“I have often run across men (and rarely, but not never, women) who have become so powerful that there is no one around to tell them when they are cruel, wrong, foolish, absurd, repugnant. In the end there is no one else in their world, because when you are not willing to hear how others feel, what others need, when you do not care, you are not willing to acknowledge others’ existence. That’s how it’s lonely at the top. It is as if these petty tyrants live in a world without honest mirrors, without others, without gravity, and they are buffered from the consequences of their failures.”
* * * * *
“And what [Hannah Arendt] called ‘the banality of evil’ was the inability to hear another voice, the inability to have a dialogue either with oneself or the imagination to have a dialogue with the world, the moral world.
“Some use their power to silence that dialogue and live in the void of their own increasingly deteriorating, off-course sense of self and meaning. It’s like going made on a desert island, only with sycophants and room service. It’s like having a compliant compass that agrees north is wherever you want it to be. The tyrant of a family, the tyrant of a little business or a huge enterprise, the tyrant of a nation – power corrupts, and absolute power often corrupts the awareness of those who possess it. Or reduces it: narcissists, sociopaths, and egomaniacs are people for whom others don’t exist.
“We gain awareness of ourselves and others from setbacks and difficulties; we get used to a world that is not always about us; and those who do not have to cope with that are brittle, weak, unable to endure contradiction, convinced of the necessity of always having one’s own way.”
* * * * *
“… I pair privilege with obliviousness; obliviousness is privilege’s form of deprivation. When you don’t hear others, they become unreal, and you are left in the wasteland of a world with only yourself in it. That surely makes you starving, though you know not for what, if you have ceased to imagine that others exist in any true, deep way.”
“I told you in class that you must tell your story. This is because, if even one person learns from it how to be more human, you will have made your memories into a blessing. We must turn our suffering into a bridge so that others might suffer less.”
Burger was a student, teaching assistant, and friend of Elie Wiesel for 20 years and gives us powerful insight into one of the greatest human beings in recent history. Wiesel taught at Boston University for 40 years and we get to see what that must have been like… his classroom lectures, his open dialogue with students, and the content of key conversations that changed Burger’s life. I especially appreciate how he used literature, Torah, and the Oral Tradition to awaken sensitivity in his students and to encourage them to act. There are so many passages in this book that I highlighted because of their profundity.
“When moral education works, students investigate and embrace new ways of thinking, learn new habits of questioning, and, ultimately, find a deeper sense of common humanity. Students who experience this become sensitized to suffering. They read the news differently. They are no longer able to pass a homeless person on the street without offering at least a smile. They speak up when they overhear a bigoted word or see a bully. Inaction is no longer an option.”
“In his Nobel Prize acceptance speech, William Faulkner said that the only thing really worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself. There is a mirroring that happens between inner and outer hospitality. The more we are able to accept the many aspects of who we are, however contradictory those aspects are, the more easily we can accept others, with all their contradictions.”
Wiesel ignited something in Burger and in countless other students. He encouraged questions and experiential learning in a style rarely seen on a university campus, a “methodology of wonder” where ethics and morals were awakened in students.
“So often we are told not to be too passionate, not to feel too much, to go along with the world as it is. I reject that. I believe we are meant to feel strongly, to feel deeply, to awaken and cultivate our yearning for good. Only then can we have a chance of overcoming those who are passionate for the wrong things.”
Wiesel and Burger’s last encounter is told poignantly and beautifully. I can’t even imagine having such a mentor for 20 years. Now I want to read Wiesel’s 3 memoirs.
Alva Vanderbilt was headstrong and ahead of her time. She married into a family of great wealth, helped them gain societal notice, worked in architecture designing and building homes, was instrumental in the passage of the 19th amendment, and was one of the first women to divorce. I enjoyed the story very much until the last fifth or so, which I though was unnecessary. Alva was a well-developed character, but the others in the novel seemed to lack substance.
“Leaning back in his chair, he lit a pipe and said, ‘If we view topmost society as a piece of fabric, we can think of each member as a thread in that fabric. Part of what holds it together – weaves it into a thing of strength such that each of us is clothed, protected, by that fabric – is the concentration of assets and power in the hands of particularly accomplished men, hour husband being such a one. These men see to the care and well-being and material needs of their respective families, resulting in societal harmony – or let’s say a fine overcoat that covers everyone, keeps you safe and warm. If you persist in your suit, you divide Mr. Vanderbilt’s assets, thus weakening the fabric. Your example could plant in other ladies’ minds the notion that they, too, can take their offenses to the courts, resulting in further subdivision and thus further weakening. The coat is moth-eaten and worthless. What’s more, ladies have no capacity for managing assets…'”
A psychotherapist and newly-single woman tells of her patients as well as her own experience seeking therapy. This is a refreshing take on a common experience and fascinating to see what happens in others’ sessions. It’s a smart and relatable book.
