The High Holy Days, in addition to being cinematic in intensity, always has a theme running through it - at least for me. Some years, the theme has been about making amends. There have been years when I spent every day between Rosh Hashona and Yom Kippur saying I'm sorry! - at the conclusion of years when for some reason or another I've dropped deeply into Bad Behaviors. Yikes.
Some years the theme has been the opposite; I mean I've spent the HHD praying for forgiveness. One year I sat down and made a list of all the things I was angry about. I made a list of grudges I'd been holding, some of them for years. One by one I let go of the resentments. That was a really fabulous year, I should add. What a relief!
This year has had a double theme of highs and lows, along with a lot of grieving for the loose ends that can never, for whatever reasons, be tied up. It's a controlling behavior, of course, to think that every loose end in life can be neatly trimmed, knotted or knitted into a lovely design. Life by its very nature always has a few ragged edges.
This year I have been sitting with the ragged edges, feeling a lot of grief and loneliness, too, for the sad state of these uneven patches that (apparently) will remain frazzled and frayed into perpetuity.
I continue to dream about Hitler and my ex husband. My relationship with the Holocaust is one of those loose ends that refuses to be neatly tied up, even though I went to the Holocaust Museum, got the tattoo, went out and gave myself asthma staring at the neo-Nazis yesterday. I've been trying to complete or heal my relationship with the Holocaust. I've tried so hard, but it stays with me, in me, no matter what.
My marriage, too, seems unresolvable somehow. My ex and I divorced 17 years ago, but still I dream, as I did the night before last, for instance, that I'm telling him we must divorce. He is so sad in the dream, realizing it has to happen.
Good lord.
The extremes of this year's HHD have been striking. The Gold Medal ceremony AND neo-Nazis? My goodness. It has been like a Cecil B. DeMille movie.
Maybe that's why I'm so tired already (though I'm only halfway through the HHD). I await Wednesday (Yom Kippur) when I'll see the Sufi acupuncturist and a couple of clients, gather with friends in the evening to break the fast that I will not keep. I am so ready for 5773. Bring it on.
I wonder if other Jews experience the HHD the way I do, with so much intensity. Who knows?
Happy Sunday. Shalom.
2 comments:
Raised a christian, I rested in Judaism for a while on my journey. I converted to raise my kids as jews though I knew it was only a way station for me. I've let go of religion many years ago and don't really consider myself a jew now but I still try to observe the Days Of Awe, reflecting on the past year, letting go of grudges and things that hold my spirit down.
Even when I was a high priestess of witchcraft, I always sensed the HHD. I would feel them, the cinematic halcyon colors and emotions. Then I would look at a calendar and realize, oh yeah, they're here. I am so Jewish! It's in my DNA.
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