How We’ll Get Through

Rested, sharp, fierce & deep

The couch on Saturday afternoon, the sun streaming in the living room windows, spilling onto the cushions, the blanket, my body warmed and heavy.

The bath on Sunday afternoon, hot water clear and just short of scalding, during the window when I said I was going to “tackle my desk.” Ha.

The bed after the bath after the couch, where I curled up, skin still warm from the water just short of scalding, next to my person.

The wetlands on Monday afternoon, Chalupa like a tiny trail boss bravely leading us into the unknown, her own modern canine version of lekh lekha.

The criss-cross-apple-sauce of conversations, emails, texts, WhatsApp message check-ins, we-will-get-through-this-togethers.

My personal cheering squad, the women I met in Jerusalem last summer, two of whom became rabbis in their 40s. One called me this weekend just to connect, the other has promised to be so loud when I graduate that she may need bail.

Feeling into the space inside the constriction, the feelings inside the dysregulation, the intention to recenter, the patience this requires, the gentleness, the grace.

Listening to Ishay Ribo on loop.

A list my friend Tasha shared, written in 2017 by Masha Gessen:

Autocracy: Rules for Survival

Rule No. 1: Believe the autocrat.
Rule No. 2: Do not be taken in by small signs of normality.
Rule No. 3: Institutions will not save you.
Rule No. 4: Be outraged.
Rule No. 5: Don’t make compromises.
Rule No. 6: Remember the future.

And if I may add,

Rule No. 7: Love extra hard.

I like Tasha’s addition.

(I would like to add: Make sure you have a cheering squad.)

What kind of rabbi will I be? Like the unknown future that looms before us, this question is too unformed to answer. But what kind of me will I be today? That is here, now, within my control.

Friends, the world needs our authenticity, our love, our rested bodies, our sharp minds, our fierce encouragement, and our deep devotion.

These they cannot take from us.

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