The Creator of the universe.
Allow me to share with you 36 consecutive hours in the past month to illustrate how G-d is right beside us every second orchestrating events that seem to paint with a neon-colored paintbrush “I AM HERE” with almost the same clarity that He spoke the Ten Commandments (well actually, the first two) on Sinai. And if we just pay attention, we can see it.
8:00 a.m. Tuesday morning. On my way to the bus stop, I pass bushes full of jasmine. The pervasiveness of jasmine blossoms is one of the things I love about living in Israel. I make the blessing on smelling flowers and sniff. The woman who had been walking behind me stops at the same time and makes the blessing over the roses, the next bush over. We smile at each other. “You have to stop sometimes and look at creation,” she calls after me. Freeze frame, click.
11:00 a.m. There’s a nationwide army drill. The siren goes off and we all hurry (okay go leisurely, it was a drill) to the nearest bomb shelter. Part of the bomb shelter in the building where I work doubles as a synagogue where workers pray the afternoon service (Mincha). One of the more humorous guys made a joke that they should have a siren every afternoon. He then turned to one of the secretaries and good-naturedly pointed out her that she was not appropriately dressed for a place of worship. This secretary is young and beautiful and dresses to show off her physical attributes. She replied by quoting chapter 121 of Tehillim (Psalms) and informing him that she says Tehillim every day which was followed by an argument of what chapters of Tehillim one should say, etc. The drill was over. Freeze frame. Click!
4:00 p.m. The above-mentioned secretary, we’ll call her Sheila, ‘cause that’s her name, comes into my office and asks me if I know where to get the book of Shir Hashirim (Song of Songs) she wants to learn it. I told her it’s in every siddur (prayerbook) and every Tanach (bible) but she didn’t have one. In the meantime my boss found it on the Internet and printed it out. She told us she wants it with explanations. She was also very interested in the lectures of Rabbi Zamir Cohen a very erudite young Rabbi who enjoys a lot of popularity in Israel.
My boss (who’s not religious by the way but is warm towards it) spends the next 15 minutes looking up in succession Tehillim and Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers).
I take some money from Sheila and tell her I’ll try and pick up the book for her on the way home. She hands me a hundred shekels hoping it will be enough. Snap.
5:00 p.m. From the bus I can see that the store I wanted to buy the book from was closed. I decide to get off the bus one stop before my stop and see if the Breszlev run store is open. It is. A beautiful ethereal creature steps up to the counter to serve me. Everything about her is flowing - her hair, her blouse, her dress, her smile. I feel strangely fragile in this mystical environment. “Do you have Shir Hashirim?” I ask her. She steps over to the bookcase and takes out two. One is with interpretations by Rabbi Zamir Cohen. She informs me it’s the only copy she has and has been there a while. I get all emotional. “God is everywhere,” she says with a voice that is at once otherworldly and grounded when I explain the “coincidence”. The book costs 30 shekels. She throws in a few pamphlets and sensing my fragile state makes me a gift of a pamphlet on Being Happy. I ask her to gift-wrap the book. Snap, snap, snap.
7:00 a.m. I’m on my way to Tel-Aviv to order new discs. I’ve only sold 12, but somehow am running out. I’m sitting on the bus saying Tehillim. A young man sits down besides me and soon takes out what looks like a Muslim version of Tehillim. After a few minutes my curiosity gets the better of me. “Is that like an Arabic Tehillim?” I ask him. “Yes,” he answers. “Well, What’s in it?” I ask. “Prayers you say in the morning.” Ah. After a while I see him scribble something in English on an envelope. I try to unobtrusively see what he wrote. “Please God, something our homes.” At least I hope it said homes. A young Arab man and a middle-aged Jewish woman sitting side by side on a bus in Israel, praying. Telephoto focus. Click!
9:30 a.m. I excitedly hand Sheila the package and her change. She can’t believe it’s Rbbi Zamir Cohen. She loves it, throws me a kiss and sends me an effusive email. She later tells me her friend wants the same book. Snap.
