February is a little less February-ish in Tel Aviv than it was in Boston. I was even able to run on the beach a few days ago-- this is February!? But it has been raining in Israel so far this week, so I guess you slotted me on the right date, Ruthie.
By the way, Ruthie came to Israel a few months ago, and she and I painted the town red. And by "the town," I mean one bar in particular, and this one bar liked Ruthie so much that they named a drink after her!! *applause, applause*
What a special trip that was, Ruthie! And the rest of you: you all are welcome to come visit, too. Its such a bizarrely nice thing to see how this community has grown and shifted in the past five years. This year in particular, my relationships with you all have changed so much (Hi Jonah.) (HI JANA!). And I look forward to seeing how the rest of you pop up in my life in unexpected ways in the future, too.
Time is moving. I'm 28 now. My energy is a little less renewable these days. And I don't know how to cope! I still need to let go- I mean really unwind- just like I did when I was 22 (shout out Tswift)... but now it takes me a week to recover. Where's the balance? I'm good at extremes: work hard, play hard. It is that elusive middle ground that I can't seem to find. Today is day 38 for me of a no-alcohol period, the longest dry stretch I've accomplished since my sophomore year of high school. I'm proud, and it wasn't even hard, but I'd like to not be so drastic. Slow but steady is a technique I have yet to master.
Sometimes, though, extremes are good. For example-- I know we all need to practice our breathing, and that we use this blogosphere to let out a big collective sigh. So, at the same token, shouldn't we cultivate exactly the opposite? Shouldn't we work as hard at making sure we know how to stir up something real? Watch this sermon, starting at 37:40. As my friend Adam beautifully preaches:
"What seems to be in vogue these days is standing over and above anger-- mindfully objectifying or intellectualizing it as if it were somehow naive or pedestrian, immature or inappropriate, unsophisticated or unenlightened, to really feel anger marrow-deep in our bones. As if anger itself can never mature. When we are increasingly encouraged, however wisely (and there is wisdom in it!) to return to the breath, I think it is helpful sometimes to hold in mind the percussive, pulsating, equally life-sustaining beat in the center of our chests instead. So be angry."
I appreciate our February-ness in all the ways it eases and supports and caresses and alleviates. But now I also see the way our words should push and evoke and jostle and impel. This February, I hope to feel deeply, no matter which side of equilibrium this effort lands me. I am in need of the reminder that balance isn't a virtue when its actually just numbness masqueraded.
Love,
Zoe
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