Regret

Throughout our lives, we find ourselves experiencing regret, often in spite of ourselves and even despite our best efforts.

Regret is a compelling emotion, for several reasons. First, unlike most other emotions, regret can be spawned by both the passive and the active: we can feel it due to something we said or did not say, actions we did or did not do, words or actions said or done but with the wrong inflection or timing, etc. So in a sense regret encompasses both the positive and the negative.

Yet what I find even more interesting is the fact that regret is experienced subsequent to a given event. It is an emotion that links that past to the present. And it can inform the future.

So regret carries a lot of power, which like all forms of power can be used for good or the opposite.

Since my father's passing a year and a half ago, I have felt more strongly than ever my tie to those who preceded me. Experiencing my father's absence constantly, I have been unexpectedly thrust into a new mode of living, one defined each moment by the fact that I now have to wait until Moshiach comes to speak to my father again, to hear his voice aloud again, and so on. Existing in this way, the time I did have with him has become magnified.

We all take our parents for granted to a degree. I say this because it is very difficult for any child to truly accept that one day our parents will no longer be with us in this world. And so, unable to completely acknowledge that fact consciously, our savouring of them while they are in this world is ever so slightly diminished.

Throughout my life, I always loved hearing my father tell stories of his family before they came to Canada. I remember one visit in particular as an adult where I spent an entire afternoon sitting with both of my parents just listening to him tell stories and asking questions. Since both of his parents had passed away before I was born, the only way I knew them was through these stories. But also, by hearing the stories I got to appreciate a different man than my father as I always knew him: my father as a boy in Germany, as a preteen fleeing the Nazis on the years-long journey to Canada, as a rambunctious teenager in Canada, as a young man before he me my mother.

Yet with all that knowledge, I never truly appreciated who and what my father was until now. I realize, in hindsight, that I did not appreciate the strong sense of yiddishkeit he instilled in me, the torahdik mindset he possessed and how it imbued all that he did. I did not acknowledge the truly exceptional person he was, in his own quiet way. Because as boisterous and Germanic as my father was on the surface, in the end he was always a man guided by the teachings he learned in the Mir back in Germany. Instead, it has only been since I began cherishing my memories of my father that he has come into sharp focus for me, only now that I have been granted a full view of him as a person, not just as my father.

The thing about regret is that we can either let it consume us or instruct us. I am happy to say that I have been fortunate enough to generally experience regret in the latter way, B'H'. Especially as of late. Feeling that sense of the past and consequently feeling its connection through me to both the present and the future, I try to honour my father every day by being the type of daughter he will continue to be proud of. And, by remembering that I perhaps took him for granted a bit too often, I cherish every conversation I have with my mother that much more. I try and learn from my previous mistakes, which I made at his expense.

So Daddy, I hope that I continue to remember that instead of being consumed by a sense of should of, would of, could of, I will continue to instead exemplify a sense of I should, I will, I can. Just like you taught me through your example.

Seductive Anonymity

Let me tell you, I've very much enjoyed reading everyone's comments on this blog. I've learned a lot from them, and have enjoyed the debates that have sprung up. (It's always nice to see people who are impassioned, especially over Torah. )

However, after deliberating for several days, I decided last weekend to disable any further anonymous comments. Basically, the vast majority of comments being left were anonymous, which resulted in the comments section becoming unwieldy. It became difficult for others to reference a given comment when responding, which I felt detracted from the whole "discussion" element of the posts. So I made the said change. However, since then nobody has left any comments! So I assume that people are concerned about being "identifiable" online. And that brings me to an interesting point about the internet.

First, I understand that there is a tremendous divide in the frum community over the internet and its use. And I empathize with both sides of the argument. Because, as a medium of communication, the internet has both good and bad elements to it, like everything else. So, I realize that certain frum individuals may be concerned about the chance, albeit minute, that someone in their given community could find out that the given individual has internet and that their children may consequently encounter problems with getting into yeshiva, shidduchim, and so forth. I have heard many people voice such fears.

However, I hope that people realize that even when leaving anonymous comments, those comments are never truly anonymous. If you know anything about internet protocols, you'll know that anyone can find out who sent what when. EVERYTHING, in other words, is traceable, whether you use a pseudonym, your real name, or select to be "anonymous". Don't believe otherwise.

