Serving my soul poetic justice
A ~literal~ story about ~metaphors~
Being creative every day of the week is challenging, even when I’m not processing grief at the same time. I tried to write a poem every day for seven days, but I honestly only got through two. Each time I went to write, the poetry turned into a story of sadness, a different not-so-subtle expression of grief and mourning. And that’s, of course, totally ok. But it is also exhausting, and a good way to get jaded about getting creative. I will keep writing poetry, and I’m sure a lot of it will be grief-related, but in a not-so-concentrated period of time. The other thing that happened this week, while I was challenging myself to be poetic, was the poetic justice of Yom Kippur, the day of Atonement, the Sabbath of Sabbaths, what people call the holiest day of the year in the Jewish calendar.
Here’s a not-so-surprising tidbit: the experience of Yom Kippur shortly after losing a loved one is extremely difficult, and, to be quite honest, a little lacking in deep meaning. It is a day meant for spiritual cleansing, which sounds like someone in mourning could use, but it’s a specific type of cleansing: atonement, asking for forgiveness; listing and emptying ourselves of the sins, mistakes, and bad choices of the past year. Upon personal reflection and reflection with my family, this simply did not feel right to do. It isn’t that I haven’t done anything wrong all year, it just feels like it’s minimal and meaningless in comparison to the great wrongdoing of my mom having cancer, getting sicker and sicker, and dying in less than a year. My good friend came by today and put it really well: instead of going to synagogue to confess my sins and say I’m sorry, I should have been receiving an apology. From God, or the universe, or the people in my life who haven’t necessarily been there for me, who’s to say.
Note: I don’t believe in a God who apologizes; I believe when I am in conversation with God, it is my doing the talking and processing, and God is the spirit/power of the universe that ~metaphorically~ listens and absorbs.
What I mean is this: I am in need of deep spiritual cleansing, but not the kind provided by the liturgy of Yom Kippur. I have found, in the past as well as this year, that the epiphanies, revelations, and powerful moments of a day like Yom Kippur come in the little moments where it’s least expected. For me, it’s often while I am walking to or from synagogue with my family (most specifically my Abba, my dad, my best sounding board for all of my ideas). I didn’t find meaning in the prayers, meditations, and messages of asking for forgiveness for sinning, but I discovered a different kind of forgiveness that is crucial to my experience as a mourner. I need to forgive myself — for feeling like I don’t have it all together, for being sad, for having moments of joy and happiness, for moving on with my life, for feeling stuck in time. (Sounds confusing? It is! I wrote a list of things that are opposites!) I feel like I’m living in a Catch-22: I start to adjust to what my life is like now, to feel “normal,” driven, ready to keep going — and then I get sad, feel guilty, not ready; I feel like I have to assure people that I’m still consumed by grief, including myself. And so, I need to forgive myself, create leeway — an extra notch in the jeans of my emotional belt, let it be ok for things to feel ok — and then not feel ok when they don’t. It’s a different kind of emotional rollercoaster, one that doesn’t have that instructional video on repeat while you wait in line…
So I won’t keep my hands inside the car at all times. Sometimes, they’ll be up in the air, waving like they just don’t care. Sometimes, they’ll be sitting calmly in my lap. Sometimes, they’ll be gripping the safety bar, white-knuckled and sweating. Sometimes, they’ll be holding the hands of whoever’s sitting next to me. Sometimes, they’ll — I’ll — just be. And that will be okay.
Next week’s challenge: mindful eating week! Sunday night begins the Jewish holiday of Sukkot, the festival of booths (or huts). It’s a week long holiday where we celebrate with festive meals, guests, and revelry — all outside in temporary homes. So, I’m challenging myself, and all those who would like to join me, to engage in mindful eating: have no other activity or distraction while eating meals. This includes: TV, music, podcasts, really all media. This does not include other people — share your meals with friends, not with screens. Good luck to us all, and chag sameach to those who observe!