“An interesting paradox of the therapy process: In order to do their job, therapists try to see patients as they really are, which means noticing their vulnerabilities and entrenched patterns and struggles. Patients, of course, want to be helped, but they also want to be liked and admired. In other words, they want to hide their vulnerabilities and entrenched patterns and struggles. That’s not to say that therapists don’t look for a patient’s strengths and try to build on those. We do. But while we aim to discover what’s not working, patients try to keep the illusion going to avoid shame—to seem more together than they really are. Both parties have the well-being of the patient in mind but often work at cross-purposes in the service of a mutual goal.”
A fantastical tale of inhabitants of a magical healing house. Each woman gets 99 days for healing and reinventing her life. My favorite aspect was that the pictures on the walls were literary characters who speak to the women and seem to know everything about their life, among them Daphne du Maurier, Vita Sackville West, and Dorothy Parker. The main characters were rather one-dimensional (except for the house itself, which was ever-changing and wise) but I enjoyed their stories for what they were. I don’t read magical realism but got absorbed in the story and read it in one evening.
I was serious when I said I wanted to read more of Reid’s books! This is another of her fantastic novels that is so easy to get quickly absorbed into. Poor girl to Hollywood starlet is a self-made success and tells her memoirs solely to a young writer who I couldn’t help but identify with. Reid writes realistic characters with compelling stories. It’s kind of a historical fictional romance but it encompasses so many topics, the best of which is owning who you are.
“I told her every single day that her life had been the world’s greatest gift to me, that I believed I was put on earth not to make movies or wear emerald-green gowns and wave at crowds but to be her mother.”
This is an honest look at a young person’s transformation out of white nationalism. Derek Black was a quiet and studious boy who also happened to believe that the white “race” is endangered. He had worked tirelessly to organize conferences and work on the #1 racial hate website, Stormfront. His godfather was David Duke! It was not until he transferred to a small, liberal arts college of 800 that he began to question his political convictions. When true friends found out about his hidden life and were offended, they engaged him in respectful conversations. Ultimately, he came to see that the movement was dangerous and flawed.
I empathized with Derek because he was not an extremist. This story showed his close relationship with his family, how he grew up in this environment. Derek slowly but logically challenged his own beliefs and ultimately had to do a very hard thing, telling the people he loves most that they were wrong. The book shows that personal relationships are so much more important than theories in understanding other groups of people.
“Derek thought the white race was facing imminent decline and singular racial persecution… he believed people of color were more likely to struggle because of their own biological deficiencies… he found diversity so threatening that, at least theoretically, he wanted to separate people by skin color onto different continents, even if that meant disrupting millions of lives.”
I thought the book was needlessly long. The history of his father, the parts about his family, other pieces about the continued rise of the WN movement were interesting, but didn’t add too much to Derek’s story.
It turns out that I read this memoir in 2014. I didn’t remember any of it! Maybe it meant more to me now… I understand how a parent can feel afraid for their child’s health, or how anyone might struggle with faith and doubt. Dani Shapiro writes with clarity and honesty about her anxiety, mortality, her meditation practice, and her search for a spiritual home for her family.
“I felt it all, all at once – the way that time can slow to a near standstill simply by existing inside it. By not pushing through it, or past it – by not wishing it away, nor trying to capture it. It was a lesson I needed to learn over and over again: to stop and simply be. To recognize these moments and enter them – with reverence and an unprotected heart – as if walking into a cathedral.”
I just had to read this after finishing Witness. It took me awhile to work through it, but I’m glad I learned more about Wiesel’s childhood and life after the war, his adventurous journalism career, and his nonfiction writing. He wrote 2 more memoirs and someday I will get to those too.
We’ve finally gotten past our latest delay and we have walls!!!
I don’t talk about the house with friends because it’s pretty much all I think about already. I could tell you 50 facts about windows and their materials and structures, but I’d rather hear what’s new with you.
I recently ran into a neighbor who used to live across the street from us. She said they had such trouble deciding if they would put their house back, elevate it, tear it down, or just sell and move on. Ultimately, they decided to sell it and move to a new home and someone else has since bought the lot and demoed the house.