So in future, if you don't have one already and want to leave a comment, please create a screen name for yourself. It literally takes less than a minute to create one. This way you'll still be "anonymous", but easier to reference with your chosen moniker.

As for ripples in the community based on how the community feels about media, etc.- more on that to come.

Shavua tov!

Emotion--less

It was a windy -6 Celsius/ 20 Fahrenheit as I made my trek to work today. I've noticed that the NYC weather people are particularly gleeful when the weather varies at all during the winter, since it gives them a chance to use mad terms like "chilly", "unseasonably cold", etc. in their weather reports. "Unseasonably cold" in particular always reduces me to hysterics, because NYC is balmy by Canadian winter standards. But that's the whole point; part of what I enjoy about these reports is the enthusiasm of the delivery. You can appreciate that the weather person has been waiting for a chance to report on weather that is extreme to any degree, since the NY area does tend to be a rather moderate climate. I can just imagine him or her waiting for a day like today in order to summon up the appropriate emotion.

It was this morning that I started saying Perek Shirah during my commute. And it occurred to me, while I watched everyone in that fascinating display of territorial stakeout that still bewilders me about NYC public transit, that you can choose to live your life enthusiastically and positively...or the opposite. This morning while I was reading, I tried to really drink in the beauty of Hashem's world. There I was reciting a phenomenally humble song of gratitude, and it reminded me how grateful I should be for this day, and every day. And yet what reminded me that I should display such gratitude, ironically, was the disparity between the words I was saying and the fact that I was slightly annoyed that I was sliding half off my seat, because my neighbour was taking up a full seat and a half of our two-seater. In other words, I noted that I was myself lacking enthusiasm for the given situation, when I should be like the elements in Perek Shirah and be oblivious to all but my happy place in the world. Because I'm here, and I'm here only to serve Hashem. Versus here to be annoyed by being pushed out of my much coveted seat!

Some days you can be filled with much emotion while davening, but that emotion doesn't translate into emotional davening. Instead, you're so preoccupied with your emotion that you end up being distracted. On such days, your emotion paradoxically disconnects you from Hashem. And yet, on other days, that same emotion can be the conduit for bringing you closer to the Creator. I was glad that while my davening this morning was initially distracted, I was able to do an about-face and channel my emotion into a positive connection to Hashem.

So with Perek Shirah, I'm trying to make every day an opportunity for positive enthusiasm for Hashem's world, in all its glory. Sort of like the weather people. And Hashem should please help make me capable of always translating that awareness, enthusiasm, and gratitude into the proper, positive connection with my Creator.

New Year for the Trees

Since there is about a half hour left of Tu B'Shevat, I figured I'll wish everyone a Happy "New Year of the Trees" while there's still time. :=)

I've always loved this day, even as a child. We used to mark it by eating figs, of course, which I admit to only developing a taste for in the last few years; I was definitely more into fighting off the other kids to obtain a date or olive. But we also bought trees from JNF, and I still remember to this day how impossibly proud I was each time I received that certificate (with my name on it!) showing that somewhere in Eretz Yisroel there was a tree because of my contribution.

While on the topic of trees, and nature in general, I've been getting psyched up to start saying Perek Shira. Being Ms. Friend-of-Nature, I figured that saying it would remind me of my place in the universe, not to mention remember to be extremely grateful to Hashem for the incredible beauty and purpose of His World. For all of you fellow nature lovers out there, I would definitely recommend it.

So that's the story for now. A Guten Tu B'Shevat to everyone, and let's all go eat some more boxer (and enjoy another beautiful sunset, courtesy of Hashem)!

Chassidishe Dating- A Responsa

I was very happy to receive the comment about Chassidishe dating for my last post; it raised a point that I now feel prompted to comment upon.

Most shidduchim are made in attempt to maximize success. To this end, couples are often assembled based on the boy and girl:

• Sharing nusach and/or hashkafah
• Being from a family that knows or knows of the other family

Such criteria results in certain families being deemed "good families", i.e. families whose children would be considered suitable for marriage. While I acquiesce that this criteria can increase the probability that the given children share common ground upon which to build a life together, I tend to also recognize that other factors play into whether or not a marriage is ultimately successful.