6:00 p.m. I get home physically and emotionally drained. Me and my son have a conversation about my precarious financial state. He’s very mature and supportive. I’m on the precipice of doom. Emotionally exhausted I go to the computer. There’s a knock at the door. It’s one of the ladies from the neighborhood who goes around asking for charity. She looks at me with sad eyes and a look that begs compassion. I give her something. She asks for more. I say I don’t have. She looks up at me pleading. I give her more. As I close the door, I gain a little perspective on how bad things really can get. I am still, thank G-d, able to give. Message received. Click.
All is right with the world, even if we don’t always acknowledge it, because G-d is, like my ethereal friend said, everywhere, always, guiding, blessing, watching and filling His album with Kodak moments.
So smile!
Thought for the month: G-d moves the earth, I’m only along for the ride.
Have a good month!
Rosally
Facing Facebook
By
Rosally Saltsman
When
I was growing up, the only networks I was familiar with were the CBC
and CTV. Now network is a verb. And networking is something you do with
anyone, anytime, anywhere, virtual friends and virtual strangers,
virtually all the time.
My introduction to Facebook was via my friend Judy who categorically refuses to talk to me unless I write on her wall. I was taught not to write on walls so we haven’t been communicating very much. Slowly but surely I notice my friends have stopped emailing as frequently, but if I go on Facebook they’re very busy talking to their walls.
Now I object to Facebook on a number of principles. First of all, I like to have private conversations. I don’t need an audience when I talk to a friend. Extroverted as I am, I like a certain degree of privacy. Secondly, I’m a person who likes deep relationships. Facebook doesn’t lend itself to depth. Do you know I’ve never even met some of my friends on Facebook. And third, I don’t have time to communicate with half the world. I know the part of the idea behind this is networking, building relationships and contacts and you do save time date updating everyone simultaneously but it still somehow takes more time commitment than the good old fashioned one-to-one communication.
Of course I know it’s a losing battle. Facebook is here to stay like answer machines and cell phones and every advance that makes communication faster, easier, more accessible and somehow less personal. On the other hand, a couple of things have happened to change my tune and sing Facebook’s praises. Firstly Facebook, undeniably, is a great way to find old friends. I happened to search for someone I hadn’t seen for the better part of 2 decades, as Divine providence would have it, he came to Israel very soon after I found him and I was able to reunite with him for a couple of hours. Since he now lives in New Zealand, and we have no mutual friends, I doubt I would have found him any other way.
300 years ago, okay it was only 30 it just seems that long ago, I spent my freshman year at Brandeis University. I shared a suite with 15 other girls and we made a year of memories. At least they were memories until a few days ago when one of them contacted me and told me they were organizing a reunion. I won’t be able to attend as the reunion will be in New York and I am in Israel so I nostalgically filed the data away in my brain. But Facebook quickly reunited me with many of my old suitemates, girls, now women that I never though I’d ever speak to again. Suddenly memories came flooding back and it was neat to see how we girls on the threshold of our dreams have grown and realized them 30 years later with children now the same age as we were when our lives intersected at the crossroads of our lives. As the correspondence between me and my suitemates expanded, I felt myself strangely getting younger, Billy Joel playing in the cobwebs of my mind and feeling a camaraderie that comes from a shared past taken out of storage.
But spiritually Facebook may have other perks. Consider this, according to Jewish tradition, when we die, we see our lives replayed to us sort of like a DVD. We see our triumphs and our mistakes and how we could have better realized our potential. Well, when we reconnect with people from our past and relive our pasts with a virtual audience, aren’t we being given a chance to make amends, to express thanks, to wax nostalgic and maybe be given a second chance at relationships that didn’t go so well the first time around? Do we not have access to the past in a way we never did before? Are we not given the opportunity to better our lives by closing circles, finishing unfinished business and making up for lost time, virtually, simultaneously living different parts of our lives in tandem?
And when we talk of the unity that God has been waiting for for millennia among His people, is not Facebook unifying? I mean people from all over the world connecting to people all over the world, sharing their daily joys with each other, bridging time and space and differences that don’t have an icon on one’s page of “friends”. That’s pretty unifying. And every few minutes, Facebook offers to connect you to friends in common, searching through the common denominators trying to bring people together. True it’s virtual, and sometimes annoying, but virtually, the whole world is out there for you to connect to, to bond with to add as a “friend”.
