Wednesday, April 11, 2007


I understand now why my Rabbi wanted me to wait until after Passover to convert. He was probably convinced that once I experienced the holiday in true form, I would have my suitcases packed and running stright to the Pope's confession waiting list. If he thought that, he wasn't far from reading my mind at certain moments. Secretly, I wanted to open the cupboard of sold Chametz and wipe it all over my body, or blow up a baby pool right there in the living room and swim in it. I liked the whole wine thing, until there was just too much wine around and I couldn't bear to look at it anymore. Unopened bottles waited for my attention, but they stood there ignored. Well, until I was bored that is. Which took a few days, but definitely not all week.
So, on the last day of Chag, that being Monday, I was hanging upside down on my couch, staring outside at the big, blue sky that overlooks the holiest land in the world and thought: "Whaaaat whaaaat whaaat am I doing??". "Is there a G-d?? What does he want from me? Just to be? Does G-d care if I'm a Jew or not, which pattern of life do I belong in?" I contemplated until there was too much blood in my head and my sinuses were clogging.
In the past few days my dreams have been of: floods, waves, plagues, death- suffering souls, babies being born, a rock, water on this large rock, people out to get me, me getting those people instead, my climbing up large mountains, friends, those I've lost, going somewhere special, life boats, good looking taxi drivers.
I figure these dreams out whilst listening to Ben Folds Five on my iPod on my 30 min bike ride to work. I stare at the flowering white and pink buds highlighting my bike path at 7:30 in the morning. The sky is a bit foggy with sand and is pink and pale. I've got goose bumps on my arms and I feel invited. I simply wait for my Rabbi to call.


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