When I stated in my last post that "you knew your spouse very well before marriage", I was being extreme to make a point. However, my tactic appears to have backfired and the point was missed, for which I apologize. So, let me rephrase: while we attempt to minimize the risk involved in choosing a shidduch, all of us take a leap of faith when we decide to get married. We assume, based on either the agreed-upon criteria for compatibility (see above) or for any other number of reasons that draw us to the other person (they seem happy/ stable/giving/intelligent/ fun-loving, etc.) that they will be a good match for us. And really, that's all we can do: first form an opinion of the person and then make that critical decision. Because, irregardless of the length of time that you date and/or of how well you may know a given family and its values, you can never truly predict what the dynamic will be between two people once they are married. So you just do your best to garner a positive outcome and go from there.

I know couples with similar backgrounds who both did and did not work out, as well as couples with disparate backgrounds who are, B'H', happily married. I knew my second husband for three weeks before we got engaged; he proposed on our 10th date. This dating pattern was in contrast to my first husband, who I knew for several months. (I was formally introduced to my first husband by a shadchan at the shul we both attended , but he and I were both initially uninterested in each other. Suffice it to say that our view of each other changed.) My first husband and I had very different upbringings, but a similar mindset; my current husband and I have many cultural differences, but similar upbringings. So I have followed dissimilar paths to marriage, both in terms of length and "type" of partner. And while you could perhaps make the case that I knew my first husband better than my second before marriage, due the length of time that we took to get to know each other, time does not, in my experience, equal quality or insight. Although time did help to grow the bond between my first husband and myself, time did not leave me any better informed about how he would be in marriage. Because such insight about a person's ability to be married comes only after marriage.

And so it would seem, as I mentioned last night, that the mazel rests not in how long or even how well a couple knows each other; as the adage goes, we can never truly know someone until we live with them. Instead, it is how well each member of the couple is prepared to navigate differences and differing expectations post-marriage, and how adept they are at compromising that determines the final outcome. How well, in other words, are the boy and girl prepared for the responsibilities of marriage?

I have very personally experienced the havoc that divorce wreaks on individuals, their families, and the community. It is a tragedy all around- physically, emotionally, spiritually, and socially. I would never wish the experience on anyone. And so I write these posts in the hope that somehow, some way, by sharing my little thoughts I may help even one yid find and retain a successful marriage.

Hashem should help us so that we should all only know Shalom Bayis always.

Shalom Bayis

After receiving the comment that I did on Shidduchim, Part 1, which wished me better mazel with my second marriage than my first, I figured it was prime time to briefly discuss my perspective on marriage and its associated challenges.

I'm sure that everyone has heard the joke that the reason why our families can push our buttons so well is that they installed the buttons! I believe that marriage is two separate people coming together and creating a new entity, and in turn, a life together. In the course of our pre-marriage incarnations, we experienced different childhoods, different family structures, different life events. Those incarnations consequently resulted in each person entering the marriage with differing ways of reacting and processing experiences. Call them patterns, call them "issues", call them filters for dealing with various situations. But we all have them. I know I certainly do.

The main challenge then is finding a way to merge with someone who is not only completely separate from you (and who is the opposite gender and therefore possesses different priorities and coping mechanisms) but also has different expectations. Each person enters marriage expecting marriage to be a certain way, for each situation that arises to be handled a particular way, for each conversation to go a particular way. And those expectations need to be adjusted because the other person almost never possesses expectations identical to ours. We need to learn, if you will, to accommodate and respect these differences, to each of us adjust our preexisting patterns so that we can co-exist.

I also firmly believe, as unpopular a view as it is, that a woman's role in marriage is to help her husband. That does not mean acting as a shmata, tolerating abuse (has ve'shaom), or in any other way being subordinate to him. Rather, it means that as a wife, the primary focus in my life is my marriage, and my primary objective is to support and help my husband in any way that he requires it. I try, in other words, to give my husband what he needs. I will admit to occasionally overextending myself in order to fulfill this objective. But I know that he does the same. Moreover, I am diligent to not lose myself; by retaining my identity, I further our marriage, since you need two complete halves in order to make a whole.

