Category Archives: Observe & Ponder

Four Thousand Weeks

Observe & Ponder

In 2021, Oliver Burkeman wrote a brilliant bestseller, Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals.

Four thousand weeks equates to 76.923 years. If Burkeman is correct, this leaves me with a little under five years to get sh*t done.

Some Jewish scholars, particularly within Kabbalah and Hasidic Judaism, believe that souls return to human form to complete an unfinished life or to rectify past actions.

So maybe I have more time than Burkeman thinks—assuming I return as someone else, my time might be indefinitely infinite.

And if there is any truth to what these Jewish scholars believe, I have a list of souls who may or may not be lurking around me—some who died too young and whom I miss terribly, and others who most definitely owe me some rectification.

The concept of “Gilgul,” the Hebrew word for “the transmigration of souls,” refers to moving a soul into another body upon death. This concept is also a central belief in many religions and philosophies, including Buddhism, Hinduism, and Sikhism.

It kind of creeps me out, but I also love it because it makes me hopeful that I can return to the beginning once I get to the end. Plus, I have a few past actions I would love to rectify.

Burkeman’s four-thousand-week theory, combined with Gilgul, reminds me that I need to make the most of the here and now because my time is quickly running out.

But rectifying past actions by returning to another human form sounds easier said than done, so I have a few questions:

  • What would a future apology by a future other body look like?
  • Plus, if my apology was already rejected, how would moving into another body change that?
  • And anyway, how does one choose another body? Does one simply stumble upon it, or do we have options?
  • And finally, whose body would I want to morph into? And what if this body I’m eyeing is already spoken for?

In Hinduism, karma determines what form the soul will take in the next life, so maybe I won’t have a choice. And karma can be tricky. You know what many say about karma being…

I probably have too much time on my hands, but the question of whose body I would like to morph into has given me a lot to think about these past few days.

After much thought ( I know I need a life), I decided that whatever is unfinished or needs rectifying, I need to do it soon and not rely on some other future body to do it for me.

As a control freak, I’m not leaving anything up to fate or karma, so I’m going with the Buddhist perspective: My actions in this life will eventually decide my fate in the next one, so I better get busy.

Lamentations

Observe & Ponder


I had recently returned home from a trip to Israel three weeks before the barbaric assault by Hamas against innocent people in Southern Israel on October 7, 2023, when I had a dream about writing scripture.

In my dream, reams of paper and holy words were spread before me as I assiduously read them aloud. I woke up thinking it was an odd and possibly ungodly supposition to think I would even dream such a thing.

Only when my husband left an article on my desk about Lamentations, the 25th Book of the Old Testament, did I remember the dream from months earlier.

The article was about two October 7 female survivors who each wrote a lamentation about their harrowing experience.

I immediately Googled the word “lamentation.”

Lamentation: a passionate expression of grief, sorrow, mourning, or regret—a weeping.

My Googling got me thinking that maybe I misinterpreted my dream—that perhaps I hadn’t been writing scripture at all but instead was obsessed with some other lament. But what?

The Biblical Book of Lamentations is a collection of sorrowful poems—five chapters or elegies that focus on the extreme pain and misery of the people of Judah following the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the First Temple by the Babylonians in 586 BCE. In Lamentations, the city of Jerusalem is depicted as a grieving widow, and the imagery is incredibly and heartbreakingly powerful.

Now, I don’t propose that I know anything about anything when it comes to the Bible. I’m just trying to make sense of my dream and how it might relate to writing my own lamentation, so please feel free to contact me with any corrections regarding what I have written here today.

Theological studies of Lamentations have long been fascinated by its literary acrostic device, how and why the poems are built around the letters of the Hebrew alphabet, and whether or not the author was the Hebrew prophet Jeremiah. I will leave the tenor of the structure and the presumed author(s) to the experts.

My fascination with Lamentations is in the beauty, the sorrowful ache, and the level of sophistication in every line of verse. And how it hauntingly relates to my current life situation.

While nothing can compare to the Biblical text of Lamentations, over the generations, more lamentations were later written in response to the horrors and suffering Jews experienced over time and place: The destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, the massacres of the medieval Crusades, the public burning of the Talmud in the 13th century, the unspeakable Spanish massacres of 1391, the Spanish expulsion of 1492, and on and on and on.

As I grabbed my Bible and read through Lamentations, it was 2:15-16 that gave me October 7 déjà vu and chill bumps. The words took on more significant and profound meaning because since October 7, I have been horrified by the antisemitism on college campuses and elsewhere, and I would dare say seemingly everywhere these days.

The recent hissing, gnashing, and Jew-baiting by the hateful has caused me to rethink how I feel about others I once had sympathy for. Those suffering people I aligned with and protested alongside for years, have me looking at them in another light. I am now suspicious in a way I was never before. I no longer wear my Jewish Star for fear of getting punched in the face or worse. And all this hatefulness has reminded me of the hate against me from those I once loved and, in many ways, still do.

Lamentations
2:15
All who pass your way
Clap their hands at you;
They hiss and wag their head
At Fair Jerusalem:
“Is this the city that was called
Perfect in Beauty,
Joy of All the Earth?”

2:16
All your enemies
Jeer at you;
They hiss and gnash their teeth,
And cry: “We’ve ruined her!
Ah, this is the day we hoped for;
We have lived to see it!”

So here it is:

What was my dream about? Was I supposed to write a lamentation?

After much soul-searching, I have decided that—YES—a lamentation is in my near future, so stay tuned.

He Had Me at Humble

Observe & Ponder,

Rabbi Marcus’ article in the latest issue of Chabad Magazine was titled “The Humble Girls of Jerusalem,” but the word “humble” was what caught my eye, and prompted me to read his piece.

His article was adapted from Likkutei Sichot, Volume 24, page 57.

