Shabbat (a Few Days Past the Full Moon in Leo) Shalom & Community Reading

it's been a rough couple of weeks.  the new moon a few days before my birthday and the one year anniversary of my moving to a newish country sent me into a spiral of depression costing me a good deal of my sanity, but the full moon a few days ago seems to be helping to mellow me out a bit.  I mentioned in the post I made that week (Aliyah-versary) that I haven't really been doing much of anything other than laying around being a useless lump, rationing my diminishing food supply, and doing my best to try and find people to help me get the support I need in the areas I need it.   

the social workers here have mostly been a big fail for me in that arena, and the ones I connected with so far have mostly made me feel unsafe and vulnerable to threats I'm not ready to navigate, so I probably won't be turning to them again any time soon.  I did call a few of the local helplines when I felt I was freaking out and needed to talk, and some of them were a bit helpful, though some of the folks I spoke with seemed to think marrying me off to a religious nut is the answer to all my problems, and I beg to differ.  what I've needed most (this month) has been financial assistance, and help finding a job I can stick with and succeed at in the long term, and I did manage to work some mojo in that direction - I was gifted the miracle of enough cash to pay this month's rent and bills, and also received a grant to enroll in a 'retraining' program to learn a new skill/trade so I can hopefully 'upgrade' my ability to find work here.

in the meantime, I've been focusing on drinking enough water, getting a decent amount of rest, and doing what I can to organize my space a little bit better, which is an ongoing process as I'm still 'unpacking' and sorting my belongings into a workable semblance of organization.  the bookcase I bought is already stuffed full, and there are several books/files that don't even fit on the shelves and are piled on the floor next to the bookshelf.  since my contract (lease) is nearing its end and I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to stay in this apartment much longer, I certainly wasn't going to buy any more furniture or decorate, but it seems I still have some small glimmer of hope because with the help of my cousin, I managed to get the landpeople to renew the contract at the current rent price rather than raising it 200 shekels a month, and at least that buys me one more month of a roof over my head to try and find another job before rent comes due again.  

I feel like the embodiment of 'two steps forward, one step back' this month - as though all the pressure of looming homelessness wasn't enough, Facebook decided to ban me from the platform out of the blue for no reason, so just while I was struggling the hardest with my mental health, I was cut off from the closest thing I have to support from virtual 'friends', not to mention the employment groups and new immigrant support groups I belong to on there.  I also had an item up for sale on Marketplace which would have bought me a week's worth of groceries if I could manage to sell it - and the many many recipes and craft projects I've saved over the years that I lost access to just when I needed them most.  

curiously, being banned from fb gave me a really eye-opening reality check of how deeply I'm immersed in it, and forced me to take a step back and use that time more productively.  sure, I played hours and hours of video games (by which I mean sheshbesh, yatzy, and various word games) and watched WAY too many seasons of an older tv program I liked once upon a time, but I also turned to this blog and managed to catch up on a few posts, delete lots of festering drafts, reconnect with The Sunday Whirl, and discover Six Sentence Stories from GirlieOnTheEdge.  the former didn't feel so welcoming as only one other participant stopped in to leave a comment on my poem (I visited and commented on ALL the other blogs), while the SSS community has been very welcoming, kind, and engaging (that's why they get a link, and TSW doesn't 😉).  I got an email from fb this morning saying I've been reinstated, though I'm in no rush to log back in after my 2 week hiatus.  I know I will soon enough as I still have that aforementioned item to sell on Marketplace, and all those recipes and craft projects to save in a more secure location so I don't lose access to them again at the whim of some stupid bot.

the big win for today was getting myself to the shuk in time to buy the ingredients I was missing for my soup, and a challah plus some dessert for my Shabbat meal tonight.  I'm not usually one for doughnuts, but for whatever reason I woke up this morning just...wanting a chocolate doughnut, and wondering if I'd seen anything resembling that since I've been here.  I didn't find exactly what I was looking for, but I found something close enough.  my timer just went off letting me know my soup is ready, so I'm going to have myself a bowl, then finish what I came here to do;  pull some tarot cards for a community reading!

so - which deck am I feeling today?  let's see...

