3 October 2008 (4 Tishrey 5769)
We would not be able to make any significant decision in life if we are to wait until we become completely certain about it. If the probability that something crucial about which we are about to decide will be successful is more than 50%, I will never hesitate to opt for it, as long as my reason and instinct agree with each other. But a serious problem arises when there is a conflict between them. To which of the two should we pay more attention when they tell us two contradictory things?
At least in one very important context I tended to listen to my instinct more attentively than to my reason, until several months ago I found myself for the first time in my life controlled more by reason. The decision, which in retrospect may have been rather hasty, made perfect sense rationally, at least for me back then; though my instinct did not oppose to this idea, it was not especially enthusiastic about it, either. And the result? A total failure which continued to devastate me for months.
When I almost recovered from this blow rather recently, I found myself in an opposite situation quite unexpectedly. When I heard dry data about a certain recommendation provided by someone who was familiar with the blow I absorbed, I told him it was not practical; this was the voice of my reason, and it still repeats the same thing, though less loudly. But the moment I saw his recommendation, my instinct told me to go for it against all odds. I thought I had already lost my ability to be drifted by my instinct rather irrationally. But this time I would like to follow my instinct again though the practical obstacles that are in the way seem so formidable to get over, and I cannot totally deny the possibility that this craze may be a product of my illusion (but hopefully not).
10 October 2008 (11 Tishrey 5769)
For the past several weeks my life has revolved around something. I have experienced it twice earlier in my life, but this time its context is totally new to me. It generally occurs once a week. Now I can roughly foresee on which day of the week it occurs, but it can be earlier or later than that day. The moment it happens, I become filled with such excitement and joy, but this feeling does not last long, as I am reminded that I will have to wait another week to experience it next time.
Generally speaking, we feel that time passes slowly when we are waiting for something anxiously. But strangely, this time I cannot help wondering how fast time goes by. While waiting for it, I am consoled by a piece of music closely related to it. Every time I listen to it, I am reminded of that event and can even simulate the feeling I have when it happens.
But this cannot go on for a long time, as I feel that I am consumed by it. I cannot stop thinking about it both awake and asleep. I have what I consider a perfect solution to this agony, but it can be but my illusion. It depends on other factors in order to come true, and each of them seems insurmountable. When I consulted my spiritual mentor, he surprised me with his advice for overcoming all these factors at one blow. It did make perfect sense to me. Actually it will probably be able to solve many other problems in general. Since then I have been trying to prepare this "blow", which is not always controllable at will, believing and praying that I will successfully attain it soon.
17 October 2008 (18 Tishrey 5769)
As far as I understand, Jewish dietary laws guarantee only spiritual health, but not necessarily physical health. You can easily become physically unfit while keeping strictly kosher, depending on what you eat. Unfortunately, there is no lack of examples around me in Israel. Since I came here this time four years ago, my diet has changed gradually but steadily, partly consciously to protect my own body from what I feel the physical harm of the traditional Ashkenazic (kosher) diet, to which I am exposed most frequently when I am invited to meals on Sabbaths and festivals, and partly unconsciously in response to insistent cries from my body.
What characterizes the traditional Ashkenazic diet, at least on Sabbaths and festivals, seems to be its overreliance on oil and sugar - two main sources of harm to our body - probably much more than the diets of the former coterritorial peoples in Eastern Europe. This may be because it has developed from extreme poverty. Oil and sugar are known to be used to enhance low-quality (and often unfresh) raw materials; this tradition persists though Israel now boasts of high-quality raw materials. I do enjoy typical Ashkenazic foods enormously when I eat them, but by the following day my body starts suffering from the outcome.
I am ready to commit this dietary "sin"on special occasions such as Sabbaths and festivals, mainly for the company, but not on a regular basis on weekdays. For the same reason (as well as unreasonably outrageous prices of restaurants here) I seldom eat outside. My daily diet at home has shifted away from what is supposedly common among many people in Israel.
I never liked anything sweet, so even before I came here, I never kept sugar at home, nor ate or drank anything sweet including tea with sugar. Since it is almost impossible to eat anything without oil at someone else's or restaurants, I stopped not only using oil but even keeping it at home a few years ago. There are a few ways of preparing foods healthily and even more deliciously without oil. About a year ago I stopped eating bread at home and switched to rice, though I always preferred the former to the latter all my life since my childhood. In parallel I started using miso and shoyu as the main seasonings. It goes without saying that I never eat meat and chicken at home in whatever way; I made this decision originally for making it easy to keep my kitchen kosher, but now there is another reason. Rather recently I stopped consuming any dairy products, partly after reading rather massively on the web that they are actually harmful to our body, and mainly after realizing that I do not feel like eating them, though I always liked milk and yogurt very much.