A well-known Rabbi I’m friends with once quipped, “Wouldn’t it be great if we could fax ourselves all over the world?” Well, let’s face it that’s sort of what we’re doing.
The girls from East quad’s suite 209 never dreamed they’d be together 30 years later. And though we can’t all make our reunion, we are back together on Facebook. Maybe world peace is still an ephemeral dream, waiting for the End of Days. But for world unity…, well take a page from my facebook…
But you an also call or send an email…
Have a good month!
Rosally
My introduction to Facebook was via my friend Judy who categorically refuses to talk to me unless I write on her wall. I was taught not to write on walls so we haven’t been communicating very much. Slowly but surely I notice my friends have stopped emailing as frequently, but if I go on Facebook they’re very busy talking to their walls.
Now I object to Facebook on a number of principles. First of all, I like to have private conversations. I don’t need an audience when I talk to a friend. Extroverted as I am, I like a certain degree of privacy. Secondly, I’m a person who likes deep relationships. Facebook doesn’t lend itself to depth. Do you know I’ve never even met some of my friends on Facebook. And third, I don’t have time to communicate with half the world. I know the part of the idea behind this is networking, building relationships and contacts and you do save time date updating everyone simultaneously but it still somehow takes more time commitment than the good old fashioned one-to-one communication.
Of course I know it’s a losing battle. Facebook is here to stay like answer machines and cell phones and every advance that makes communication faster, easier, more accessible and somehow less personal. On the other hand, a couple of things have happened to change my tune and sing Facebook’s praises. Firstly Facebook, undeniably, is a great way to find old friends. I happened to search for someone I hadn’t seen for the better part of 2 decades, as Divine providence would have it, he came to Israel very soon after I found him and I was able to reunite with him for a couple of hours. Since he now lives in New Zealand, and we have no mutual friends, I doubt I would have found him any other way.
300 years ago, okay it was only 30 it just seems that long ago, I spent my freshman year at Brandeis University. I shared a suite with 15 other girls and we made a year of memories. At least they were memories until a few days ago when one of them contacted me and told me they were organizing a reunion. I won’t be able to attend as the reunion will be in New York and I am in Israel so I nostalgically filed the data away in my brain. But Facebook quickly reunited me with many of my old suitemates, girls, now women that I never though I’d ever speak to again. Suddenly memories came flooding back and it was neat to see how we girls on the threshold of our dreams have grown and realized them 30 years later with children now the same age as we were when our lives intersected at the crossroads of our lives. As the correspondence between me and my suitemates expanded, I felt myself strangely getting younger, Billy Joel playing in the cobwebs of my mind and feeling a camaraderie that comes from a shared past taken out of storage.
But spiritually Facebook may have other perks. Consider this, according to Jewish tradition, when we die, we see our lives replayed to us sort of like a DVD. We see our triumphs and our mistakes and how we could have better realized our potential. Well, when we reconnect with people from our past and relive our pasts with a virtual audience, aren’t we being given a chance to make amends, to express thanks, to wax nostalgic and maybe be given a second chance at relationships that didn’t go so well the first time around? Do we not have access to the past in a way we never did before? Are we not given the opportunity to better our lives by closing circles, finishing unfinished business and making up for lost time, virtually, simultaneously living different parts of our lives in tandem?
And when we talk of the unity that God has been waiting for for millennia among His people, is not Facebook unifying? I mean people from all over the world connecting to people all over the world, sharing their daily joys with each other, bridging time and space and differences that don’t have an icon on one’s page of “friends”. That’s pretty unifying. And every few minutes, Facebook offers to connect you to friends in common, searching through the common denominators trying to bring people together. True it’s virtual, and sometimes annoying, but virtually, the whole world is out there for you to connect to, to bond with to add as a “friend”.
A well-known Rabbi I’m friends with once quipped, “Wouldn’t it be great if we could fax ourselves all over the world?” Well, let’s face it that’s sort of what we’re doing.
The girls from East quad’s suite 209 never dreamed they’d be together 30 years later. And though we can’t all make our reunion, we are back together on Facebook. Maybe world peace is still an ephemeral dream, waiting for the End of Days. But for world unity…, well take a page from my facebook…
But you an also call or send an email…
Have a good month!