She said she just wants to go “home,” meaning she wants to feel settled. She wants mental peace. She wants to be done with this whole darn thing. She wants her street and her neighbors back.
I understand all of that! Of course every situation is different, but she said she was happy for us that we are building and if they were younger, they would do the same. She was most impressed that at how quickly we made a decision and put it into action. I thanked her but also told her that speed doesn’t necessarily mean anything anymore (hello delays!), but that just making a decision was the important part to me. I reassured her that until we finally tore the house down 6 months after the storm, I went back-and-forth about it every single day, even though we were already working with the builder and architect. Everyone needs peace of mind.
Looking at the structure that sits on our lot today, it looks like a home. It’s going to be amazing. I’m told that now that the sheetrock is up, the pace will speed up and we hope to be HOME in September.
Monday, 3/4: Framing the breezeway begins!
Tuesday, 3/5: Breezeway dried in and garage steps and landing framed.
Meanwhile, the person making our Master Bath barn door sent me this image after he’d finished sanding both sides. I love it already.
Wednesday, 3/6: Meeting to go over some framing details for new door and ceiling height.
I opted to add a raised platform there so we wouldn’t lose square footage up there. We were thinking this would be a cool Media Room. I drew it to describe it to Mr. B, who was out of town.
Friday, 3/8: Project meeting. We returned to see what the raised platform looked like, and I wish I’d thought to take a picture. It was HUGE! It was so tall it would have needed a few steps to get up there! Made change to lower that platform to top of garage entry door.
Monday, 3/11: Electricians running all the wire to the panel in the garage.
Tuesday, 3/19: Minor repairs needed before frame inspection.
Wednesday, 3/20: Met A/C, electrician, and plumbing to go over a few punch items to complete by Friday.
The carpenter sent some pictures of how our powder room wood counter is coming along. It’s pretty cool.
We also discussed the kitchen table he is making. It can either be extendable to 8′ and a complete oval when closed or 9′ but not a true oval. I choose 8′ because most of the time it will be closed. The final closed dimensions will be 46″x54.”
Thursday, 3/21: Walk kitchen and bath cabinets with installer to review blocking, plumbing/electrical and low voltage. Discussion about master bathtub installation with new counter dimensions.
Friday, 3/22: Agreed to install tub at 45° angle in front of the window. Frame inspection failed due to just-released flood regulations from the City. Sheetrock delivered.
Tuesday, 3/26: Electricians making a few changes. Below is the stairway wall from the master bedroom to the electric closet below.
This is the electric closet where all the low voltage equipment will be housed. I sure can’t make sense of any of it!
Thursday, 3/28: Plumbing for master bath tub being moved. Other small corrections.
Friday, 4/5: Electric still not right. I had told them we do not have ceiling fans in certain rooms, but it turns out they deleted everything that was there too. Now we are missing wiring where key fixtures will go.
All the switch locations are hanging in their spots.
Wednesday, 4/10: Stopped by for final walk through before insulation tomorrow. The breezeway has windows now!
Thursday, 4/11: Foam insulation begins!
Wednesday, 4/17: Sheetrock hanging begins!
Tuesday, 4/23: Taping and floating begins.
Thursday, 4/25: Met with tile guy (whose name is Harvey – can’t get away from it) to measure for ordering.
Friday, 4/26: Met with PM to discuss exterior finishes.
Remodelista.com has a theme: “better living through organization.” What does that mean? Buy fewer, but better, things. Donate what you don’t use. Seek out products made of sustainable natural materials. Know what you have. Find a place for everything.
This is quite a beautiful book that I’ll enjoy looking at again and again. It’s pleasant to flip through, with lots of photos and breathing space around the words. The more-than-ample (hundreds of ideas!) practical advice is excellent. There are extra sections with “universal storage tactics,” a detailed directory of sources for storage staples. I especially appreciate that the Remodelista approach to organizing a home is plastic-free, simple, and uses things you already own.
I found the text to be entertaining and helpful, full of humor and product specifics.
I can’t even fathom how many ideas came from this book for me. I have lots of notes and plan to implement many of the practical solutions found here. I especially love the shop recommendations (many of which are small, family-owned) at the end. There are places I would never have known about that have unique goods, some even made by hand.
Many of these ideas I will implement in the new house, but I can say I was inspired by this book to finish going through my closet, jewelry, organize under our kitchen sink, and streamline my bookshelves.
Our selections: The accents of the cabinets are black. The countertop is white Silestone. The cabinets are the light brown. The chevron tile is for the backsplash.