I'm going to use three different decks for us this time - my very first deck, Tarot of the Witches, because I haven't read in awhile and it just feels right; The Fairie's Oracle, in honor of two dear friends; and my fake Ukranian (Russian?) knockoff of Buckland's Romani Tarot because there happen to be a lot of Russians (Ukranians?) in my building/neighborhood, so why not.  

 

 

 

to begin:  where are we all?  what is happening in our world?  

next:  what do we need?  what can we offer to ourselves and each other?

and finally:  how/where do we find it? 

 

 

 

 

The Fool - ah, the dear young naive darling, forever heading over the edge of that cliff despite his faithful companion's warning.  what an adventure, what folly...a study of opposites with his rash determination to step out into the world, both completely unprepared, and carrying all the tools he needs for his journey.  he's like an uncarved stone waiting for the chisel, open to all experiences, the embodiment of creativity and joy.  he is wholeness and nothingness, as he's ridden this ride eternally and just keeps traveling on through.  is that what we're doing, now?  our level best to live in the moment because we have no idea what's coming next?  just trying to roll with the punches?  shall we toss our pennies to the wind and see what wisdom we gain?  should we listen to those who would hold us back with warnings?  or do we walk on, untroubled and unafraid?

The Guardian at the Gate - this Guardian's duty is to hold the mystical gateway open for those who are ready to pass through to new realms, and close it to those who aren't.  drawing this card indicates we are being welcomed to step into a new awareness, and/or to hold the door open for others who may be ready to join us on the other side.  we are also reminded that each of us must make that choice on our own.  it's such a delicate little thing, yet a deeply important and significant moment for us all.  can we let ourselves open our hearts to both our own changes, and those of others?  we can't pass this way and stay the same; it is suggested that we ask The Guardian for both guidance and protection as we embark.

5 of Pentacles - the ones who have lost everything.  desperate, destitute, and beyond hope.  they are plagued by illness and poverty, and cry out in their pain.  they don't notice the light in the window because they're too caught up in their own plight to see that there is still the tiniest glimmer of hope.  if they seek connection, they will find it.  so how/where do we find it?  most tarot decks illustrate the window as a church, but we can fill in whatever we need for that metaphor, as we aren't all of the same faith.  but that's the bottom line - faith.  if we find it in a building under the guidance of a spiritual leader, or if we find it out in nature under a canopy of trees, sky, and stars, we must seek it out in order to reconnect with what heals and carries us through the dark times.  

if we choose to see our collective consciousness as The Fool about to step off that cliff where The Guardian of the Gate asks us to consider if we're really ready to walk into that awareness, can we turn our mindset from scarcity and fear to hope and connection?  are we truly able to let ourselves love each other that much?  can we love our own selves that much?  what does it take?  for me, it takes small acts like drinking water and resting, making myself soup, and remembering to center myself enough to feel like I can read cards for us.  and finding the right people to reach out to when I need help.  it's all a process that we've been through again and again, and somehow, we will always find ourselves at the beginning, even if we're at the end.

selah ~ 

 

*if you enjoyed this reading and would like to connect with me for a personal reading of your own, reach out to me at Mysteriam Tarot & Dreamwork.  💙💜💙 

my first 'Six Sentence Stories'

found a new game to play - click on the image to check it out!

 the prompt is BRAND

 

"So, what your saying is that we don't have enough money to cover the rent, and you think that driving up to Montreal to gamble at a casino with the money we do have is the best option for getting it?"

She couldn't believe she was sitting in his car heading north, going along with this ludicrous and most likely ill-fated plan as they approached the border to Canada, passed through with their Vermont ID's, and continued on to the outcome she hoped against hope would work out in their favor.

