Category Archives: Observe & Ponder

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.”

Chimera

Observe & Ponder


In the wee hours of this morning, I had a nightmare that brought me back to my younger years when I was living with my grandmother, great-grandmother, and mother in a tenement railroad apartment on Huron Street in Bridgeport, Connecticut.

My recurring nightmare back then was paralyzingly frightening: a smirking animal monster hiding at the bottom of the front door stairs of that crummy apartment waiting for me. I was never clear about what kind of animal it was, but it still scared the bejesus out of me.

That damn dream did the trick because I never dared to enter the long, dark hallway leading to the bottom of those filthy stairs for fear that something would be lurking there and, indeed, waiting for me.

And anyway, a padlock the size of my head was bolted onto the front door, making it impossible to get in or out. The only way in and out of our apartment was to climb up several levels of outdoor stairs to get to the back door of the fourth-floor tenement — one way in and out — a real fire trap.

I haven’t had that dream for over 60 years, but the evil-looking monster in this morning’s nightmare was eerily similar — except this dude was clearly a mixture of a lion and a goat.

The dream was so startling that at 3 am, I grabbed a pad and pencil and then typed the words “part lion and part goat” into my phone.

And there it was: Chimera.

According to Greek mythology, the Chimera was a female monster with a lion’s head, a goat’s body, and a serpent’s tail. Ooh, my monster dude was actually a dudette. Now, this female monster was my kind of animal.

One definition described a chimera as something hoped for but illusory and impossible to achieve in reality. This definition resonated with me.

Another relatable description read: “The Chimera represents the coexistence of opposites, such as strength and vulnerability, courage and fear, and life and death.”

Whoa. Maybe my dream was a sign and not a nightmare at all.

When I rehashed how I felt when I first saw the lion goat in my dream, I wasn’t afraid of it per se. It was more of a feeling that I needed an added level of removal or protection, if that makes any sense.

After mulling over the dream’s interpretation, I asked myself: Was I the Chimera?

I tried to get back to sleep, but all I could think about was this Chimera and the duality of her existence. Was she a conflicted role-player of sorts? Who was this Chimera to me?

Trying to get back to sleep was useless, so I made a strong cup of coffee and then parked myself at my desk for hours, searching the Internet to learn more about my Chimera.

According to Wikipedia, Homer depicted Chimera in his epic poem, The Iliad: “Her breath came out in terrible blasts of burning flame.” Hmm, according to Homer, this Chimera character had a big mouth. I was starting to like her, but unfortunately, she met a violent demise.

Also, as told in The Iliad, King Iobates of Lycia, who despised Bellerophon, the son of Poseidon, ordered him to slay the Chimera, hoping the she-monster would kill him instead.

I was fascinated by the myth and wanted to know why King Iobates despised Bellerophon so much. According to one source, Iobates received a letter from Proetus, the King of Argos and Tiryns, instructing him, “Please remove this bearer from the world: he attempted to violate my wife, your daughter.”

Okay.

Chimera’s hot breath made it impossible for Bellerophon to get close enough to kill her. So he took a large block of lead, mounted it on his spear, and using his winged horse Pegasus, he flew over her and then shot it into Chimera’s mouth.

Chimera’s fire breath melted the lead, blocked her air passageway, and suffocated her. YIKES. I guess that shut her up.

But Bellerophon got too big for his britches when he sought to ascend to heaven in a vain and foolish attempt to join the gods on Mount Olympus, angering Zeus, the God of the sky.

According to my research, Bellerophon’s demise went one of two ways:

In one scenario, Zeus orders Pegasus to drop Bellerophon from the sky to the ground, instantly killing him.

In the other, Zeus orders Pegasus to drop Bellerophon from the sky to the ground, but he doesn’t die.

Instead, he falls onto a thorn bush face-first and is blinded and paralyzed, causing him to live out his life in misery, “devouring his own soul,” until he eventually dies. Call me a monster, but I much prefer this scenario.

At 70

Observe & Ponder


[My self-portrait with the help of AI]

From birth to age 12, my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother were my heroes. In my teens through 21, my heroes were my friends. Then came the boss heroes who guided me through the corporate ladder climb. Once I reached my 40s, my husband morphed into my hero. And in my 50s, I looked for the hero in my kids. Then I went heroless for a while.

And now, at 70, I see that the hero I spent a lifetime searching for was inside me the whole time.

Here are my notes to self on the arrival of my 70th birthday:

At 70…

I am not too old.

I will plant another butterfly bush, so more will come.

I can spend the time I have left in any way I choose.

The clock is of no import to me now.

I’m still a work in progress.

Endings might just be more beautiful than beginnings.

I can finally focus on what I want to do and not what I need to do.

The most tragic and regretful goodbye is the one that was never said.

Money is not the answer to everything, but it helps.

The family I have isn’t all the family I need, but I have hope.

I’m not at peace. But I’m working on it.

I now know that to exist is to survive.

Friends come and go, but some surprise you and stay forever.

For the first time in my life, I can do whatever I want, whenever I want.

I am more than the sum of my Bridgeport parts, but I will never forget where I came from.

The adage “You get what you give” is not always true.

I don’t want anything I don’t already have.

Sometimes goodbye, not sorry, is the hardest word.

My hard work actually did pay off.

I will say his name. But not yet.

It is never too late.