Rosally
Great Expectations
By
Rosally Saltsman
I’ve
been paying attention recently to an interesting fact. The most famous
and accomplished people were disappointed in their achievements and
lacked fulfillment in the very areas in which they excelled. Many of
them did not realize their fondest dreams: Many inventions were created
by accident by inventors trying to do something else, several composers
left symphonies unfinished, Van Gogh only sold one painting in his
lifetime and l’havdil, Moses did not get to enter the Promised
Land.
No one in their right mind would say these people had failed but it’s noteworthy that it’s particularly the overachievers who are plagued by lack of self-esteem, self-doubt, unrealized dreams and disappointment in their achievements. Kind of paradoxical eh?
And the biggest irony is that while these great people, and many of us, who are unbeknownst to us also great people, are focusing on our lack of fulfilling what we perceive to be our destinies, we are ignoring our very real and contributory achievements because we often set our sights too high or don’t appreciate what we’ve done and where we’re going. We create, but not exactly how we wanted to, we earn acclaim, but not for what we wanted, we get love and admiration but not enough and not from the “right” people, we are successful, but not enough.
Not to be too hard on our species, it is part of our nature to want to achieve and to not rest on our laurels. This helps us achieve even more and not get too arrogant or complacent. On the other hand, we don’t get to enjoy our lives when we’re focusing on what we haven’t done and we are lacking gratitude for the gifts of accomplishment we have already been given. Every success is not an end in itself but a stepping-stone to a greater one.
We can be proud of our achievements and strive for greater ones. We can be happy with our accomplishments while still wishing we can do more and we can take a lesson from our predecessors, all of whom unjustifiably felt that they hadn’t done enough. We can feel good about what we’ve done and that more than second-guessing ourselves will help us do more.
Human beings are programmed to aspire to greatness and have tremendous resources to achieve it. And though we all have our moments and opportunities for surpassing even our greatest expectations, we don’t have to wait for that defining moment. Each act and moment has inherent greatness in it if we use it the right way.
The truth is, we are all given myriads of potential, very little of which we use. Our limitless spiritual, emotional and intellectual energies are constricted by time, space and by our physical and monetary limitations. However, knowing it’s there and knowing we can tap into it should give us freedom not frustration. Perhaps it is our destiny to strive and sometimes feel we missed the mark. But if we consider the prophets, artists, musicians, scientists and leaders whom we seek to emulate, we’ll notice that even in our lesser moments, we are in good company. To paraphrase Douglas Adams, "I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where God intended me to be.”
Have a good month!
Rosally
No one in their right mind would say these people had failed but it’s noteworthy that it’s particularly the overachievers who are plagued by lack of self-esteem, self-doubt, unrealized dreams and disappointment in their achievements. Kind of paradoxical eh?
And the biggest irony is that while these great people, and many of us, who are unbeknownst to us also great people, are focusing on our lack of fulfilling what we perceive to be our destinies, we are ignoring our very real and contributory achievements because we often set our sights too high or don’t appreciate what we’ve done and where we’re going. We create, but not exactly how we wanted to, we earn acclaim, but not for what we wanted, we get love and admiration but not enough and not from the “right” people, we are successful, but not enough.
Not to be too hard on our species, it is part of our nature to want to achieve and to not rest on our laurels. This helps us achieve even more and not get too arrogant or complacent. On the other hand, we don’t get to enjoy our lives when we’re focusing on what we haven’t done and we are lacking gratitude for the gifts of accomplishment we have already been given. Every success is not an end in itself but a stepping-stone to a greater one.
We can be proud of our achievements and strive for greater ones. We can be happy with our accomplishments while still wishing we can do more and we can take a lesson from our predecessors, all of whom unjustifiably felt that they hadn’t done enough. We can feel good about what we’ve done and that more than second-guessing ourselves will help us do more.
Human beings are programmed to aspire to greatness and have tremendous resources to achieve it. And though we all have our moments and opportunities for surpassing even our greatest expectations, we don’t have to wait for that defining moment. Each act and moment has inherent greatness in it if we use it the right way.