Having only been to Las Vegas that one time, the casino still somehow felt familiar with its low-lights, lack of clocks, and wildly patterned carpet, and she quickly went to sit at the slot machines where she was the most comfortable, as the tables with their high stakes were intimidating and she wasn't that bold a gambler, never having had the kind of money it required to wear one's confidence like a suit.

On the other hand, he went straight to the tables, illustrating one of the key differences in their characters, and probably a good indication that the relationship wasn't bound to last, though that thought (which she had often enough to make her consider breaking up with him at least once a week) always made her think of Philippe Halsman's Jump Book, which seemed to indicate the opposite - that couples who exhibited similar jumps ended up splitting, while those who jumped differently appeared to have stood the test of time.

After an hour of their separate endeavors, he came over to where she was absently watching the virtual wheels spin with eyes that looked to be glazing over and turned her to face his newest idea as it had come to him, and with a contained excitement he began, "I think...instead of this aimless sort of searching for our fortunes on our own, we should team up, pick one game - like craps or roulette - and put the whole pile of what we have left on one bold bet, no regrets."

And so she found herself standing before a long expanse of green, broken by lines and numbers down its center that had no meaning to her, shaking two dice in her right fist muttering, "Come on, Lady Luck, mama needs some brand new shoes..."

 

(I hope I've done this right, and if not, I hope someone pops in to correct me!) 

The Sunday Whirl 742

click the image to go to the site and join in!

  

 haven't done this in a few years, but here goes!  this week's words are:

  

 

untethered cloaks tendrils gods ash renew weaves through holy spark below wonder 

 

tendrils of hair

luminous 

with holy sparks 

woven through ash

untethered 

from below the hoods

of cloaks

which are prisons

meant to erase 

the goddesses  

who renew with wonder 

the indomitable spirit 

of their people 

 

this week's words were a poem all by themselves

 

which brought immediately to my mind

 

these brave women on the front lines of claiming their own freedom

 

Soups Old and New (and some challah!)

written October 26, 2024 ~

not every dish is going to be a success, and that's ok.  I was whining to my friend that I didn't have a whole chicken for my soup this week, and she suggested I use the chicken breast I had instead.  she said she does it all the time and the result is the same...so I tried it.  it wasn't good.  and not only did the soup itself fall flat, I fell asleep before it was cool enough to cover fully and put in the fridge/freezer, so when I woke up this morning, I quickly realized I had left it out on the counter overnight, uncovered, and now I was going to have to pour it down the drain.  quelle horreur!  

 

 

luckily, I had one serving of my last batch of soup left in the freezer, so for breakfast, there was one serving of delicious ancestor-approved chicken broth to dip my challah in...the last of the round loaves I baked for the holiday season (Rosh Hashanah through Simchat Torah).  it was SO good, and I prayed over it, assuring myself it was a magical elixir pouring into my body filled with healing strength and loving goodness.  its power grows exponentially when the homemade challah and the homemade soup and are eaten together - it's a melody of love wrapped in flavor and texture, carried through generations.  I feel cared for while I indulge in them, warm and cozy when I'm done.

 

I had planned to do some major self-care today, as I started a new job this week and need both the rest, and the space to get used to a new schedule.  it's a bit frustrating, as I was hoping to be on a plane to Israel by now, but I guess it's not my time yet.  I've submitted all my documentation and am waiting for an interview.  I was getting ready to sell my car and sign the apartment over to my son, so I wasn't trying all that hard to get a job because I was hoping to be looking for work in a new country.  but as the weeks began to pass with no money coming in, I HAD to take the first job I was offered, and now I not only need my car, I need it to have good winter tires and a tune up.  