I’ve chosen some chrome globe lights very similar to these I saw on Houzz and they will be hung in a slightly different way. It is going to be stunning!
The cabinets are going to be AWESOME. It took many meetings and months of changes, but it all came together and I’m really happy with it, including the way we designed the hood. I love the appliances we selected too and am excited to see it all together. They are at the warehouse here in Houston and will hopefully be installed soon.
I have some white counter stools picked out, not at all similar to these, but you get the idea.
We have someone making us a kitchen table! The actual space we have for it is rather tight, so it has to be rather compact, but since we do not have a dining room, the table will open up to add 2 leaves and seat 10.
Next to our kitchen, we have what we’ve called a “service pantry,” and next to that, a pantry.
This is the image that started everything. I loved it when I saw it on Houzz, so we copied the design as much as possible, down to the wine pegs.
Along the way, I added a little square sink that I thought might be nice for prep work or if we need the kitchen sink to be clear.
We will be celebrating Passover in less than 2 weeks. Passover is always on the 15th of the Jewish month of Nissan, which is a full moon. During the Passover Seder, we retell the story of the Israelites’ journey from slavery to freedom. It is also a celebration of spring, symbolizing growth and renewal, and it reminds us of our obligation to pursue justice for ourself, our community, and our world.
Our task in preparing for the days of Passover is to rid our house of any leavened bread. Sometimes people put a Jewish twist on “spring cleaning” and clean the house top to bottom. This ritual is meant to symbolize us purifying our heart to be more giving in thought and deed and free of any negative thoughts of others. Our heart as our home, if you will.
I’ve been sorting through belongings and possessions for a couple of months now and I already know it’s symbolic for me. I desperately want to lighten my load and release past tendencies and burdens.
That journey from slavery to freedom long ago was not simply “Let’s hop through the Red Sea and boom, we’re on the other side and free to resume our life.” Two generations lived a harsh nomadic life, wandering in the desert with unreliable sources of food and no security or shelter. I often wonder what went through those travelers’ minds, what they hoped for and dreamed about. Did they miss where they’d come from at all? Did they have a plan for how they’d like to begin anew? Where was “home” for them?
I would never liken my current “homelessness” to 40 years of wandering in a desert after years of oppression, but… well… there are some common themes. I have felt a liminal “in between”-ness for a period of time (20 months now). We left our home in an unplanned rush, lost many of our possessions, and much of my life feels “on hold.” The idea of exile, however voluntary, carries with it a vulnerability and a sense of disorientation. We are occupying different space, in transition, traveling. We are in neither place… we are in between. And it is darn uncomfortable!
* * * * *
My little family of three was sitting at one of our favorite casual restaurants this past Sunday, laughing and talking. Seemingly out of nowhere, a fierce storm began outside, which we watched with alarm through the restaurant’s large clear front windows. Loud thunder and flashes of lightening prompted restaurant employees to dash outside to try to secure the tables and umbrellas flapping in the strong wind. The common-sense thing to do was to stay put and wait for the storm to quiet. My instinct, however, was to get home asap. We made a split second decision to leave and my husband dashed through the downpour to get the car. As my daughter and I waited, arms wrapped around each other, we watched the rain blow sideways from unusually strong gusts of wind. When there seemed to be a short lull, we made a run for the car, ending up sopping wet in a matter of seconds.
We made it home safely. On the way, we saw street signs laying in the middle of roads. We were diverted a few blocks from our house because of some down trees. All the streets were decorated with leaves as if someone sprinkled confetti from above. The park a block away had several trees hit by lightning. We walked over later to watch the crews chop off dangling limbs take down a tree that was split right in half by lightening. Many streets lost power. A friend told me that a tornado went right through her backyard, a tree falling on their house.
Obviously if we had predicted the fierceness of the storm, we would have never gone out in the first place. Lesson: there is little that humanity can do to protect itself from the forces of nature.
* * * * *
There are lots of rituals that my family and many others have to impart the lesson of the Passover story to the young ones. We go around the table and have each person state what they would take with them if they had to leave their home in a hurry, just like the Israelites left Egypt with a moment’s notice. Most people mention photo albums or important keepsakes, sometimes animals or even matchbox cars. Nothing is as important as family and our own precious life.
