tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-188920122012-02-11T11:45:18.425-08:00This blog is a collection of sometimes poetic, sometimes rambling and always from the heart reflections on living, dying, and being human.nehamashiranoreply@blogger.comBlogger2371100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-31699050812523408622012-02-11T11:40:00.000-08:002012-02-11T11:42:32.329-08:00

Most people have experienced the feeling of being surrounded by others, yet having no connection whatsoever with the people in the room. And this isolation does not stem from a lack of wanting to belong. It just is what it is. Somehow there is a failure to break through the social barrier linking oneself to the individual that one desires to make conversation with. I have sat on the fringe for

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-4610042948621094662012-01-09T15:47:00.000-08:002012-01-09T16:35:39.313-08:00

It started with five simple words "I will be following her". Words spoken by my son, in reference to his ex-wife. Not following to woo, but rather to ensure that he would be guaranteed access to his son. Despite the logic and complete reasonableness of his line of thought, I was plunged into a black and icy pit of visceral despair. I felt myself pulling inward, and fought to maintain a modicum of

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-83616764098879619892012-01-01T21:46:00.000-08:002012-01-01T22:32:17.912-08:00

Here it comes. 2012. The year that cataclysmic changes are supposed to come hurtling towards our insignificant little cosmic dust speck of a planet. The feeding frenzy begins, with fear driving the appetites of all those dining at the table of Globalized Media. Pass the bucket- I may vomit before I begin. The eternal cynic taps impatiently at the fringe of my awakening consciousness. Refusing to

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-54593406084921472802011-09-20T09:03:00.000-07:002011-10-09T02:02:33.011-07:00

Every now and then, I find myself in the position of being asked "how did you manage such and such a situation" (likely because of my very advanced age- she says with tongue firmly planted in cheek). It is assumed that I have wisdom leaking out of my pores. Indeed, such is not the case. I have learned my lessons like many others- through kind hands and bitter experience. In the arena of

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-79077156919262531032011-05-03T21:28:00.000-07:002011-05-03T21:47:04.168-07:00

I find myself in a bit of a dilemma. Being the sort of person that rarely discloses what is truly on my mind or heart, I find that I do a lot of people watching and assessing of situations from a safe distance before I take the plunge. Perhaps this is because I have had a lifetime of experience with painful encounters, and at this juncture in time, am not willing to run headlong into more of the

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-71021189548233559902011-04-06T12:22:00.000-07:002011-04-06T17:21:18.993-07:00

I thought that I had finished with my bout of seasonal ickyness last month. Apparently not. It is unusual for me to be hit with so many viruses. I wound up in hospital with a Norwalk-like bug, and now I have a flaming sore throat and can't swallow much. Bad timing, as there is a gala concert coming up this Sunday, and I have some solo parts that won't sound too dazzling in the 'basso-profundo'

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-33435683709724511732011-04-06T12:19:00.001-07:002011-04-06T12:19:41.881-07:00

Tweet Here's a new way to post Twitter links.

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-32562348300055286882011-03-09T02:17:00.000-08:002011-03-09T02:54:50.070-08:00

So I am feeling less flattened by the microscopic beasties that have so recently (and inconveniently) taken up residence in my sinuses. My poor son, daughter-in-love, and granddaughter are all down with influenza, and so after our choir rehearsal(s) tonight, my Viking husband and I went with our offerings of Jewish penicillin (I am a Jewish mother after all..and make a damn good chicken soup).

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-12106564761579579552011-03-05T16:30:00.000-08:002011-03-05T16:36:44.393-08:00

Today I am sick. I get to whine. Maybe eat a little cheese with it. My throat is scratchy, and I feel like I have been flattened by a succession of happy sumo wrestlers. Bed beckons, and in a dimetap-induced alternate state I sit here and write drivel. I am allowed to be pathetic- it is so rare that I ever come down with any seasonal bug. The sun has been shining- as if to mock me, daring me to

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-77889846903997565922011-03-04T22:14:00.000-08:002011-03-04T22:45:41.808-08:00

Jiminy Cricket chirps "when you wish upon a star, your dreams come true". Childhood believes him. Adulthood curses the falseness of a Disney-world; of a world where the saccharin promise of 'you too can get up and sing' is choked by the vinegar of adjudicators that pass over those deemed too mediocre to exist, all the while fawning upon the beautiful children. Upon the blue-eyed, politically

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-50507671234704110682011-01-06T00:59:00.000-08:002011-01-06T01:15:31.878-08:00

Sometimes I wonder why all posts must of necessity be written after the midnight hour. Alas, tis my lot in life to be a night owl. Sitting up late and ruminating on deep and profound thoughts, the state of the world, my newest knitting project, and the well being of my family occupy much of these wakeful hours. I suppose that I could pray, but, in reality the very act of writing is prayer. Does

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-47946936845835585302010-08-17T13:43:00.000-07:002010-08-17T13:49:01.142-07:00

I relish the challenge of a new course. This one- should I be able to successfully register 'on-line'- is entitled "Introduction to Academic Writing and Critical Thinking- APA section". I am looking forward to discovering if I have been 'doing it right', having already earned a MSc, and am also eager to sit under the tutelage of my dear friend Alicia. It will be a breath of fresh air.

