“What you don’t know would make a great book.” – Sydney Smith (English writer and cleric)
Some years ago – the detail of the moment is now lost to me – a thought sprouted in my psyche telling me to explore various religions. The idea kept growing – the idea to immerse myself in six of the major religions of the world like a convert, one year at a time, and to write about my journey. Knowing this would be a consuming endeavor, I waited until I retired from my careers as a police lieutenant and adjunct college instructor before I began. This left me years to ponder the idea. The thought grew from an idea into an obsession.
My “Year One” began last October, with Judaism. I had a faint notion that I would be mentored under the wise counsel of a rabbi, taken in by a synagogue, learn and experience and pray and feel the religion of the Jewish people. The vision felt clear, but its details were murky.
The experiences have thus far been many: many moments of laughter, love, curiosity, frustration, shyness, courage and a great deal of thought; thought about my exploration and the experiences I have had thus far as well as those to come, but also a great deal of thought about what to write about my journey. I have called the exploration of Judaism a rabbit hole. Like Alice in Wonderland, each mystery unfolded leads to other mysteries leads to other mysteries – and so on and so on and so on. This has created a two-fold problem for my writing.
My first challenge is time. Time is precious. Where do I devote my time? My partner Cynthia, grandson Jay and son Zach are a given. My relationship with Cynthia comes first and foremost. (Thankfully, she supports the time I need to walk this path. Sometimes she joins me, and many times I am alone amongst the company of tens or hundreds of strangers.) Then there is “me time”: meditation, exercise, nutrition, sleep, pleasure reading. Time with family must be built in: my family, Cynthia’s family – all so important to us both. My friends are also precious to me. I must make time for them, as well. Our dogs, Kali and Athena, our cats, Nala and Scooter, all require time and attention. Our houses need upkeep. Bills need to be paid. Medical appointments need to be made and attended.
How do I work into this maze of commitments time to experience Judaism, research Judaism, read about Judaism, and write about Judaism? As my short list of blog followers can attest, I have done a mighty poor job with this indeed. What was intended to be a monthly blog has turned into two blogs in five months. Yet, the time constraints feel like the lesser of the two-fold writing problem. The second seems to be a much higher and steeper mountain to climb.
About what do I write? What will readers want to read? What will create an incentive for them to give up their own precious time? Do I describe the interior of the synagogues I visit? Do I quote the inspiring words of the rabbis and other spiritual leaders? Do I quote books? Do I teach as I write? The words of my friend Carson Johns, a public speaker and personal growth facilitator, come to mind as I hear him explaining the root of the word education – the Latin Educo: to draw out from within. My journey through this vast and fascinating religion and what it means to me is all I can share. It is up to me to find the theme, the thread, with which I will weave my writing.
Like the perfectionist that I am, however, I don’t want to just write, I want to write well. I want to go deep. I want to channel Anne Lamott and Cheryl Strayed and Elizabeth Gilbert through my heart and mind, out my hands and onto the page. I desire to be a writer who opens up her heart and soul to her readers, who can then use those experiences as a lens through which they deepen the meaning of their own lives. How do I do this? In his memoir On Writing, Stephen King gives the following advice: “If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.” Read and write, write and read. What about walk the dog, play with my grandson, cook dinner, run errands, make love? What about writing workshops and books on writing? What about Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style? Shouldn’t I memorize Elements of Style?
In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott says to simply write your “shitty first draft.” Just get it on paper. She didn’t say how many drafts are allowed, although she did say perfectionism will ruin my writing. (Yes, of course she was talking to me.)
So, with this blog that has nothing to do with the Torah or Passover or Shabbat or eating Kosher, I practice letting go of my perfectionism. You get to decide if this was my shitty first draft or my 10th. And while you are pondering that, feel free to let me know what would excite YOU in a book about my year of Judaism. I would love to hear from you.
Shalom!
Exactly that.
Honest and open. We all struggle with these questions if time and desires. Great post.
Look at Cheryl Strayed and Elizabeth Gilbert. They wrote their path. They went here and this happened, and brought this thought and that feeling. I find thesestories so much more compelling than exposition. If there is something that touched you, quote it, or write about it. Talk about your shyness, the groups of 10 or 100. If the inside of the synagogue touches you somehow, write about how it touched you. It will be great!
Great post! I really enjoy your writing because of its sincerity. I think most of us struggle with vulnerability as they go through their daily lives (I know that I do)and I commend your authentic and courageous topics.
I think courage could be a theme as you might discuss all the opportunities for courage as you embarked on this first journey through Judaism and then how it paid off. What practices spoke to you so deeply that you will continue them for as long as it feels right.
Keep writing. Love you!