while I'm grateful for the additional time to get ready for an overseas move, I wasn't planning on being in the Northeast for the winter, so I need to shift my perspective a bit from my environment prospectively getting warmer to it getting colder, instead.  and there appear to be one or two more of those unexpected obstacles to navigate that you don't see coming and definitely don't need, but it's yet another opportunity to show others what grace looks like as a response to petty manipulations.  we'll see.  I'll get out of here with everything I need when the time comes.

in any case, one of the ways I planned to care for myself is to try a new-to-me recipe which I will share as an offering to you and yours at the close of Jewish Holiday Season, and the beginning of 'spooky season' as the white folks are calling Halloween and Samhain these days.  

two weeks later ~

 

the water was off overnight and most of the day, so I wasn't able to make my weekly soup in time for Shabbat, but I was mostly making it in the service of the new-to-me soup I'm trying this week - Marak Katom, 'orange soup' in Hebrew.  but no worries, it's back on now, and I'm playing catch-up in my kitchen.  it was a weird week - I got fired from my NEW job for responding to the question "what makes you feel unsafe at work" with "my co-workers wearing keffiyehs and shouting to free a place that never existed" which is both problematic and a Whole Can of Conspiracy Worms so I'll save it for another post.  I'm rightfully feeling all kinds of feels, and I called some friends to yell and cry and laugh about it, which was helpful...but I need soup.  hearty, homemade, happy soup.

 

several hours later ~

 

the chicken soup is done and it's amazing.  tomorrow I'll make the orange soup.

the next day ~

 

the Marak Katom is So Good - gonna eat it with grilled cheese sandwiches all week!  the recipe is from Sivan's Kitchen; check her out on Instagram, I love her content (she served hers in a pumpkin)!

recipe:

1 medium butternut squash

3 medium sweet potatoes

4-5 peeled carrots

large red onion

2 whole heads of garlic

7 cups chicken stock

olive oil

salt, pepper

pumpkin seeds and cinnamon for garnish (optional)

 preheat the oven to 400º.  cut the veggies in half (removing squash seeds); drizzle with oil, salt & pepper, and place face down on a parchment covered baking sheet (wrap garlic in foil); roast one hour.  scoop squash innards into soup pot, add carrot & onion, squeeze the garlic into the pot, add the chicken stock, and simmer.  puree until creamy, and it's done!

dive assassin

written December 20, 2020 ~ 

 

"where there's a Will, there's a way"

I spin a fantasy of you

sliding between my ample thighs

with some sighs

maybe some gasps and moans

before the cries

of pleasure

but for you I'd tell 

the truth

how I long for a certain 

kind of growl

in my ear

the first time

all over again

the fear

at the possibility 

of feeling something

how much I'd hold back

because there's too much

to let go

how I could drown in 

my own longing

I could break you with my despair

feed your own need back to you

and spin us both off

into oblivion

weave my spells with 

magic words

shake them out of my hair

slide them through you

with a glance

draw them out with your blood

by the skin of my teeth 

and fingernails

but my bed is cold

and there's no one to hold me

in the night but

the Gods I conjure

who disappear with the light

I could devour you

right now

surrender the hoard!

written on June 14th, 2020 ~

     I prefer movies to television, but since I've been home So Much recently, I've watched a few tv shows here and there to fill in the spaces. and since I'm maturing into such a good-humored old dear, bless my heart, I tend to watch shows I've seen a bit of before, because I know I've enjoyed them for one reason or another, such as Hoarders. I like it because the houses I grew up in boasted a regimented comfort. everything had a place, and everything Stayed in it's place unless you were using it, after which you'd put it away. our things were always neat, clean, and in order. at summer camp, I was the kid who bounced a quarter on my hospital-cornered cot. when I moved out of my parents' house and lived on my own, my rooms and apartments were clean to the point of being camera-ready (a guest once commented that all my place was missing were the velvet ropes...you know, like a museum?). as a new, struggling, single mom, the piece of advice I got from veteran moms the most was to stop cleaning my house. it was hard for me to do, but I managed, and that velvet rope guest commented that they now felt much more at ease in my space. I didn't.  