Likkutei Sichos is a series of 39 volumes that contain the teachings of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, also known as the Lubavitcher Rebbe. The Hebrew title, Likkutei Sichos, translates to “Collected Talks” in English.

According to Rabbi Marcus, this particular teaching by the Lubavitcher Rebbe about humble girls explains that we all come from different lifestyles, families, religions, and socio-economic backgrounds but that “…fundamentally, it boils down to two types of people.”

“The first type takes credit for their genes, good looks, family heritage, and parents’ wealth.”

“The second type, the poor, unattractive girl, can’t boast family or wealth. Instead, she demonstrates that she’s self-made, knowledgeable, capable, and, most importantly, understands what it means to struggle. This poor G-d-fearing, ‘daughter of Jerusalem,’ is not ugly, and she knows you’ll see her beauty once she can afford a decent haircut, a new dress, and some essential jewelry.”

I found the words of both Rabbis to be incredibly stirring, and having been brought up in humble beginnings, I related to the poor, unattractive, God-fearing girl.

I honestly never heard of Likkutei Sichos before, but the Rebbe’s teaching about the humbleness of one’s importance touched and uplifted me.

The article also brilliantly connected Chasidic teachings with the moon.

I don’t know about you, but I’m obsessed with the moon and spend an abundance of time gazing at and adoring it in stupefied wonder.

Speaking of the moon, Jews primarily use it as the basis for their calendar because Jewish tradition dictates that their calendar should be lunar-based.

Dating back to ancient times, the Jewish calendar follows the moon’s cycles—with the new moon marking the start of a new month. As stated in the Talmud: “Israel counts by the moon,” while other nations count by the sun, which is why the Jewish holidays begin at sundown.

But I digress.

According to Rabbi Marcus, in Chasidic teachings, the moon serves as the perfect example of humility and humbleness. The words he used to describe the moon’s connection to these selfless qualities were beautiful and incredibly inspiring:

“…the moon…gracefully lets everyone know it’s just a reflection of the sun’s light…the moon shows us how to be a graceful receiver, shining a beautiful light that’s not its own.”

Rabbi Marcus’ words about God, humility, humbleness, and the moon touched my religious senses in a way I had never before been moved.

And I can’t imagine I will ever look at the moon the same way again.

Rabbi Marcus ended with: “You could be rich, beautiful, and from a great family, but your true power comes when you lift your eyes and see where it all comes from.”

Amen to that.

Scent Memories

Observe & Ponder,

My scent memories immediately bring to mind the French word “sillage,” pronounced “see-yahzh,” which translates to the word “wake,” like the trail left by a boat as it moves through the water.

In the fragrance world, sillage refers to the trail a scent leaves long after the wearer is gone, like someone leaving a car or exiting an elevator.

Sillage creates a poignant image: The lingering scent a person leaves behind is a memory, yet the smell is very much alive.

The fragrance wheel, created in 1949 and modernized in the 1980s, divides fragrances into four distinct families: Fresh, Floral, Amber, and Woody.

Each fragrance family shares similar aromas and characteristics that complement each other.

It is indeed a family affair—from the scent choices our loved ones make to the memories and emotions those scents evoke.

Additionally, every family has an outlier. Fragrance outliers are unique in that they can fall into any or all of the scent families.

THE SCENT FAMILIES AND THEIR ATTRIBUTES:

FRESH (Classic, subtle, laid back, zesty, cooling, vibrant, inoffensive, light, bright and aromatic).

FLORAL (Feminine, timeless, light, powdery, delicate, gentle, flowery, pretty, citrusy, velvety, romantic, and old school.)

AMBER (Sensual, dramatic, lush, dusty, warm, bold, exotic, musky, and rooted in nature.)

WOODY (Rich, elegant, opulent, intense, earthy, sensual, spicy, crisp, dry, clean, smoky, unisex, and potent.)

My French grandmother wore L’air du Temps (a Floral developed in 1948), and her mother—my great-grandmother wore English Lavender (also a floral that debuted in 1799). They both chose Florals as their go-to scent.

My mother wore Shalimar (an Amber created in 1925) and Chantilly (a Floral launched in 1941). Her scent preference varied between flowery and musky.

I have ancient, near-empty bottles of all four perfumes in a small display box, and I smell them when I’m feeling untethered, nostalgic, or simply want to be taken back in time.

I used to wear Chamade (an Amber launched in 1969) and Love’s Baby Soft (a Floral from 1974).

Some of my other go-to scents included Heaven Sent (an Amber launched in 1941), White Shoulders (a Floral from 1943), and Youth Dew (an Amber launched in 1953, the year I was born).

And then there was Wind Song (a Floral, also from 1953), Emeraude (an Amber, circa 1921), Cachet (a Floral from 1970), and Anais Anais (a Floral from 1978).

And finally, Je Reviens (an Amber launched in 1932), White Linen (a Floral from 1978), Ysatis (a Floral from 1984, the year my first child was born), Coco (an Amber, also launched in 1984), and White Musk Perfume Oil, which I just wore yesterday (an Amber created in 1981).

An old boyfriend once bought me a bottle of Joy (a Floral from 1930), and for years after we broke up, every time I smelled it on someone, I got depressed.

Until writing this blog post, I had no idea the only scent families I have ever worn are Amber and Floral. Is it possible that genes determine our scent preferences?

The sense of smell is most closely related to memory. The scent memory that impacts me the most is my son’s cologne, Davidoff Cool Water (an Amber from 1988, the year my second child was born).

I don’t know if he still wears it, but I keep his old bottle in my medicine cabinet and smell it often—a fragrant instant replay.

The American poet, prose writer, and aspiring musician Christopher Poindexter said it best: “Nothing brings to life a forgotten memory like a fragrance.”