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-88518332140313556002010-07-10T16:32:00.000-07:002010-07-10T16:40:21.271-07:00

Despite the fact that the last published date is January of this year, I really and truly have been writing. The scores of 'drafts' attest to the fact. But for reasons undisclosed, those entries shall remain 'drafts' until such time as they may be safely published (or deleted). I think that journaling is good for the soul. However, bitter experience has taught me that electronic diaries can be '

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-81909470275818770682010-03-27T02:01:00.000-07:002010-08-24T17:20:30.811-07:00

Just an observation. It seems to me that parenting has become a lot more upscale and professional these days. Shortly after birth one's child is summarily placed onto a wait list for the most competitive of daycares staffed by ECE-qualified caregivers who- for a respectable fee, will assume the more custodial aspects of child raising, during those hours of the day when children are most awake

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-83864599066374515722010-02-25T02:45:00.000-08:002010-02-25T02:45:16.197-08:00

Pilar Rahola, another great heroine

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-4417297796833734542010-01-04T03:35:00.000-08:002010-01-04T14:37:58.221-08:00

Can I by resolving a thing, actually make it so? I resolve to get into better shape, but at the same time, I need to get off of my duff and walk, swim, and garden my way to fitness. I resolve to be a kinder and more forgiving person, but the situations that cross my path, demanding that same kindness and forgiveness, will not be pretty ones. Nothing worth striving for is achieved without

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-63948366389603568322009-12-14T07:14:00.001-08:002009-12-18T18:30:55.916-08:00

I suppose that this is the season for re-examining old wounds in the light of forgiveness. It has been a year now, well over a year since Mira left. I find my heart softening, and searching for ways to reconnect with her. At least from my end of things. Let there be no stone left unturned. Time is working its natural way of healing, and I am loath to cling to any self-indulgent thoughts of '

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-2911922841630068622009-11-23T05:40:00.000-08:002009-11-23T06:04:25.681-08:00

OK, I know that too much sleep deprivation can lead to things like psychotic episodes, spelling mistakes, and an increase in gerbil-like freneticism. That being said..it is still hard to let go of those pervasive thoughts- you know the ones- that come barging through consciousness like unwelcome relatives. I wake up with Joshua on my mind, with Matthew, with Mira, and sit here awake attempting to

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-85383262879073198412009-11-20T01:47:00.000-08:002009-11-20T02:12:39.407-08:00

I have not been sleeping well these days. My thoughts are often taken up with the burdens of assuaging the pains of the dying. I wonder at times what my own death will be like. Is there really a world to come, and will I merit it? I recently tended a young (around 50-ish) woman who was dying of cancer, and during her care she asked me to hold her hand. I held her hand, assuring her that it was,

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-70125414867227565582009-11-08T01:48:00.000-08:002009-11-08T02:00:22.398-08:00

In a perfect world, I would be able to communicate without fear. Transparency would be as easy as inhaling and exhaling, and the concept of 'naked and not ashamed' would apply spiritually, emotionally, and physically. Children are this way naturally- and if they are not so, it is usually due to unnatural circumstances. Honesty would be a virtue that all would aspire to. In a perfect world, I

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-65937250043965609912009-08-25T01:49:00.000-07:002009-08-25T01:57:17.568-07:00

Remember the mouse traps? Oh how we have grown! My beloved is now expanding his skill at trapping mammalian predators, and has ventured out into racoon land. Now instead of waking up at 4 am to slam-dunk the lasagna pan on innocent mice, he is laying in wait of the small, masked relatives of the bear family- using an old bunny cage and cat-food as bait. We love our chickens, and by definition,

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-35810218417655454502009-08-19T02:37:00.001-07:002009-08-19T03:09:46.268-07:00

Am I softening somewhat? Or is the burden of carrying my son's sorrow becoming just a bit too difficult to handle? I don't want to hate anyone, least of all the mother of my grandson. But I am having significant trust issues. Or to put it more bluntly- I don't trust a thing that I see in my older son's wife or her family. I live in the outer galaxies of a universe that has been carefully and

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-69145040530954987152009-06-22T09:42:00.001-07:002009-06-22T09:48:03.337-07:00

Yesterday was my son's first Father's day. He was unable to spend it with his son, probably due to it being "inconvenient" to his wife, or sort-of-wife. I find it difficult to conceive of this mockery of marriage as being in reality something that Joshua would eventually aspire to. Matthew is not allowed to be a father in the fullest sense of the word. Nor is he really fighting for that right. It

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-14479515859223539282009-06-10T01:24:00.000-07:002009-06-10T02:15:47.044-07:00

I read an awful lot these days. Books about family, about communication, emails from certain relatives that serve to highlight my woeful inability to communication effectively, and their responses to my feeble and lamentable attempts to desperately reach out despite my wretched imperfection. If I would only see a counsellor (which I am doing already)...if only I would do or say something

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-48292188462981210632009-03-13T22:38:00.000-07:002009-03-13T22:47:21.274-07:00

