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On the heels of my post from last week about not settling, emerged another question: “What is my capacity for joy?” If I go after what I truly want, how comfortable am I getting it? Or experiencing joy in general? It turns out I’m not all that comfortable. It’s been humbling to realize I feel better when things are going wrong than when they’re going right. And also to recognize I stop myself from feeling joy by imagining all the terrible things that could happen. More in this week's post. Also, here are the links to Amal's thesis and video.
It’s been a very up-and-down start to the new year for me. I’ve cried every day thus far, which is not my MO. I have a friend who jokes that it’s a good day when she only cries once but that’s not me. I’m more of a “cry as needed” type and I guess right now it’s needed because all this grief is coming up about my friend who died, yes, but about other things too. Grief is a gateway and once the door is open, grief about a variety of things waltzes through.
Even though I sync up better with the Jewish New Year, the Gregorian New Year still acts as a mile marker for me. I ask, “How does this year compare with last year? What did I think of this year? What happened?” When I contemplate 2023, I realize I couldn’t have predicted 99% of the things that transpired. I thought I knew what the future held but I didn’t, like, at all. More in this week's post.
Death is strange. You already know that but I’m stating it again: Death is strange. There are people who seem like they’re on their deathbeds, who you’re sure only have a few months to live who wind up sticking around for another five years. And then there are people who are young, who you think have another 40 years left, that die suddenly. More in this week's post. And here's a link to a news article about Matt.
It’s a weird time to be Jewish and to celebrate Hanukkah, which commemorates a military victory. I’m still lighting the candles with my friends and family but the whole thing has me contemplating many things: how to be in the world, what I think, why it matters, and who is listening.
One of my soul sisters sent me a birthday card that says, “This card is decorated with matter-of-fact boldness and fierceness, and so it is especially suited to you.” Her words keep ringing in my ears because I don’t feel particularly bold or fierce and I have trouble embracing those descriptions because for much of my life, the word “too” has been attached to adjectives describing me: too sensitive, too intense, too much. Some parts of me want to shrink and play small in order to stay safe. If I hit a certain threshold of boldness, fierceness, and intensity, I want to reel it back in but I’m not able to do that anymore. More in this week's post.
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