     as the boy grew, we acquired more things - a crib that converted to a toddler bed, a dresser, a bookshelf, a table & chairs, toys, clothing, a tricycle.  then some of those items got bigger - a bicycle that got traded up for a mountain bike, a twin bed that got upgraded to a full-sized loft, a guitar and amplifier, a computer, a new tv, another chair...for someone who spent years living in my car out of a backpack while traveling the country, it started to be too much.  a few years back, when I helped my mom move out of her house and into an apartment, I ended up bringing a few car-fulls of ancestral belongings home with me:  my grandfather's marble inlaid chess table, some of my grandparents' framed artwork and antiques, kitchen items, and more.  there's wasn't really room for a lot of it, but I tucked them in under tables, around my bed, and into cabinets and closets.  

     when I was surprised by the news that the state was taking over the property I lived on to rebuild a bridge and we had to move again, I was less than enthused (outraged, really).  I brought a portion of my hillock of inherited ancestral detritus to sell at the local flea market, then I had a yard sale.  on moving day, whatever was left had to come with us, since I was too emotionally attached to it to just consign it all to the dumpster.  once we were settled in, I managed to sell a few more items on eBay, but I still have too many things stacked in the hallway and the bedroom to feel good about my space.  anyway...since I had the opportunity to watch a little tv, and I ended up watching Hoarders, I came to the decision that I was done cluttering up my home with these 'overflow' items, and was just going to give them to the various places where one donates their household goods.  

     so I've been taking things out of my space, a few bags at a time, and I'm SO glad I have!  I can't wait to get that hallway cleared, and then the bedroom.  at my age, and where I am in my life, I don't need or want any clutter around me (not that I ever did, really); and even though I purged some things before the move, and I'm working on getting rid of more, I'm still looking to pare down to possibly spartan levels of ownership.  I mean, what does a person really need?  sure, it's nice to be surrounded by lovely things that bring you joy, but all I ever needed to experience that was a tent in the woods.  I'd like to get back there again.  or at least as close as I can while still maintaining some semblance of what our current society considers 'a proper home'.  and I like sleeping on a firm mattress with a warm, soft blanket more than I enjoy sleeping on the ground in my sleeping bag, these days.  

     while there are things I'd like to pass on to my son, none of them are a pile of random inherited ancestral crap, or even the slightest tendency towards hoarding.  to be clear, I'm in no way a hoarder - I'm just a reformed neat-freak who likes for my environment to be clean, and clutter-free.  

 

6 years later, an update ~

    we moved two more times since then, possibly more depending on how you count, and I'm still carrying around 'too many things'.  while I did a lot of work in that apartment, the next place we moved was a tiny furnished place that we knew we were only going to be in for a year, so 95% of our things went into storage for the duration.  when the year was up, we took everything from the storage space and put it into a moving van, drove to another state, and put it all right back into storage as we didn't have a place to live yet.  then I sent the young man off to college, and lived in the car for 5 months until an apartment was finally available.  at first I just moved in with what I had with me in the car, then went and grabbed a few things like my mattress, extra blankets and clothes, toiletries, and kitchen items.  when the kid came home for winter break, we spent most of the month retrieving the rest of it, and I was once again surrounded by boxes.

    it took some time to get it sorted out and put away, and wouldn't you know it?  I ended up with a stack of things I no longer wanted or needed (but was too emotionally attached to to just throw them in the dumpster) that ended up tucked into corners, under tables, and stuffed into closets.  I did make an effort to clear most of those items out during the 2 years that I lived there, but when I decided to make Aliyah, I had to get serious about what I could bring overseas with me, what I couldn't, what my son wanted to keep, and then get rid of the rest.  

    my apartment here in Israel is very small, and though I've been here for a year already, I still have quite a few boxes that I can't unpack because I have nowhere to put the contents, which are mostly chachkis, framed art, and lord knows what else.  and I do miss a lot of the things I left behind, but...that's life, and you can't take it with you when you die, anyway.  so while I do hope to get myself into a situation where I can once again hang my dresses in a closet, keep my undies in a drawer, and display my lovely chachkis, I am still living with stacks of boxes cluttering up my environment.  it's definitely messing with my head, but I do my best and hope for better.  someday.