My younger son is taking a bride. And such a bride is she- beautiful in body and spirit, with a quick laugh and a warm, generous smile. I find her easy to love, for she has accepted us so fully, without judgement. Sometimes I feel ashamed that love should come so easily. Isn't virtue supposed to be difficult to achieve? I rejoice to see my son so happy. His face radiates in her presence. This is

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-90978249303840674972009-02-11T07:34:00.000-08:002009-02-11T07:56:47.300-08:00

Long forgotten are days of rejoicing. Like David of old, I sit in ashes and ponder, searching my soul for sins unconfessed, and finding too many, lie back weary of repentance. It has been too long. The sleepless nights tumble into each other like drunken men, leaving me dizzy with exhaustion. My eyes are a desert, having wept too many tears. There is no comfort, no succor for this heart now

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-45969061106408392212008-12-28T10:34:00.000-08:002008-12-31T04:07:55.378-08:00

I have been in this place before. I am 3 years old, and my mother is telling my weeping older sister "I am leaving and I am never coming back". I lean against the large double bed, and look downward, not wanting to be in this room. Not wanting to be present in the midst of such raw and violent emotion. Mostly, just wanting to get away from this woman that I feared. The rest of that period blurs,

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-82218573170904299392008-12-27T09:26:00.000-08:002008-12-31T04:10:13.319-08:00

It is strange to think that something I write in a personal 'blog-journal' should be wide open for all the world to see. Thanks to my local techno-genius, such oversight has been rectified, and I can now spill forth the contents of my wretched soul with safety and abandonment. Not that I really care two hoots about who might or might not be offended by my honesty. Such liberation only comes from

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-28908037181987443252008-12-27T07:55:00.000-08:002008-12-31T03:56:46.258-08:00

Is it a sin to express oneself honestly? It seems that it is these days. For only the experience of a select few individuals is deemed worthy of validity, while the reality of others is called "lies". Somewhere, in the field between two warring realities is the truth. How can trust and relationship be built upon outward appearances, empty words, and broken promises? It takes more than "you are

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-18532558077151494482008-12-08T01:46:00.000-08:002008-12-08T01:53:29.330-08:00

Ah the joys of a religiously pluralistic family. I do think that God loves variety and that every time we try to mandate the ways in which we choose to celebrate his greatness (oh all right....her greatness...to be disgustingly PC), we tend to erode the mystery, the possibility, that underneath all of the pagentry, we are loving the same Person. So let us pull out every vestige of joy...the

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-80764071876330482012008-12-08T00:44:00.000-08:002008-12-08T01:36:31.445-08:00

I have to confess that when I was first married, I had a closet full of expectations for my new family. I hoped beyond hope that they would be for me the family that I had never experienced during my tumultuous growing up years. I had hoped that I would find the acceptance that I had strived for so long, and had failed to realize, with my own father. I wanted to be loved by my mother-in-law in

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-50854739077836475302008-10-19T16:24:00.000-07:002008-10-25T01:48:07.471-07:00

Being alone is not such a bad thing. My grandmother used to tell me that I could be understood by only two entities- God, and my own inner self. We come into this world alone, unless we are twinned, and we die alone (unless we go in a plane crash). The myth of the cosy intimate family is just that- a myth. The closest I have ever gotten to it, with the important exception of my beloved husband

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-55618887028516006302008-10-01T07:10:00.000-07:002008-10-01T08:08:48.958-07:00

Rosh Hashana, 5769. The shofar's haunting cry, a shuddering, piercing blast as unique and visceral as the Gaelic war pipes. It reaches into my stomach and squeezes hard, bowling me over. Why this profound physical response? Israel stands on the brink of war while the rest of the world stands indifferent at best, hostile to her survival at worst. There is no one in my family that I can talk to

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-76016120012165103452008-09-27T01:02:00.000-07:002008-10-25T01:48:26.606-07:00

I don't like going to parties. Never really have. Sometimes it is just easier being an anonymous and lonely traveller on the road of life..sitting in front of my computer ... reading my cyberstory as I wish it could be written. The actual face-to-face encounters are always more unsettling than the script, leaving me insecure, uncertain of who I am supposed to be in time and space. Nowhere is this

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-29072860052937531262008-09-08T01:03:00.000-07:002008-09-08T01:21:43.556-07:00

The other day I took a walk downtown- perhaps to run some errands, I am not sure I remember the purpose of the excursion. I was listening to early music through a discman, fully transported by the voices, the harmonies, the inspiring librettos. As I was walking along Quadra St, I watched as two men screamed at each other, both locked in an immovable altercation over some territorial issue. At

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-84785277305916876842008-08-22T08:56:00.000-07:002008-08-22T09:15:42.710-07:00

I have to confess that I think a lot about death and dying- I can't help it. It comes with the territory. As a hospice nurse I am faced with the dying process every time I step off of the elevator into a 12 hour shift. I catch myself wondering what my own death will be like. Will I quietly step into that good night, or will I 'rage against the dying of the light'? Will I lose every scrap of