The truth is, we are all given myriads of potential, very little of which we use. Our limitless spiritual, emotional and intellectual energies are constricted by time, space and by our physical and monetary limitations. However, knowing it’s there and knowing we can tap into it should give us freedom not frustration. Perhaps it is our destiny to strive and sometimes feel we missed the mark. But if we consider the prophets, artists, musicians, scientists and leaders whom we seek to emulate, we’ll notice that even in our lesser moments, we are in good company. To paraphrase Douglas Adams, "I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where God intended me to be.”
Have a good month!
Rosally
I Have an Idea!
By
Rosally Saltsman
One
of the favorite characters my son likes to imitate is Julian the Lemur
from the film Madagascar. Whenever we’re talking about options
for doing something, he says Julianesque, “I have an Idea.”
Having an idea or a plan is more than a good strategy; it could mean survival. Not only physically but emotionally and mentally.
When I’m faced with a challenge, a problem, a difficult situation what can be worse than having to deal with it, is not knowing how to deal with it. If I’m faced with a situation that appears hopeless, and I feel trapped and overwhelmed it’s very easy to sink into despair and give up. Then, not only can’t I solve the problem but now I have another problem, I can’t cope. That can leads to a lot worse things than the original problem.
But, if I have a plan! There’s hope, there’s light at the end of the tunnel and I can hold on till help comes, time passes or I realize the plan.
Now having a plan doesn’t necessarily mean it will work in terms of bringing ultimate salvation. However, having a plan will keep me going and able to cope. And many plans do work or lead to other possibilities. A plan, an idea, is the arms you must take up while splashing in a sea of troubles. It’s the life raft.
There’s no worse feeling than despair, that you’ve played all your cards and tapped all your resources – physical, emotional, spiritual, mental. But when there’s a glimmer of inspiration (usually in the shower), the despair drains away. The idea can be a realization born of the fusion of all the advice I had been getting or a new window of perspective and suddenly everything seems clear and possible.
I do great with plans. Although my friends don’t always appreciate their part in them. Hope for finding the solution is often more important than the solution.
Spring is the season of birth or rejuvenation, potential and hope which springs eternal.
Have a hopeful Spring and a Pessach Kasher VeSameach!
Having an idea or a plan is more than a good strategy; it could mean survival. Not only physically but emotionally and mentally.
When I’m faced with a challenge, a problem, a difficult situation what can be worse than having to deal with it, is not knowing how to deal with it. If I’m faced with a situation that appears hopeless, and I feel trapped and overwhelmed it’s very easy to sink into despair and give up. Then, not only can’t I solve the problem but now I have another problem, I can’t cope. That can leads to a lot worse things than the original problem.
But, if I have a plan! There’s hope, there’s light at the end of the tunnel and I can hold on till help comes, time passes or I realize the plan.
Now having a plan doesn’t necessarily mean it will work in terms of bringing ultimate salvation. However, having a plan will keep me going and able to cope. And many plans do work or lead to other possibilities. A plan, an idea, is the arms you must take up while splashing in a sea of troubles. It’s the life raft.
There’s no worse feeling than despair, that you’ve played all your cards and tapped all your resources – physical, emotional, spiritual, mental. But when there’s a glimmer of inspiration (usually in the shower), the despair drains away. The idea can be a realization born of the fusion of all the advice I had been getting or a new window of perspective and suddenly everything seems clear and possible.
I do great with plans. Although my friends don’t always appreciate their part in them. Hope for finding the solution is often more important than the solution.
Spring is the season of birth or rejuvenation, potential and hope which springs eternal.
Have a hopeful Spring and a Pessach Kasher VeSameach!
A Time to Laugh, A Time to Weep
By
Rosally Saltsman
There
is no greater teacher of life’s lessons than life itself. And
contrast is one God’s most potent tools to bring those lessons
home.
Two weeks ago, we celebrated the Bar Mitzvah of two of my closest friends’ son. We all gathered in a beautiful hotel in Netanya, with our families, many of us who hadn’t been together in ages and celebrated, with food, with song, with laughter, with prayer, with pride and joy. We took our hurried leave Saturday night, blessing each other that we meet again at future celebrations and taking note of whose simcha was next. We met sooner than we thought, the very next day, only it was to escort the mother of one of the friends we celebrated with to her final resting place. One had just begun his life as a full-fledged Jew; the other ended hers. A celebration of joy; a gathering of sorrow. The same group of people, two completely different defining life moments.