    I hope my son has managed to clear out whatever I left behind that he wasn't interested in keeping - I'd hate to see him keeping unnecessary things around simply because he's too emotionally attached to them to just throw them in the dumpster.  though I do hope he's held on to a few precious things to give back to me someday, if we ever see each other again.  or just because he loves them, and will remind him of his ancestors after I'm gone.  

so sick of white america

written November 17, 2020 ~

I could have gone to Mavis Discount Tire in Kingston on Saturday for two new tires, but I wanted to wait until Monday to give Walt (my regular mechanic) a chance to do the work, because I prefer to give my money to small local businesses rather than large corporations.  

I could have driven the 30 minutes into Kingston to sit in Mavis' heated waiting area (in a comfortable chair) while they worked on my car instead of having to walk a mile up the road in the cold to the closest country store (and back), where the only place to sit is outside, since their small dining area is closed due to the pandemic.  

I could have paid Mavis $150 to do the work instead of the $200 Walt charged me, because they can afford to drop their prices (several times) in order to appease me because I'm poor, and tires are expensive.  

I could have made an appointment with Mavis so I knew how long the work would take, and therefore have a window within which to schedule my day, but I chose to drop my car off with Walt at 9:30am, who still didn't have the work done by 11:30am after I had walked the mile to the country store, drank a cup of hot chocolate, walked around and looked at all the items for sale to kill time before walking over to the Dollar General to do the same, then walking the mile back to Walt's where all he'd managed to do was get my car up on the lift.  

if I'd gone to Mavis, the work would have been done in less than the two hours it took Walt to get my car up on the lift, after which I still had to stand around outside for at least 30 more minutes before he finally offered for me to sit in his office and read his newspaper while he and his buddies loudly spouted their pro-fascist political agendas and blamed 'those Jews' in the government for 'stealing' the election for Biden citing the "damn kids who have never worked a day in their lives and think they're so smart to have made up that mail-in voting thing" in order to overthrow their naked emperor.  

if I had gone to Mavis, I wouldn't have had to storm back out into the cold to avoid having to hear any more of it.  

when Walt presented me with bill, I looked him dead in the eye when I told him I would be paying it with my hard-working Jewish 16 year old's card, because I've been out of work for months due to his naked emperor's poor pandemic response that now has us in a third wave of hospitalizations and deaths (I was the only one in or around the shop wearing a mask, including the cop who stopped in), and that he might want to check to make sure there wasn't a Jew sitting in his office the next time he chose to spew his racist hatred.  

if I had gone to Mavis, I wouldn't now be sitting here regretting every single dollar I ever paid Walt, which is a considerable amount given the number of years I've been patronizing him, and wondering if I should simply have asked him to remove the tires, refund our money, and get Mavis to do the work (again) after all.  

would it have bothered me as much if I didn't just email my son's English teacher yesterday to address his use of the word "gyp" in a story he was telling the class?  or the woman in the fitness group who deleted me when I told her that her 'joke' about threatening to sell her children to the 'Gypsies' when they didn't do what she said wasn't in any way funny to someone like myself, whose own father was kidnapped from his Romani mother (Romani people don't steal children - in Europe, they often have their own children stolen from them by various government agencies for little to no reason other than being Roma)?  yes...yes it would.  

even as a provisional white person (acceptable to whites until they find out I'm a Romani Jew), it's a rare day that passes without some form of attack on my ethnicity/tribal affiliation/historic homeland (I think of myself more as a cultural Israeli/genetic member of the tribe of Judah than as a religious Jew).  when will this madness end?