Looking on the bright side of staying young at heart

As I race - literally- across Manhattan's subways and streets to get to pick-up at the very last minute, my mind is clear and I can't help marveling.

Here I am, racing yet again. I am no longer a high school kid late to school, or a single in Berlin dashing into the cold to meet someone for beer. 

I am a well seasoned mom, with some grey hairs, a very established job. I'm someone who cleans dishes every night, looks at bathroom renovations with interest, can't fit into size 6 anything.

But I'm still running to get there. Sure, there is a new desire to stop every few blocks for breath that makes it physically clear to me that I'm also different than I once was, but - as I run through the premature darkness at 5:55 pm on a mild New York November evening- I feel like nothing has really actually honestly changed. 

And because I'm in a good mood today, I want to read that positively. I want to embrace the running-late soul that is deep inside of me and that makes the 41-year-old Rebecca so fundamentally like the 15-year-old one. 

So much around me has changed- starting with the world (the Wall, the presidents, the technology), my context (the job, the family, to some degree my convictions), and my own physical self. 

But some things have not. Likely these include my ideas. But if who-I-am is measured by what-I-think-- it's simply harder to remember to what extent i have stayed constant or changed. Or have I only changed marginally as new experiences have layered one on the other? Is there something like an ethic or an impetus or a vision that stays the same? But if I want to learn, don't I want to change, and so not be like my younger self? The level of ideas and identity is deeply complex. There's nothing intuitive about it.

But some of these most basic feelings and even more, some of those scenes I've been privy to before- I recognize them. I know in my bones what it feels like to run- and to feel for a moment late, yes, but also free in some strange but real way. Free to pass everyone else, to be one with a beautiful night, to move my body as fast as I am able. 

I'd like to capture those moments that are quintessentially me. To read a book on and on and it feels like time is stopping - it will be irresponsible in the morning, but in the middle of the night it's just quiet and endless and all-absorbing. To ride a bike and feel my small revolutions set off larger gears and pull a huge wheel across the road at my bidding. To laugh hard. To run late.

Grateful for a certain type

There is a certain type of person that I'm really attracted to.

If it is a woman- she is nice looking, smart, has a generous smile, maybe glasses, maybe just pleasant eyes. She's natural and somewhat fit without being an all-out sports enthusiast. No serious make up, no serious clothes, but a lovely real look. If she has kids, she's relaxed with them, attentive, but not helicoptering. If she doesn't, she might be more of a flirt, more fun, but never lost in that persona of pleasing others. She has a good sense of humor- part real fun, small part irony. She's compassionate and grounded, a doer and a thinker. That's who I aspire to be too.

If it's a man, he's a little gruff, a little tough, he might have an accent- Eastern European, Latino, Israeli. He's handy - he can fix things, and he's strong. He laughs generously, and there's some fundamental wisdom there- seeing life just as it is, no illusions, but no taking it for granted either. If he's a Dad, he's a really good one. He can cook and take care of a house - though it's a competency and not a passion- and he has a sweet and gentle side with kids, whom he can juggle with humor and responsibility. He is pensive and directive in good measure, tolerant and slightly impatient too.

Man or woman, he is a thinking type, reflecting on lived experience and abstracting ideas that help to radar in on reality more clearly. She is moral- not in strictly religious terms or according to outside precepts, but in the sense of being true to oneself, and trusting that "oneself" is a decent being, a social animal that prospers when others do as well. Both types are accomplished- getting things done and caring about doing meaningful things.

I've met some wonderful people who have built out this type for me. Not a few of them are Israeli or Jews imported from elsewhere, and I don't doubt that this is a character derived from those seminal experiences from childhood and through my career in the Jewish world. But some are Palestinians, Germans, Argentines, Albanians, French, Nigerians... Even Americans! When I was young I noticed that a disproportionate percentage of my friends had parents from elsewhere...

What creates the type? Is it a combination of secure upbringing and inherited loss that grounds- that creates compassion and realism together? So different from the entitlement of perfect security, and equally far from the existential fear of those who have suffered tremendously themselves.

Grateful for adversity?

I remember the wise words of my Mom when I was a kid, desperately begging for a doll that had just come to market and that my neighbor received as it hit the shelves for Christmas. It was a bust - with hair that you could dye, curl and otherwise style, and make-up you could apply. If I still wanted it so desperately in three months' time, Mom told me, it would be mine.