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-82581254671435717502008-08-10T23:43:00.000-07:002008-08-11T00:04:19.914-07:00

I'll put it down honestly. I am tired of this body- of the constant, driving, gnawing pain, pounding as the surf, and unrelenting in its erosion of my spirit. My soul feels as worn and tossed aside as one of the smooth rocks I recently gathered from Sombrio beach. In my waking hours, it is an ongoing challenge to find things that will distract me from the prison that is my body. Pain is a cruel

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-71958580569060376712008-08-06T23:41:00.000-07:002008-08-08T13:03:02.359-07:00

It is my understanding that dialogue is rather like a dance- one step forward, two steps back, three to the side. I find however, that there are others who appear to see dialogue in a somewhat linear fashion- and to me, that is not dialogue, but monologue. Perhaps monologue is not quite the right descriptive. Mono-hearing or mono-listening might be a more accurate way of putting it, for some

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-19769164678346099682008-08-05T11:40:00.000-07:002008-08-05T11:56:08.470-07:00

I went to a play at the Belfrey last night- written by a Canadian, superbly cast, and killingly funny at times. There were forays into politically incorrect topics, and the audience was taken through the entire gamut of emotion- from tears to laughter. I went with a friend- it was "ladies night out". This friend is becoming increasingly dear to me- she allows me into her heart, and creates a safe

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-54797763674843974412008-08-04T11:53:00.000-07:002008-08-04T12:09:01.930-07:00

We have all been there at one time or another. It is a place of grief, left unarticulated out of a primal fear of rejection. Like a crashing and pounding surf, unrelenting, unforgiving in its punishing waves, the fear creeps in and makes its way into the subterranean levels of the heart. And it remains hidden in darkness. Where do I begin? How can I even start to pour this grief into the

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-24524404172620859362008-07-04T18:40:00.000-07:002008-07-05T01:41:45.864-07:00

Driving down the highway with a can of the 'real thing' Coca Cola in one hand, and CBC radio spilling and weaving musical spells in my ears- I pause, having rapidly consumed the contents of the can, and allow a substantial balloon of carbon dioxide to escape through my vocal cords with one loud, satisfying belch. It is a small thing to be sure, seconded only by the knowledge that I will be

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-58111928915527102282008-05-20T00:25:00.000-07:002008-05-20T00:27:09.944-07:00

DownloadKilts & Tartan free e-book Recommended: Free Kilts & Tartan e-book "Buying your Kilt - Made Easy" An Expert Insider's Frank Views and Simple Tips by Dr Nicholas J Fiddes (Governor, Scottish Tartans Authority) Why you should wear a kilt, and what kind of kilt to get How to source true quality, and avoid the swindlers Find your own tartans, and get the best materials Know the outfit

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-35885199488640964342008-05-18T06:36:00.000-07:002008-05-18T07:40:28.966-07:00

I am beginning to wonder if there really is such a thing as 'unconditional love', and if so, what it is like? I can always aspire to the ideal myself, but do not have the trust that it is there waiting for me around the next corner. The niggling doubt remains that love is there for me as long as I measure up to some standard, whose parameters change for each person involved. For person A, I will

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-5976529776911720782008-05-03T09:14:00.001-07:002008-05-03T13:51:53.473-07:00

I am witnessing once again that which I most greatly fear. In this case, it arises not in my own life and relationships, but is being mutely and helplessly observed in the professional arena that is my work with the dying. This one hits home because the one dying happens to be my age...and much too young to be leaving this earth. I watch her estranged sister, desperately attempt to make

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-25745974862645031582008-04-27T17:39:00.000-07:002008-04-27T18:44:16.616-07:00

I have almost forgotten how to write. Or otherwise communicate in an honest, authentic, and articulate fashion. Wait a minute, this is not entirely true. Rather, let's just say that I am having great difficulty believing that I can do all of the above in such a way that I will be heard from the heart, and not trivialized, abandoned, or raged at in response. You see, I have this fear. Call it the

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-69156187685945583332008-02-29T07:54:00.000-08:002008-02-29T08:04:11.426-08:00

There are some rare individuals who possess that quality of intuition, and that gift of careful articulation, and by so possessing are able to take and lift their co-sojourners from a place of despair to one of hope and courage. One hug, one look, so well administered, will impart such life, such strength, that the obstacles that one might face seem to shrink to a much more 'do-able' size. We

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-83252904814334917912008-02-27T09:11:00.000-08:002008-02-29T07:50:28.747-08:00

If there is one character, apart from Linus, that I can strongly empathize with, it is Charles Schultz's "Charlie Brown". Looking at my profile on Facebook- that great arbitor of human relationships, I see that I have sent out 20 hearts, and received one. I am reminded of so many childhood Valentine's days past, where time was given in class in which to distribute Valentines to one's school chums

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-66691316874879904872008-02-24T09:41:00.000-08:002008-02-24T17:10:42.777-08:00

I dream of a microcosmic world in which I can be completely myself- accepted in an uncensored format. But such a world does not exist, and so I chip away at my ugliness, endeavoring to present a pleasant persona to those whose approval I so cravenly desire- namely my family and friends. I don't think that I have ever felt truly comfortable amongst my siblings, and even less so around my parents

