Friday Dispatch: Just Like Cynthia Said

Making my peace with more pieces

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“Arrange whatever pieces come your way.” ~ Virginia Woolf

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Friday greetings,

Yesterday I had the privilege of being one of four presenters at a workshop through the Rabbinical Assembly. The workshop title was “Skills for Sustaining Your Rabbinate,” and my 15-minute presentation offered an introduction to writing “11s” as a grounding, spiritual, and/or generative practice.

I also enjoyed the other presentations, one of which focused on decluttering books. Something that stuck with me is that our books can “should” us in a variety of ways, and that one of these is that they can almost taunt us with a “fantasy self.” The wonderful example the presenter offered was that there are people who buy crafts books, and there are people who do crafts.

This got me thinking about some of my fantasy selves. It also feels related somehow to something I spoke about during my brief introduction: I mentioned that I wear many hats, much as I suspect every one rabbi on that call does, and much as I suspect every last one of us does, including you. I included some of these, which I’ll share here, too. Of course, each one contains whole universes, stories, histories, memories, fears, hopes, dreams, commitments, delights, and challenges.

• Writer

• Coach and Promptress

• Poet-in-Residence, B’nai Mitzvah Coordinator, and Board member at the Jewish Community of Amherst

• Jewish Student Project Creative Facilitation Fellow

• Mother of two

• Stepmother of three

• Wife

• Sister

• Daughter

• Dog mom

• Artist (new for me to include this one)

• Duolingo enthusiast 

• Runner, meditator & yogi (sometimes)

Later, I thought about the expression itself – wearing many hats – and what a cliché it is. Likewise, containing multitudes a la Walt Whitman has also become something of a cliché.

They are clichés for a reason. None of these are fantasy selves; these are the roles that fill my days and nights, take up much of my consciousness, bring my life meaning and purpose, and, sometimes, leave me wondering how on earth I will keep it all going. (My best answer, in case you’re wondering? ONE THING AT A TIME.)

But just as we might have books that reflect aspirations or dreams that we don’t always bring into being, we might also hold onto other ideas about life getting simpler over time.

This reminds me of a story my mom shared with me a long time ago. A friend of hers was in her last days, and my mom visited her in the hospital. At one point, my mom asked, "Cynthia, when do all the pieces come together?” Her friend looked into her eyes and replied, “Peggy, they don’t. There are just more pieces.”

I used to find this story kind of bleak, to be honest. Like, oy, really?

But it doesn’t seem bleak anymore.

The trend of life continuing to have so many pieces shows no likelihood of changing; if anything, the pieces continue to proliferate, and there’s a way in which this is such a blessing. Now when I reflect on their conversation, I appreciate the honesty and wisdom in it.

As you probably know by now, one of my “fantasy selves” has been that of rabbi. Well, this week, I enrolled in an intensive Hebrew course that begins at the end of the month and runs until Passover, at which time I will take a Hebrew placement exam and see what happens. It is a concrete step towards the possibility of applying to a part-time, virtual rabbinical school pathway that would begin in a year. Gulp!

I have done this dance many times, and it’s historically been exactly now that I pull back. What the hell am I thinking? I stall, make excuses, enumerate obstacles, change my mind, and retreat. In a word, I get scared. My insecurities and doubts come clamoring to take over the mic.

This time, I am trying something different: Letting clarity lead.

What if having a full hat rack isn’t a problem? After all, we’re not here to force our multitudes into submission, or to forge our pieces into a false fantasy self or fantasy life – as if that were even possible.

We’re here, at least in part, to find some peace with the fact that the pieces don’t necessarily ever “come together” in some neat, pleasing picture.

Just like Cynthia said.

If you find that you are trying to cram pieces of your life into compliance or cast others out entirely, what would happen if, just for today, you let them all coexist?

What if you could stand in the knowing that your multitudes might never all make sense, and that you get to live in the glorious if sometimes terrifying “and” of your big, unexpected, inimitable life?

Do you have books that represent fantasy selves, or a lifelong dream that just won’t quit you?

I’d love to hear.

Shabbat Shalom and love,

Jena

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