Sure enough, I never got the doll. Well before deadline, my neighbor and I were on to something else.

Some fundamental human traits don't change with age.

Studies (and SO corroborated by lived experience) show that human beings are hardwired to enjoy new things for a short time and then quickly to return to a state of not caring. Sure- when we get a new toy (and this doesn't seem to change based on age, so fill in anything here- piece of clothing, art, food, gadget...), we are happy and excited for a while, grateful, but it's soon over and onto the next.

Since gratefulness is directly linked to happiness, that's hard stuff. It forebodes a world of spoiled jerks for those who have means, and misplaced help for those who do not - well-intentioned aid that may all too often be ephemeral in effect. Complacency, boredom... icky stuff. Not what we hoped from enlightened society. 

What can be done to alter that prognosis? 

- an intentional "slow" practice of gratitude. 

Gratitude is a good idea, but Blogger already assigned me "veryverygrateful" (the name of this blog) in my effort to practice gratitude because the less hyperbolic names were taken. People are joining gratitude challenges, marathons- the more, the better. There's something deeply suspect about these formulas. 

Perhaps it is possible to lock gratitude in time instead? To be grateful not in quantity -- a lot, often, veryvery -- but rather with greater quality, more heft. Can we revisit, often, a few special and defining moments -- when someone gave good advice, when an opportunity was offered and seized? Can we spend the time in the first place to identify these defining moments in our own life?

- an active pursuit of new experiences and not things. 

Can we cultivate an appreciation for a smile, a laugh, a chance to dance, even - crazy - to work together - over material things? Sometimes people describe these as relationships over material- but relationships are complex and can't be a source of uninterrupted gratitude any more than objects can be. Instead- let's focus on moments of relationships. 

As we think of how best to help others too, there should be a strong preference - at least when situations are not life threatening - for skills over objects, teaching over handouts.

- finally, a pursuit of challenge, of adversity. 

That may sound overboard- who would ever choose difficulty? But it seems so clear that when adversity strikes, it brings with it a chance for deeper feeling, for transcendence, and yes, for a new level of appreciation. 

It would be nice to say that we feel that way only if we ourselves are struck- but actually observing others in adverse situations is also powerful. The kindest interpretation of this is that we have an amazing power to put ourselves in the shoes of others and feel with them.

That's why the inclusion in religions of imagined/re-enacted suffering (slavery at Passover, communion's symbolism) is so fascinating. We don't actually experience the suffering, but we try to deeply empathize through what amounts to ritual and symbolic play-acting.

In a society in which we have so much- it is fascinating to think about how we can do anything but take it for granted. The answers above all amount to stepping out of the rhythms of our daily life. It seems necessary to do this in order to be able to look at that very life and see its distinct contours and to recognize them as good. 

Being a woman

There are challenges to being a woman in our society today. 

Some are internal- I read a very on point article earlier this week about how difficult  it is for women to hear criticism and how important to develop a thicker skin. Hear that.

And some are external - glass ceilings, the undying old boys' clubs models, and the issue of poor maternity policies. I've been exceedingly fortunate to have had incredible employers who have given me space on that latter and most fundamental of external pressures.

But in many ways, I count my blessings to be a woman in New York in this day and age. Beyond the timeless extraordinary physical capabilities of womanhood, we are living in a time when societal norms are making it easier and better than it has ever been.  

Here are some key aspects that go way beyond the basics- safety, freedom to choose motherhood or marriage, basic healthcare...

-- Men are positively encouraged to be supportive not only financially, but with time, child care, house work, cooking, even emotions. 

-- Employers are trying to include women in higher positions and cannot legally discriminate. Awareness of inequalities doesn't always fix them, but it helps. Flex time in all of its iterations is a basis for many conversations. 

-- A societal consensus has emerged on the capabilities of women and the desire ability of including them in all arenas.

-- There is full acceptance of women's choices to work and make money or to stay at home. This used to be doctrinaire one way or the other- but I have the sense that women who make different choices are coexisting more than ever and more accepted. You'll always find pockets of resentment, but in general- both women working and women who are at home (actually not usually) are prized.

-- and not to be missed... Those pointy toed high heels are finally out.

I've benefitted a lot from all of these and I'm grateful.