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-66934509342952772872008-02-22T09:04:00.000-08:002008-02-22T23:34:03.762-08:00

Now that I am free, I can look reflectively at the history that has brought me to this place, and search for the threads that have bound together a story of false dreams, of fool's gold hope, of ever eluding belonging and a vanishing bosom of a mythical family and community. I search for understanding so that I may somehow stop this cycle of striving for excellence in order to be loved, only to

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-90589012701198334742008-02-22T08:39:00.000-08:002008-02-22T09:03:14.349-08:00

"Hope deferred maketh the heart sick." I grow weary of having dreams...only to have them cruelly dashed by the guardians of status quo. It seems that most of the deep down, heartfelt and visceral aspirations that I have ever dared to strive for have been snatched away from me just at the point that I believed I might see them come true. Kind of makes me afraid to ever dream again. Is there a

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-85788538789666890162008-02-16T07:12:00.000-08:002008-02-16T07:59:11.708-08:00

I have difficulty with the gatekeepers of the monotheistic traditions. I, for one, am a willing pilgrim, in search of an authentic relationship with the Almighty that can be translated into a deep and abiding bond with those created in His image. Damn the labels. Labels are the fences designed to keep others out, and by definition, make the relationship with G-d a monopoly, a right contingent

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-31770443334038367652008-01-26T09:25:00.000-08:002008-01-26T09:37:27.271-08:00

I wonder if I even spelled the word correctly. Perserverence. Or is it perserverance? Regardless, it is a virtue both learned and gained. In reflecting over the past two decades, I see how little I have known of this trait- comparatively speaking. I have learned much of it by watching my students. I have also learned that fear and self-doubt are the great destroyers of the will to perserver. I

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-17884903314514937122007-12-31T17:13:00.000-08:002008-01-02T04:36:36.155-08:00

It is once again New Year's Eve. Having comfortably planted my dear elderly aunt into the rich virtual soil that is Facebook, I now sit back awaiting her confirmation that I am, indeed, a cyber pal. Picking and choosing which applications to include on her profile was a challenge. I was overwhelmed with the choices bombarding me on all sides. Scrabulous was a safe download. So was 'funwall'. And

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-68793917964976689722007-12-17T00:49:00.000-08:002008-01-26T09:38:55.687-08:00

Disappointment is one of the most painful experiences that I know of. And I think that I have had my share of painful experiences in this life. Disappointment robs the soul of hope, sucking away any desire to strive for one's dreams. What is the source of disappointment? I believe that one very foundational source lies in the expectations that we are taught of life- things that we believe about

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-79029007160070001772007-12-10T01:04:00.000-08:002007-12-10T01:15:47.447-08:00

I remember reading a letter published by a certain popular advice columnist several years ago. The subject of the letter was snoring. The writer was at (her) wit's end, having spent night after sleepless night next to (whether in the same bed or in the general vicinity of) one afflicted with the said condition. Not a pretty picture. The response of the columnist was to trivialize the situation,

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-80392072562021271102007-11-13T01:37:00.000-08:002007-11-14T02:21:53.966-08:00

I am wondering if one of the signs of getting older is an inordinate craving for fruitcake. November rolls around, my birthday now past, the signal to nest away for the coming winter wells up, and I find myself scrounging for currants, raisins, dates, other fruits, and a jar big enough to hold them as they receive their baptism of hard spirits. Being an acquired taste for many, the revered and

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-16215009875050554712007-11-09T17:55:00.000-08:002007-11-12T16:17:38.116-08:00

It has been two years since I began my cyber diary. Two years of mullings and musings, profundities, and perplexities. I have laid bare my soul, stripped of everything except the honest questioning and holy arguments that have wrapped me fully and engaged me in ragged pursuit of uneasy truth. And Truth does not allow itself to be found so readily. It is as if the pursuit means more than the

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-21968062048474081702007-10-18T09:32:00.000-07:002007-10-18T09:54:11.961-07:00

It seems like forever since I wrote last- at least in this little corner of my world. Facebook has swallowed up my creative time, and to what avail? One consolation is that I am a bit freer to express myself here than on that burgeoning social network. Blogs seem far less voyeuristic, and might I say "safer"? Perhaps just another flight of fancy. At any rate, so much has happened in my life that

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-8853379363321104102007-09-08T23:53:00.000-07:002008-01-28T13:38:46.751-08:00

In this day and age of bubble-wrapped emotions and coddled egos, I am a voice crying in the wilderness in defence of the 'school of hard knocks'. To shelter people from the consequences of their own poor life choices does not do them any favors, and in fact may be an indirect put down to the quality and strength of their character. Underpinning the act of rescuing is an assumption that the '

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-25869633682048388622007-08-30T12:21:00.000-07:002007-08-30T13:05:03.441-07:00

From the moment we are born, we are faced with loss. We grow from day to day, learning to make sense of the losses that we encounter, and we become strengthened or embittered as a result of how we engage our sorrow and grief. The way we respond to loss depends largely upon our view of ourselves, and on the quality and nature of the support we receive from others. I am in a position where I