I'd like to note that while we need to modify ourselves in order to accommodate the other person, this does not give us license to try to force the other person to fundamentally change themselves. We married someone, we chose them from millions of potential spouses, and we knew very well who they were before we married them. Why try then to change the essence of their personality after marriage?

So, in my humble opinion, we should cultivate in our marriage the sense that our spouse is our primary responsibility, and that their happiness is our goal and our privilege. As a wife, I try to create a supportive environment, a comfortable and tranquil home imbued with respect in order to protect my husband from the ills of his day. And by doing so, I believe that I am furthering him, myself, and our combined relationship with Hashem.

Gender

While recently walking in Manhattan following a business meeting, I began reflecting upon previous waves of feminism. Yes, feminism. And it was interesting to me that most of feminism has been reactionary, despite attempts by third-wave feminists to construct a "true", global dialectic based on the real experiences of women. This failure to accurately reflect the day-to-day lives of women has resulted in a fracturing of the ideology, since that ideology is predicated on the notion that the role of the family is oppressive to women, that it robs women of respect and financial independence. Rooted as it is in a Western, socialist mindset, a mindset that separates identity and life in general from religion, feminism responds to the question of gender by answering that women's minds must be changed in order to understand that the world and their identity therein is political, that their sense of self is rooted in an economic model that is imbalanced and must be balanced- by feminism. This model, you'll note, makes no mention of Hashem.

Yet if feminism balances the enslavement caused by consumerist, capitalist economics, then why do so many people still chose to have a family? Why, moreover, do so many women now work to the point of exhaustion in order to have both a family and work outside of the home? If the feminist ideology states that gender is a construct, that children are a consumer item that feeds the capitalist economy, then what has that ideology been successful in changing?

One could find fodder for the opinion then, that feminism has not really addressed the universal desire amongst people to have, as my husband puts it, a legacy. Canadian economist Harold Innis coined the theory that cultures are either spatial or temporal; spatial cultures are ones that focus on geography (i.e. this land is my heritage and constructs my identity) versus temporal cultures, which focus on establishing continuity across time (i.e. my culture and identity is rooted in the morality of my predecessors). Under this concept of cultures then, children are rooted in economics for spatial cultures (my child supports the economy of the given country and, in turn world) and in continuity for temporal cultures (my child will carry on the name and morality of my fore bearers). While feminism has attempted to address the former reason for children, the ideology has not made room for the latter.

Women have, in frumkeit, always been defined as equal to men. Moreover, women have always been granted financial rights: they can possess property, are entitled to retaining their earnings, etc. It is the acknowledgment of women's traditional role in the home that is precisely the reason for women's exclusion from performing certain mitzvot; such an exclusion, in other words, is due to the equal respect and consideration given to the role of women, not because women are deemed incapable or unworthy. They are simply released from the obligation to perform those mitzvot. Feminism fails to take into account these disparities of economics and identity between feminism and frumkeit.

Why am I devoting so much verbiage to an ideology that is irrelevant to yiddishkeit, that cannot accurately represent the reality of frum women? First, I mention this gap because I believe that feminism has infiltrated the frum community. It could stem from the rise of Baalei Teshuvah in North America, or from the increasing number of frum people who are seeking a secular education in order to further their economic status, or from many other reasons. Regardless, it is this conflicting ideology that is helping convince singles to stay single, this ideology that is convincing both young men and young women to contemplate alternate versions of yiddishkeit.

The Harold Innis theory leaves out a third type of culture, which I am now charting, namely a hybrid culture that I will label spatial/temporal. In this third type, of which yiddishkeit is an example, the given culture gives equal emphasis to the temporal (i.e. Torah) and spatial (i.e. Eretz Yisrael). How does this labelling of yiddishkeit as a hybrid culture affect gender and economics? Under this label, gender is based on the examples of the matriarchs and patriarchs, on living your life as exemplified by those individuals. Identity and economics become rooted in turn in the concepts and laws documented in the Torah- the word of Hashem. That is why yiddishkeit is a "world religion"; yiddin can live their lives in Asia the same as they do in Florida, or anywhere else. Until gallus ends anyway.

For those who acknowledge Hashem, and the role of Torah, there should be no confusion then. Gender roles are acknowledged, respect is equally granted, and economics open to all. Now that's a culture I can be thrilled as a woman to belong to.