Thoughts from a trip to Berlin

With so much news about virulent criticism of Israel morphing into antisemitism in Europe, I wondered about my plans to visit Berlin this summer. I wasn't scared for my safety, but had some trepidation about the potential for bitter, defensive conversations.

More to the point, I wasn't worried about conversations, but about not being able to have them; that I might find myself at loggerheads with people I otherwise liked, with old friends... being yelled at rather than talking. 

I was grateful to find another reality.

I've tried to explicate some of the specific political perspectives I heard below. With few exceptions, they were fairly sophisticated and nuanced- no one with whom I spoke had notions of uncompromising black and white. 

Of course if I had expected a pro-Israel consensus I would have been gravely disappointed. But fearing the opposite- blindly anti-Israel diatribes, I was relieved by the sanity of the discourse. 

I wanted to document my experience in order to help fill in a vacuum of understanding about the way this discourse is going - at least in Germany - and help mediate some alarming reports about the worst examples of discourse that seem to have been generalized to implicate the entire society.

Most significant to me was that I found virtually everyone with whom I discussed the situation open to listening. 

Why is it important to be open? Because it proves that viewpoints are not ideologically set, that learning, which is a fundamental condition of any real conversation - is possible. And because I felt that there was genuine interest in hearing my perspective, a Jewish one.

Why does it matter if a few people - the small sample of my friends - are open minded? Shortly before I arrived, there had been demonstrations including ugly antisemitic calls that were widely reported and some violent actions of grave concern. 

Two responses.

First, the offensive chants and behaviors also involved very few, and they were roundly condemned and prosecuted. It is important to understand that the perpetrators were generally relative newcomers to Germany who do not see themselves as heirs to its cruel past nor the lessons learned. Certainly, these incidents should serve as wake-up calls -- certain values such as tolerance are not optional, but rather foundational and must be accepted by all, and much more must be done to make this the case. What these incidents do not prove, however, is that Germany's broad post-War efforts to come to terms with its past and to create a better society and a more open one for Jews have failed, and it was this extreme reading that I saw reflected in much of the media coverage.

Second, a country or community - any group - doesn't stand out because of a majority, or even because there is an angry minority-  but because there is a minority that is committed to doing what is right and feels empowered. That's all, in my mind, you can ever expect -- and it's also he very best thing to hope for. Germany has been impressive to me not because of majority sentiment, but because of the individuals I've met who are so truly committed to building a better society and fighting antisemitism and racism and other inequalities in very profound ways. In this case- there is a healthy number, including the people I spoke with, who may be critical, but who are not blindly so and understand the complexity. 

One last note- I was so grateful for the unexpected openness I found - perhaps not in small part because it allowed me to be open too. I don't doubt that some of my concern in advance of the trip was that I might spend a vacation spouting talking points. 

That's not fun for me. I am someone who is eager to "translate" different experiences into greater understanding. And someone who wants desperately to see Israel living in peace with its neighbors and who needs to feel there is a chance precisely through the possibility of reconciling different narratives, pain and aspirations.

Below were some of the viewpoints I heard:

In general there was deep concern about the many Palestinian civilian casualties. One friend said she'd like to hear more nuanced viewpoints on both sides, but in particular on the Israeli side, and instead was presented with opposing black-white narratives in interviews with involved parties.

The demonstrations in Berlin were largely made up of people "of immigration background" as Germans say. Many are now also German citizens, but they carry with them a family history and often are attuned to a media and discourse whose origins are far away from Germany.

I heard strong concern about antisemitic utterances and acts that had taken place in Germany at these events - mirroring the clear condemnations of every major politician- and a worry that extremists might be bred and tolerated locally. It almost seemed a wake up call, though it is hard to predict if anything long term will result, nor is it clear what can be done most effectively beyond a society's strong insistence through education, political rhetoric, and civil courage on tolerance as a primary value, one learned in a most painful and personal way through the country's own history.

There was a deep concern about where this conflict might go and whether it would ever end, what if any long term solution might still be feasible, and a skepticism of the honest intentions of some of the players. 

There was also a clear and critical understanding of the destructive extremism of Hamas, and an understanding that Israel couldn't ignore open fire and tunnels. Perhaps the terrible revelations of ISIS acts that were concurrent with my visit lent additional emotional weight to that perspective.

It's personal

Getting tidbits of stories of so many friends and colleagues in Israel has given me pause - not so much to think, but to feel. 