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-32450484367279451552007-08-21T06:12:00.000-07:002007-08-21T06:48:14.350-07:00

Having been swept away by the vortex that is Facebook, I have stepped off of the virtual social scene to return to the solitude that is Blogville. A time of earnest reflection is now at hand as the month of Elul presses in on those of us bound by Covenant love. Elul- the month of "ani l'dodi v'dodo li", I am to my Beloved, and my Beloved is to me. A time when God bends low to embrace and hold

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-21371694976360664722007-07-02T23:43:00.000-07:002007-07-02T23:49:19.105-07:00

Facebook has become the new scrim for relationships. A place where one can hide behind the safety of communication stripped of real time, real emotion, and real flesh and blood. A place where the currency of time is spent staring into a screen, instead of embracing a real human and engaging in the true dialogue of the heart. Facebook is in reality, a pale substitute- riskless, lifeless, and

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-29642981488026227592007-06-26T01:52:00.000-07:002007-06-26T07:45:22.754-07:00

There is a certain disconnect that I suppose is considered a 'normal' response to loss of a sudden, and unexpected nature. Loss that carries with it conflicting and ambivalent emotions. It always amazes me who shows up at such times. There are those who come, not knowing what to say or how to be- palpable with their own discomfort and unsure of how to handle anything but stereotypic grief.

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-74657504679143868732007-06-21T18:32:00.000-07:002007-06-21T21:15:05.417-07:00

She is gone now- to that place of shadow. That place of waiting. A place that requires trust on the part of those left behind. Trust that one day shadow will dissolve in blinding Light. But that day must remain sealed for a time to come. I wrote a small poem this morning, in the not knowing interval between life's promise and death's finality. "Dips and peaks. Black and white. All of the

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-49977677267743722662007-06-20T00:19:00.000-07:002007-06-20T00:34:39.594-07:00

Today is the 8th day that my mother has been in the coronary intensive care unit. During the last 8 days she has been intubated, extubated, intubated, extubated, and intubated again. Her trachea and larynx are swollen and bleeding. The doctors look grim, tight-lipped and guarded with their prognostications. There is a steady trickle of humanity intermingling with the beeps, clicks, and rhythmic

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-1725990065838551572007-06-15T16:53:00.000-07:002007-06-15T17:16:34.293-07:00

There is nothing quite like working a night shift at a hospital, and listening to the familiar "ding, ding...code blue..coronary care unit", only to realize that it is YOUR mother that is arresting at that very moment in time. The feeling of utter helplessness is palpable. There is a sense of disorientation...'where do I run'..'what do I do'...and tasks are performed in slow motion with one's

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-29621869551495129322007-06-11T23:45:00.000-07:002007-06-12T00:08:36.073-07:00

I can not remember a time in my life when I was pain-free. This is difficult for some to understand- however, I suppose that when you live with anything long enough, it becomes a part of the cell's memory. Pain springs up like an unwelcome weed in an otherwise pristine garden- at times hidden like the morning glory vines, becoming visible only as they choke the life from surrounding plants. At

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-59118409671870671522007-06-10T15:39:00.000-07:002007-06-11T15:17:40.505-07:00

Charlie Brown and I have shared a few things in common. We have dealt with difficult people, and have wrestled with our share of disappointments in this life. For example, Lucy is the bane of Charlie Brown's existence- having pulled that football out too many times. The Kite-eating-tree always wins, and the only consistent experience that Charlie has had with relationships is that of longing for

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-85677252653355879502007-06-10T14:50:00.000-07:002007-06-10T15:39:47.274-07:00

I am an observer. I guess I come by it honestly enough. I have spent over 20 years in school, taking notes, listening to others tell me how to think- only to have my thinking toppled by those who say that I must forge my own opinions. The risk of being "wrong" has always been too great, for in that state of "wrongness" lies the penalty of physical and/or emotional exile. The act of observing is a

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-8002970342982564242007-06-04T19:14:00.000-07:002007-06-04T20:30:32.511-07:00

I know that one can never know what the future holds. It would just be nice every now and then to catch a glimpse of what lies ahead. People can endure the most incredibly harsh circumstances- but prolonged uncertainty leaves the spirit impoverished of hope. I guess that is where faith comes in- but what is it that destroys a person's faith? And once destroyed, can it ever be rekindled again?