One doesn’t need to reflect too deeply to appreciate the lessons learned from this juxtaposition. But one does need to reflect. And we can wax philosophical about how we have to cherish the joyful moments because they flee too fast; that life is both full of joy and sorrow and we share them with our friends; that the circle of life is commemorated by beginnings and endings and that we can never be sure where we are on the carrousel of life and we can never know what the next moment brings. But I think we can do additional justice to the aforementioned events.
In the liturgical poem, A Woman of Valour authored by King Solomon about his mother, Queen Batsheva, recited every Friday night, it says: “Strength and majesty are her raiment, she joyfully awaits the last day.” While the meaning ascribed to this is that a woman who lives her life well, can reach her last day knowing it was well-spent and she was deserving of honor and respect, I’d like to offer another interpretation. We all will, one day, breathe our last on this earth and be called upon to give an accounting of the days of our lives. But knowing that our death, if not imminent, is inevitable, we must spend every day until our last joyfully. I remember the aforementioned woman being very vibrant and energetic. We all made our way to pay our last respects, with the strains of the notes of the bar mitzvah boy’s electric guitar still echoing in our ears and the smiles of the event still lingering on our faces.
I think, if we’re to take a lesson from the timing of the events, it would be this. Life has beginnings and endings, joy and sorrow, but when sorrow comes, it must always do so on the coattails of joy; there must be joy till the very last minute. Until our last day, we must live every moment joyfully and celebrate every day that we are able, because the climax of sorrow is the end of life when we can no longer rejoice. And even when life ends, we can still rejoice for a life well lived. The juxtaposition of sorrow and joy must often be so dramatic because we must always be hopeful, joyful, grateful. That is why it says in Ecclesiastics, It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting because it is there that we discover how truly precious life is.
The bar mitzvah boy’s father was glowing with pride, radiant as if he was a new father and he was. He was the father of a new man. It is this same father who called me the next morning with a heavy voice to relate the news of our mutual friend. Joy to sorrow in a heartbeat. That’s the only way sorrow should be allowed to intrude on our lives.
May we all meet to celebrate life’s happy and defining moments. And when the last day comes may it come on the coattails of joy and with the feeling of a life well and joyfully lived.
May our friend be comforted among the mourners of Zion; may the parents of the bar mitzvah get much nachat from their son and live to dance at his wedding and may we all know much joy and have many reasons for celebration.
Two weeks ago, we celebrated the Bar Mitzvah of two of my closest friends’ son. We all gathered in a beautiful hotel in Netanya, with our families, many of us who hadn’t been together in ages and celebrated, with food, with song, with laughter, with prayer, with pride and joy. We took our hurried leave Saturday night, blessing each other that we meet again at future celebrations and taking note of whose simcha was next. We met sooner than we thought, the very next day, only it was to escort the mother of one of the friends we celebrated with to her final resting place. One had just begun his life as a full-fledged Jew; the other ended hers. A celebration of joy; a gathering of sorrow. The same group of people, two completely different defining life moments.
One doesn’t need to reflect too deeply to appreciate the lessons learned from this juxtaposition. But one does need to reflect. And we can wax philosophical about how we have to cherish the joyful moments because they flee too fast; that life is both full of joy and sorrow and we share them with our friends; that the circle of life is commemorated by beginnings and endings and that we can never be sure where we are on the carrousel of life and we can never know what the next moment brings. But I think we can do additional justice to the aforementioned events.
In the liturgical poem, A Woman of Valour authored by King Solomon about his mother, Queen Batsheva, recited every Friday night, it says: “Strength and majesty are her raiment, she joyfully awaits the last day.” While the meaning ascribed to this is that a woman who lives her life well, can reach her last day knowing it was well-spent and she was deserving of honor and respect, I’d like to offer another interpretation. We all will, one day, breathe our last on this earth and be called upon to give an accounting of the days of our lives. But knowing that our death, if not imminent, is inevitable, we must spend every day until our last joyfully. I remember the aforementioned woman being very vibrant and energetic. We all made our way to pay our last respects, with the strains of the notes of the bar mitzvah boy’s electric guitar still echoing in our ears and the smiles of the event still lingering on our faces.