Even if thankfully no one I know has been hurt- it is not hard to understand that the constant barrage of missiles and sirens and running takes an enormous toll on these people I like and admire. Perhaps even the greater toll comes from something that underlies all-- the fundamental ceaseless unease, even if it is  well hidden in many Israelis with their tough exteriors and on many FB posts with sardonic humor. 

And many of these friends happen to be worried about people beyond themselves, which makes it all even harder- caring for their small children, teaching other people's children, and helping others - in JDC's case the most vulnerable Israelis - elderly. disabled, poor.

So it feels very personal indeed. 

There have been two reasons why I have tried to temper some of those strong feelings as well. 

 

First- I realize the vast gap between my empathy and the actual experience of living under bombs. My empathy comes when I have time for it, the actual experience comes whenever a siren goes off and, in some low level but neverending way, all the time. Given that, it feels more fitting to  "listen" or read accounts than to make pronouncements.

And second, I'm very aware that I don't know as many Palestinians at a time like this though their human stories are doubtless devastating- and this does feel like the other part of the story.

Even if you disagree vehemently with the political decisions of Hamas, as I do, it is so important in my mind to recognize the human side. 

Here's a story that moved me deeply and forms my thinking on this: In his book reflecting on his experience during the Holocaust, Jorge Semprun speaks of a visit years after the war with a woman whose home overlooked Buchenwald, where he was held. She told him with great sorrow that she had lost a son in war. He responded angrily- how could she - likely a former Nazi party member - speak to him of her sorrow, which didn't nearly add up to his own? ...And it was "her side" that held Semprun and so many others prisoner and murdered countless of them. Later, in a moving scene, he reflects on his anger and comes to appreciate, though it is painful and hard, the fact that a mother's suffering is deeply real and to be honored- from a human perspective even as the political overlay remains abhorrent. And even if she cannot do the same and appreciate his pain.

The situation is of course vastly different. But when one recognizes pain and suffering and fear- it feels right to do so broadly.

The political judgements are something else again and I don't want to get I to that here. But two points that are general but seem important:

It's too easy to equate suffering with right, and it leads to wrong answers. We need empathy when we consider the political situation, we need to get the personal- but that alone is not enough- we also need  the ability to see the other side if we ever want progress. Political thinking should include but also transcend the personal. Empathy alone leads to anger and terrible mistakes. That's why Semprun's ability to  empathize on the other side is such a feat of humanity and a source of deep wisdom and hope for me.

And, second, it's important to look at the short term decisions and also at the longer term developments together. That's hard in the moment- but crucial.

  

Narrowing narratives

It's amazing to watch a big news story unfold over time. 

First there is a lot of random reporting. The news is all over the place, like pieces of a game- each one something in itself - a thought, a new fact, a comment or idea - but not necessarily tied to a greater whole.

That's an interesting time because the recipients of the news - if they really care - are actively engaged. They are trying out combinations of pieces, figuring out how seemingly unrelated bits fit together. They are making decisions- to weigh one piece of news more than another. They are truly bothered when they read something that doesn't work with what they have managed to bring together, but they can't quite rule it out.

And then suddenly the disparate pieces all start to merge together into a few big narratives. It's like someone discovered the game that's being played and now the scattered pieces take their rightful places. 

Each new story now serves a greater whole. 

How does that happen? In that initial period, a few interpretations are floated and some are stickier, seem to describe and explain the situation better. There is a certain satisfaction when these strong stories are found. They gain traction- they are repeated, restated.  There is a shift then- one gets the sense that  subsequent pieces of news are actually in the service of the larger narratives rather than the other way around.

I don't know if others are like me, but after a while of hearing these narratives, I often start finding them less rather than more convincing. It feels to me as if news is being squeezed to prove the story and the contrarian side of me starts wanting to poke holes in them and to point out contradictions.

Interestingly, it's harder to genuinely feel in this climate. This is the moment when a lot of people who don't really need to be invested tune out and when others seek like-minded confirmations. It becomes ideological- a question of belief rather than an open exploration of complex facts.

Of course there are still some people who embrace more than one narrative and make the point that it is a struggle to keep two narratives in mind simultaneously. But these voices  grow dimmer.

What am I grateful for? The insight into how this dynamic works, even as I have a horse in these races and care deeply about their outcome. But it feels too easy to have figured it all out, not reflective of a complex and changing reality.