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-1274279813759699512007-06-03T22:03:00.000-07:002007-06-04T20:39:10.874-07:00

I struggle with the idea of being chosen by God. Chosen for what? I realize that part of 'chosen-ness' is in the act of my choosing to be in relationship to God. But I have to question God's keeping His end of the bargain at times. Forgive me if that sounds sacreligious. It just seems that- if you examine history-God has a difficult time letting go of grudges when it comes to the Jews. In the

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-27397152221626465302007-06-03T17:37:00.000-07:002007-06-03T22:03:43.854-07:00

I thought that being a mother-in-law would be a simple straight-forward type of thing. "You are not losing a son, you are gaining a daughter.." so goes the old adage. However, in the limbo that is the 'afterglow' of wedding and honeymoon, I am left wondering what is expected of me in this new role. When I was first married, I puzzled over how I was to relate to my in-laws. My own mother had

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-37837500592685873852007-06-03T11:22:00.000-07:002007-09-15T04:17:38.833-07:00

(Note: this is something that was written some months ago, and does not really reflect my current sentiments. As always in such journals, it is risky being transparently honest about what one is experiencing in the way of raw emotion....the fear being that it would be taken the wrong way by some readers. One can only hope that such is not the case.) "...is not worthy of me. And he who loves son

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-71663325714927137022007-05-27T01:16:00.000-07:002007-06-01T13:20:32.324-07:00

I confess- I am a Harry Potter fan. Not a fan per se of the title character- I rather fancy the Weasleys, and especially Hermione Granger. One has to give it to Rowlings however- she has distilled all of the key elements that make the world of fantasy so alluring, and poured them into the characters of her book like cream is poured into coffee. The ancient struggle of good against evil is blurred

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-25203823281591994002007-05-17T23:32:00.000-07:002007-05-17T23:51:55.123-07:00

It is with such tremendous joy that I embrace this new journey- that of being Imma to a new daughter-in-law. Perhaps this is the fulfillment of the dream that I had so long ago..where I saw a small, dark-haired and brown-eyed girl flitting in and out of the twilight that was my sleep. One can never have enough love in one's heart, and despite the nervousness, the wondering "will what I have to

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-22857449375772168782007-05-08T00:50:00.000-07:002007-09-15T04:08:57.680-07:00

We live our lives in a context of personal history. Our past informs and shapes our present, and that in turn forms the trajectory that becomes our future. If we are not proactive and mindful of our unique collection of broken experiences, then like a rudderless boat we will be tossed and sucked downstream by the currents and winds of familiarity. We slip into the groove of what is known- be

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-52791497566793487032007-05-06T00:50:00.000-07:002007-05-06T23:40:23.288-07:00

How life changes- expansion, contraction, a warm embrace, and a gentle push. There is so much that I want to say at this fork in the road. Words to my beloved firstborn. Words that only the mother of a son could understand. And yet there will likely be no opportunity for me to articulate those very same things- for love is a painful mute. I find myself listening to Matthew's CD over and over

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-3553285673815598542007-04-12T14:12:00.000-07:002007-04-12T14:26:55.959-07:00

I am reading a most intriguing book entitled "Gender", the first in a series of four volumes. The other three books contain essays that address issues in the arenas of ethics, faith, and culture. I must confess that I was not initially taken with the authour. Perhaps that was because I was feeling somewhat protective of my own convictions, and somewhat threatened by her Orthodox (and formerly '

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-12295347449730572132007-03-27T00:14:00.000-07:002007-03-29T18:05:59.358-07:00

Loving relationships are not easy. Marriages always will be tested, and it is in the testing that the cement of the heart is found to be true. However- even the strongest rock will erode over time when subjected to a continuous drip. Likewise, love may be more prone to diminish with ongoing and unabated criticism, and judgments. When a standard of expectation is not met, the result can be

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-34053194198761379942007-03-20T22:18:00.000-07:002007-03-20T23:56:04.542-07:00

It is a curious observation about North American youth and young adults- a generation raised on media promises of abundance and perfection. The level of expectation has shot through the roof. There are graduation ceremonies for kindergarteners, limosine-chauffered parties for high school graduates (and sometimes weekend cruises!!), and any number of high-ticket ($$) activities that MUST be

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-55982392942562094712007-03-17T23:41:00.000-07:002007-03-17T23:56:08.285-07:00

The most powerful words of wisdom come to me from my own flesh and blood. The old saying that 'the acorn does not fall far from the tree' is a timely reminder to me, particularly at times when I feel alone or otherwise isolated from the rest of humanity. Words of advice that I would once have given come travelling back to me with far more grace than I deserve. I am constantly humbled by the love

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-50480516192960905892007-03-05T21:36:00.001-08:002007-03-05T21:36:39.799-08:00

We have all gotten messages warning us of the latest computer virus- no doubt sponsored by the producers of anti-virus software. Thankyou once again Weird Al for helping us to see clearly.

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-69526732319741374432007-03-04T23:18:00.001-08:002007-03-04T23:18:16.422-08:00

Well....just when you thought that life was getting too serious. I was first introduced to this at the hospital (of all places). My medical colleagues and friends will enjoy. To those who MAY find this distasteful...suck it up and laugh a little.