In the days leading up to hurricane Harvey, not knowing how the storm would impact us, we took supplies and food up to the room above the garage that we had just finished building. It felt very hypothetical to think that we might need to survive for a period of time on a few boxes of food and possessions. Just in case, we lugged up financial documents, favorite stuffed animals, each bringing our own important things. I just knew I was going to have to take it all right back down after the storm, but I did it anyway. Honestly, much of it was to ease my daughter’s growing panic. I thought any action was better than sitting and watching the weather channel 24/7.
The moment the water begin entering our home, I had this feeling that I have often fruitlessly tried to put into words. It is elusive, refusing to be pinned down or named. It is an incomprehensibly familiar feeling to me, and yet I don’t remember ever having to leave somewhere in a hurry and not look back. At one point during the storm, since I was the only one with rain boots on, I attempted to wade through several feet of flood water to go back into the house. I remember being surprised at how much I had left behind, trusting that we would avoid exactly this. In a sweeping glance from a doorway, I could see cookbooks and photo albums, bath towels and boardgames all succumbing to the waters. I felt shocked and calm and accepting all at the same time. I think right then, I instantly let go of the idea of hanging onto anything in that house, even the house itself.
We stayed in that upstairs room for the entire expanse of day and night of the storm and most of the following day. We could not have descended if we had wanted to because of the several feet of water below. I felt very much like a modern Rapunzel stuck in her tower. I wonder how Noah and his family felt on the ark during that very first deluge, looking around from their boat at the expanse of water before them, probably feeling very very alone. Were there any limits to their faith? What did they know of their future?
* * * * *
In the path of the awesome power that is Mother Nature, it seems unavoidable that we will encounter situations when our life and what was contained within it can disappear faster than the blink of an eye. What remains is what we carry with us and within us. Our ideals. Our beliefs. Our faith and hope. Our matchbox cars.
What was Moses thinking as he led the slaves into the Red Sea and into an unknown future? What was Noah’s wife thinking as she prepared for their limitless journey ahead?
A year ago, assembling tables and dishes and haggadahs and food for Pesach in our rental home felt like a testament to resilience in the face of overwhelming circumstances. Just like we are to say at the end of the seder that we will be “next year in Jerusalem,” we were certain that we would be in our new home for the following year’s seder.
This year, overcoming that disappointment that we have many months before that will happen, preparing for the seder takes a little bit more inner work, at least for me. I hold onto the hope that the sentiment will be true for next year’s holiday. As we know, many a Jewish holiday has that resilience theme. We may be unpacking as we observe Sukkot in October, a holiday named for the temporary tents the Israelites carried with them during their exodus. That will be wholly symbolic in other ways.
The command to celebrate Passover is the command not just to have a Seder and retell the story, but is a command to celebrate the process of getting there. We are to value the means to get to the end, not just the end itself.
And so I am searching for value in my own “exile experience.” What will these 2 years of displacement come to mean for me? Have I fully let go of our lost home? How can I make the most of the liminality of the journey we are on?
I work every day to create and actualize our new home. In the meantime, I care for my family and tend to the temporary place we are in. If my home truly is my heart, I must care for my tender self in new ways. I am learning to let go of guilt and negative habits and to forgive my limitations.
Any kind of exodus entails struggle and hard work. This Passover (and always), I hope that anyone who is hungry, homeless, or enslaved by poverty, violence or oppression will find hope that a better world is possible.
Welcome and thank you for visiting! I’m Naomi – a mother, writer, creative soul, and avid reader. I aim to share my thoughts and ideas to inspire positive change that will help you live an authentic and caring life.
Poetic Aperture is for me and for you. I often write just to process the swirling activity inside, but I also hope to inspire COMPASSION, COURAGE, and WONDER in you and support you on your journey of elevating the everyday.
I am a rabbinical student at the Academy for Jewish Religion in New York. I am fortunate to have an amazing 15-year-old daughter and a supportive husband of 22 years.
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… reading in bed, candles, diving into a new project, learning something new, crisp crunchy leaves underfoot, hearing my daughter laugh, starting a new book, finishing a book, organizing, floating on my back in the pool and staring at the sky, writing, craft supplies, photography, poetry, a good massage, knowing smiles, singing along to the radio, getting things done, comfy bedding, hot chocolate, paying attention to the details, libraries and bookstores, campfires, astronomy, finding beauty in the everyday, impromptu road trips, quiet, journaling, learning about myself, waking up and reading in bed (preferably with coffee), home, interesting flowers, affection, Sleepytime tea, capturing a moment in time with my camera, true laughter, soft rain.
“There are many things in life that will catch your eye, but only a few will catch your heart. Pursue those.” ~ Michael Nolan