Letting Go of a Dream
A bittersweet 11s
That's what I'm workin' on
A song to fix what's wrong
Take what's broken, make it whole
A song so beautiful
It brings the world back into tune
Back into time
And all the flowers will bloom
1. We saw Hadestown on Broadway last weekend with Aviva. I can’t stop thinking about it and listening to the soundtrack. Anais Mitchell wrote it as a concept album in 2010 when she was 29. Now I am listening to that, and I am so blown away and cracked open by it in a way I haven’t been by a piece of music in years.
2. As political commentary, love story, creative brilliance – all of that.
3. I withdrew from rabbinical school yesterday. I am feeling very contemplative and bittersweet about it. Playing in the city this weekend with M.J. and Aviva, riding the train, really feeling into how deeply I long for less pressure and responsibility, not more, all of this gave rise to some deep reflection and existential meditation on what I am doing.
4. On the train, I wrote some pages in my journal. Less pros and cons, more of a free association list of things. I have two worlds inside of me. There is the rabbi and the lady of leisure, the intense student who cracks the books and disappears into the world of study and learning, and the intuitive creative who wants to be a housewife and spend the summer in a hammock reading novels, responding to ideas as they arise, not pushing. This has been true as long as I can remember.
5. Being at war with myself is a familiar experience. I’ve made truces in the past, even some good and lasting ones. It’s time again, it’s time.
6. Change does not equal shame. I am allowed to change my mind.
7. Fear of people being disappointed in me or thinking I took the easy way out or didn’t try hard enough, or acted in ways that were inconsistent or (God forbid) flaky. In other words, self-judgment disguised as fear of other people’s judgment. An opportunity for self-compassion and grace.
8. My Human School curriculum: trusting that there can be many ways to fulfill a calling, and that my worth doesn’t hinge on my role(s). The path is still the path.
9. It’s like I changed into my swimsuit and put my things in a locker and walked out to the pool and climbed up to the high dive and stood there on the tip of the board peering down into the water. Was I scared to dive? Or did I realize I didn’t have to prove that I could? I could turn around and walk it back. I could be enough.
10. Oh, this liminal space. What was is no more. What is to come is not yet. I want to put the “pause” in perimenopause and see what that pause could yield.
11. Maybe it will show me that I already have everything I need. Maybe it will lead me to see what so many have told me, but I haven’t heard or seen or felt in the way I only would when I arrived at it myself, that I am already doing holy work. That it already counts. That I can keep learning and deepening and being of service without going into massive debt and having the title. I feel wistful about not becoming one of the rabbis. I am also relieved that I could go to a swimming hole or take the train to the city or sit and write or spend time with my mom or slack off whenever I feel like, and let M.J. step into the breadwinner role and not have to embark immediately on a Big Next Thing. I long for simpler, not more striving.
Photo by Aviva Lou Strong – l'dor v'dor
I love Israel and the Jewish people with my whole heart. I fully intend to continue to serve the world to the best of my abilities as a writer, coach, creative facilitator, lay leader, and community member. For now, I’m giving myself a moment to integrate this decision, with the gentleness I know I would offer anyone else when they let go of a dream. Thank you for your kindness and support.
You are brave Jenna. I too even at the age of 77 still toy with rabbinical school. But when I finished the davenning leadership training program—dlti— I realized what I realized I really wanted was to lead services, and I didn’t have to be a rabbi to do that. I often still yearn for more learning, and the title, but I too want the time to draw and be with my children and friends and, and.. who knows, you may chef your mind in five years or ten, but meanwhile it was certainly not a waste of time!
Who am I to comment on someone else's life decision. I can only offer support.