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-22059691246258996412007-03-04T22:58:00.000-08:002007-03-04T23:10:58.802-08:00

There is more than one way to achieve an altered state of consciousness- something that Purim requires us to aspire to in order to recognize the potential for both good and evil residing in every individual. My path was through sleep deprivation. I worked a 12 hour night shift, and then went straight to the Megillah reading at the shul (I was then hauled up and asked to read chapter 4, in Hebrew,

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-81614466435371431722007-03-03T14:24:00.000-08:002007-03-03T15:02:46.220-08:00

Being Jewish has never been an easy thing. I have to realize this- the majority culture could care less about my holidays or traditions, or the fact that Jews are currently facing one of the worst existential crises since Haman planned to wipe us out 2,400 years ago. When you live in a majority culture, you become invisible- except if you happen to be singled out as a convenient scapegoat. Got

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-86891565714811256122007-02-25T10:17:00.000-08:002007-02-25T12:29:29.441-08:00

I realize that I never quite justified the statement "why I am Jewish". Not that it needs to be justified- perhaps clarified in the context of the article submitted by Rabbi Rosenblatt. In my pre-Tribe days, I was frequently told by the leaders in my faith community that I was "too intellectual", and that I "needed more faith....needed to just receive the love of God". We cut our teeth on the "

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-89873419462464694162007-02-25T10:05:00.000-08:002007-02-25T12:36:31.438-08:00

This morning I was reading an article on the sufferings of Job- a subject that has always intrigued me on a number of levels. Being well acquainted with pain and suffering myself, I was piqued by the title "Bad things do not happen to good people". I was immediately outraged by what I thought to be a blythe, distant, and overlysimplified way of looking at the acute misery of Job, and others like

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-91797405299607698672007-02-23T23:58:00.001-08:002007-02-23T23:58:30.268-08:00

Matthew will appreciate this one........

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-52299782188575312942007-02-23T23:51:00.001-08:002007-02-23T23:51:12.525-08:00

Those of you who know me will appreciate this video. I used to prepare my Biology 12 students for their provincial exams by quizzing them in "Jeopardy" fashion. It got so popular that I developed reviews for the Biology 11, and junior science classes. I was "Alice Treadneck" (sorry Alex Trebeck).

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-64539814974291527392007-02-23T23:46:00.001-08:002007-02-23T23:46:25.942-08:00

Just for the fun of it...what your mother would never tell you!!

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-52261242533498596592007-02-16T23:53:00.000-08:002007-02-17T17:26:28.872-08:00

I am glad no one reads my blog- or at least if they do, they have the grace not to comment and tear it to shreds. Blogging is risky activity. What happens if I actually say what is on my mind? What if my words are offensive? Politically incorrect? Theologically dysfunctional? I feel like I am screaming into cyberspace, and the silence of eternity swallows any sound that I make. Some of the blogs

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-3678660347244846482007-02-16T23:26:00.000-08:002007-02-16T23:52:47.451-08:00

Sometimes I wonder if singing is for my benefit or for God's pleasure, or perhaps both. Does God really care that I want to worship Him in this way, and if so, are my musical offerings acceptable to Him? Since God is not in the habit of speaking to me face to face, I can only say that MY soul is restored by the act of making music. The desire to give a pleasing gift is as old as Abel and Cain.

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-7120090853644243472007-02-15T22:46:00.000-08:002007-02-15T22:51:04.233-08:00

We have been working on the one act opera "Gianni Schicchi" for the last 4 months, and in that period we have gone through 3 potential Schicchis without ever having the opportunity to rehearse with any of them. What gives? The opera is killingly funny, and Schicchi doesn't even come into the opera until half way through. I can't imagine how we are going to pull this together for the end of March.

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-39465242473282377672007-02-15T00:34:00.000-08:002007-02-15T00:41:30.403-08:00

Tonight we talked about 'love' in our "Kabbalah of Character" class. Funny how that worked out. Valentine's day is not a Jewish feast day, but God didn't care about that- and any reason to talk about His love is fine by me. Rabbi Kaplan sounded an awful lot like another famous rabbi who lived 2000 years ago. "The greatest love that a person can show to another is when he is willing to sacrifice

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-73761867654237222802007-02-13T23:56:00.000-08:002007-02-13T23:57:15.842-08:00

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-64554906516695101642007-02-13T23:53:00.000-08:002007-02-13T23:56:07.346-08:00

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-7752710230936099492007-02-13T00:11:00.001-08:002007-02-11T17:34:29.588-08:00

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-15522018899456298752007-02-11T17:32:00.000-08:002007-02-10T01:13:44.310-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mBxJbnVE1Vc Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. For the sake of my mishpachot and for all who love her.

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-76828616885192724522007-02-08T22:44:00.000-08:002007-02-05T17:36:46.676-08:00

I read and hear an awful lot these days about orthodoxy- be it of the Jewish, Christian, or secular/political stripe. Orthodoxy is loosely defined as 'right doctrine' or 'correct thinking'. It is something that has evolved over time, and is tightly bound up with culture, and tradition. Depending on whether you happen to be an Orthodox Christian, Orthodox Jew, or Orthodox pastry chef- you will

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892012.post-50362830720164374382007-02-05T16:53:00.000-08:002007-02-05T17:36:46.772-08:00

Pain is a terrible master, but more so if there is no purpose found in it's existance. Perhaps pain is God's way of turning us outward- despite the fact that it is experienced in such excruciating solitude. Bearing witness to another person's pain is just as important as medical palliation, and in some cases may in itself lift the burden of suffering. God is described as "Adonai ro'ee" ('God sees

nehamashiranoreply@blogger.com0