I think, if we’re to take a lesson from the timing of the events, it would be this. Life has beginnings and endings, joy and sorrow, but when sorrow comes, it must always do so on the coattails of joy; there must be joy till the very last minute. Until our last day, we must live every moment joyfully and celebrate every day that we are able, because the climax of sorrow is the end of life when we can no longer rejoice. And even when life ends, we can still rejoice for a life well lived. The juxtaposition of sorrow and joy must often be so dramatic because we must always be hopeful, joyful, grateful. That is why it says in Ecclesiastics, It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting because it is there that we discover how truly precious life is.
The bar mitzvah boy’s father was glowing with pride, radiant as if he was a new father and he was. He was the father of a new man. It is this same father who called me the next morning with a heavy voice to relate the news of our mutual friend. Joy to sorrow in a heartbeat. That’s the only way sorrow should be allowed to intrude on our lives.
May we all meet to celebrate life’s happy and defining moments. And when the last day comes may it come on the coattails of joy and with the feeling of a life well and joyfully lived.
May our friend be comforted among the mourners of Zion; may the parents of the bar mitzvah get much nachat from their son and live to dance at his wedding and may we all know much joy and have many reasons for celebration.
Dedicated to memory of Malka bat Zussman a”h
That’s Bad, That’s Good
By
Rosally Saltsman
The story tells of a little boy who gets separated from his parents at the zoo. He’s thrust from the paws of one animal to the claws of another until he’s finally returned to his parents’ loving arms. And the consequences of each transfer to a new denizen of the zoo turns out to be different than expected.
There’s a lot of wonderful lessons to be learned from this book and not only for little children. We go through a variety of experiences, some good, even euphoric, some bad and even ultimately tragic. However, we don’t always know how to differentiate between something we thought was good which was in essence bad, or something bad which turned out to be for the best. Even our own actions, be they positive or negative can have ramifications we could never have imagined. In any scenario there’s both good and bad, and we can’t always differentiate between them.
The news has been anything but good lately: Recessions and financial crises, war, personal tragedies, it’s devastating. On the other hand, there have at least been a few miracles alongside them in the news, the beginning of a new era, and hope. Also, in whatever area, we’re struggling, we can also find the rays of sunlight piercing through the clouds: loyalty of friends, the kindness of strangers and just pure sunlight heralding the spring.
We all eventually end up in the arms of our Loving Parent who put us here and Who watches over us at all times. Nothing lasts forever, not joy, not suffering. As we pass through the stations of our lives, which sometimes seem wild and wooly, our only hope is to focus on the good around us and to know that nothing is completely good, nothing is completely bad, and we can’t always be sure which is which. Salvation can come at any moment and there is meaning to everything we go through in life. And that’s just good.
Rosally
I Had a Dream
By
Rosally Saltsman
We always read the story of Joseph in the synagogue during Chanukah. The story unfolds over three Torah portions and relates the incredible chain of events as Joseph goes from being favored son to favored minister of Pharaoh, ruling over what was at the time the largest and most powerful empire in the world.
The story begins with Joseph dreaming a dream and telling his brothers about it. But the road from dream to reality is very long, very hard and very circuitous. But the most significant aspect of the story is the Divine Providence behind it. God is guiding events so that they will unfold the way they do, the way they're supposed to.
On a completely different note, I have just realized a dream of a quarter of a century. I recorded a disc of original songs, which I and my musical friends have written over the decades. This is a dream I had long given up on but it was recently reawakened and I have been working on this project for the better part of a year.
What has been obvious to me is that while I have been trying to orchestrate a disc, God has been orchestrating all the events surrounding my efforts to produce it; Events, which brought certain people into my life or back into my life, which meant some things wouldn't go as well as planned and others would go surprisingly well; and amid the feelings of triumph and frustration, I got a clear glimpse of Who was really producing the disc.