The accumulative change that has occurred in my diet in the past four years is quite drastic. The change is visible especially in the past half year. This seems to be correlated with the fact that I resumed swimming and cycling in addition to running, which I have been continuing for more than two decades. I remember that my appetite changed several months after I started running regularly. I assume that my body has become even more sensitive to what I eat. While at home I eat now rice, vegetables, fruits, nuts and fish, but no bread (except on Sabbaths and festivals), meat, chicken, eggs, milk and dairy products; I am neither a vegetarian nor a fanatic (I eat to live and not vice versa!). The only dietary "sin" I make is a rather large quantity of red wine. Those who are used to foods contaminated with oil and sugar may think that I may be suffering from this diet. But on the contrary, I have never enjoyed eating more (nor have ever felt healthier and physically fit) than now (bli ayin hara).
24 October 2008 (25 Tishrey 5769)
What we do first after getting up in the morning can tell us a lot about what we are and affect us for the rest of the day. Some may start a new day with the reading of newspapers, others may rush to eat breakfast before anything else, but more and more people must be turning on their computer almost instinctively in order to check email and their favorite news websites first thing in the morning. I used to be one of these people until last week, but I stopped to ponder upon the effects this daily dose of email and news websites had had upon me. It is true that this nourishment is important for me in that it provides my brain with information about what is changing, but then I wondered if it should be the first kind of nourishment to take every morning on weekdays.
With the restart of the first weekly portion of the Torah this Sunday I have decided to start each new day with something that gives nourishment to my soul. Instead of an electronic dose I first take a dose of the Torah every day now. The focus has switched from what is ephemeral to what is eternal, from information to wisdom. No book can be more suitable for this purpose, especially for a layperson like myself, than A Daily Dose of Torah published by ArtScroll. Each daily dose is composed of "A Torah Thought for the Day", "Mishnah of the Day", "Gems from the Gemara", "A Mussar Thought for the Day", "Halachah of the Day", "A Closer Look at the Siddur", "Question for the Day", and "Taste of Lomdus" (once a week). It takes only less than 20 minutes to read all these short but insightful selections each day. After this spiritual dose I feel far more prepared for davening shakharit/shakhres, which I used to postpone until after an electronic dose and running.
Now I allow myself to receive nourishment for my brain only after taking nourishment for the soul (Torah study and davening) and for the body (running and breakfast, which I resumed taking rather recently - I drink a lot of water and eat a few kinds of fruits). In other words, the order of taking three kinds of nourishment in the morning has changed: it used to be first for the brain, then for the body, and last for the soul, but now it is first for the soul, then for the body, and last for the brain.
It may be too early to decide whether this change is a successful one. But after six days I already feel at least two effects upon myself. One is that I am more focused on what I want and have to do not on that particular day in question or even in life in general. The other is that the transfer to work, which requires my brain more than my soul and body, is far smoother, as the last nourishment I take before starting to work is for my brain. A Daily Dose of Torah is a one-year learning program, so I would like to try this new agenda at least for a year until I reach the last weekly portion of the Torah.
31 October 2008 (2 Kheshvan 5769)
Now I am realizing that someone else's emotional pain can be no less difficult to cope with than my own. If I were struggling with mine, I could have more control over it, telling myself, though not always fully convincingly, that every emotional pain is a furnace that will enable us to grow spiritually, but if someone else is suffering from some emotional pain, I cannot tell her the same; I would sound as if I were happy for her suffering.
Recently I have been witnessing what I can easily imagine as an extreme emotional pain of someone very dear to me. I feel very helpless and frustrated for two reasons: firstly because I cannot be near her physically in the time of her distress because of a tremendous physical distance between our respective places of residence - mere physical existence nearby even in silence could be far more supportive and encouraging than the most eloquent words from afar; secondly because her pain is due to a serious problem of someone else extremely important to her, that is, she herself cannot have control over the cause of her pain, all the less so do I have control over it and her direct and my indirect pains.
Unfortunately, there are not many things I can do from a distance to ease her pain. One is to pray for a happy solution for its cause, and another is to try nevertheless to write words of support and encouragement to her. But if I see that I cannot sit still at home any longer, knowing how much she suffers, I may make a sudden decision with no prior preparation, which is extremely rare for me, to fly to her, even on the same day, in order to support and encourage her by deeds and not (only) by words.