Dear Birthright,
The first time I wrote about Birthright I was hopeful. I was inspired by friends and family supporting me in my quest to finally have this inclusive Israel experience that so many of my peers have had. I thought that my application would be looked at holistically and it would be taken into consideration what I experienced in Israel beyond how many days I'd spent there. I have been completely honest in my application because I believe in what Birthright can be, an opportunity for Jewish young adults to experience Israel with their peers and build a relationship with the land.
I am no longer hopeful. Nor inspired. I'm disappointed.
And it doesn't have to do with whether I will actually get to go on Birthright or not. I'm disappointed because I don't believe you're living up to your potential. As I work toward my Masters degree and plan to work in higher education (i.e. with the same age group you cater to) I understand better the opportunities for growth and development in students. Something I believe Birthright should be taking advantage of rather than neglecting.
Shortly before Pesach I was interviewed for Birthright and subsequently received an e-mail offering me a spot on an Israel Free Spirit trip. I paid the $260 that was asked of me with trepidation. Don't get me wrong, I was thrilled. But I'd gone through this process once before and then been denied. I didn't want to get my hopes up. As the weeks passed I became more excited at the idea of getting to see parts of Israel I've only heard stories about. I feel a deep relationship with Judaism but I do not believe Israel is my home. This is ironic now that the ADL has come out with a report claiming that the most stereotypical belief about Jews is that we care more about Israel than about our home country. And at least for this Jew, that is not the case. Sure the country matters to me in the sense that my religion has a strong history there and I have many friends living there. But I do not prioritize it over my actual, physical home.
A few weeks ago I received a phone call telling me that my eligibility was still being determined and at the end of the conversation when I pressed for more information, they said I should hear back in 1-2 weeks. I continue to receive e-mails asking me to complete my secondary application and last week when I tried to log in, my password would not work. This is exactly how I was "denied" the first time I applied when I had only been on March of the Living. The trip I applied for a few months after another "March" alum had participated. I needed to be the one to call Birthright to find out why my application was locked.
I'm not going to call this time. I know what this passive-aggressive statement means. And this time, I'm older and maybe a bit wiser. I'm not angry or upset like that first time. My Jewish identity has not taken a turn for the worse. And I harbor no ill feeling toward Israel.
But I am disappointed in you, Birthright. According to the new eligibility requirements (from what I can understand), people who went on Ramah Seminar can go on Birthright. People who have an Israeli passport and/or visit every summer can go on Birthright. People who have a Jewish parent can go on Birthright because they know to answer the question "Do you identify as Jewish" with the answer you're looking for. It is for this reason that so many people view Birthright as just a "free trip to Israel" as opposed to being an educational trip about identity, history, and a special country. It is for this reason that I've heard stories about how on certain provider trips everyone drinks all night and sleeps on the bus as they drive past historic and beautiful landscapes.
"We believe that the experience of a trip to Israel is a building block of Jewish identity, and that by providing that gift to young Jews, we can strengthen bonds with the land and people of Israel and solidarity with Jewish communities worldwide." This is a quote from Birthright's website. I believe that this is the vision of Birthright but I do not think that, in its current form, you are living up to this goal. My Jewish identity is rooted in my family and local community. My Jewish identity has grown due to my love of traditions and culture. My Jewish identity has but a vague connection to Israel.
You may have noticed that this time I did not address you as Taglit unlike in my first message (you probably didn't notice). According to your website, Taglit means "discovery". And I discovered quite a bit in the process of trying to further discover Israel. But the best discovery is that while Israel may not be the place I'm destined to visit again, I have so many other valuable connections to Judaism. My religion has shaped who I am and who I hope to be, both professionally and personally.
I don't expect to hear from Birthright again for a while. It will be a frustrating process getting my deposit back, which doesn't seem right considering that I don't understand why I was offered a spot if my eligibility had not been determined. And since I won't be voluntarily giving up my spot, I believe I'm entitled to all $260 of my deposit.
We'll see what happens but I've actually reached a point where I'm just not as interested in going at all. If whether I can go hinges on if I was on JNF for 7 days instead of 6, that's just not the kind of organization I want to support.
Thank you, Birthright, for your attentiveness to detail.
Faded Pencil Musings
Lined paper. Pencil shavings. Introspection.
Thursday, May 15, 2014
Monday, April 21, 2014
Diagnoses
I realized just before Passover that it had been about 5 years since my Dad was declared cancer free. And maybe it was because of the type of cancer he had but I realized that we had never really acknowledged his fight.
I remember when my parents told me and my sister about his diagnosis. It was at breakfast. My entire immediate family was at the table and my parents said they had something to tell us. And my first reaction was "well have you looked at what the ACS says about it?" Can you blame me? I was interning for them at the time. I defaulted to that. Rather than let my emotions do anything. They told us when the surgery was scheduled. Told us about how early it had been caught. How it was in the early stages and the chance of successful recovery was essentially 100%.
And when I realized it had been 5 years, I realized that the 100% chance recovery rate had allowed us to diminish what we experienced. Sure, it wasn't what many others have suffered through but it was by no means easy.
After we left that breakfast table, I locked myself in the bathroom and called my best friend. I remember sitting on the floor crying. Choking out the words. The hushed silence on the other end as she listened. The immediate "I'm on my way". My reassurance that it wasn't necessary and yet the overwhelming love I felt for someone unrelated to me who was about to drop everything. And for something that had an almost 100% chance of success.
I remember the long hours spent in the hospital waiting room. As we drove there we could see the moon above the city. We watched the sun move to the other side of the building through the wall of windows. I remember when we first saw him after the surgery. The days immediately after. The months that passed when he was still recovering and I was half way around the world.
Even now, 5 years later there are remnants of what changed since his surgery. But I am so thankful that I still have my dad. And no matter how his cancer was compared to others' I wanted to take time to acknowledge the time that has passed. And our family Passover seder was such a wonderful opportunity. On a holiday (my favorite) when we celebrate freedom and survival against the odds, a holiday that we spend with family to recall past stories, this was the ideal chance to reflect on 5 years being cancer free.
I could not be more blessed.
I remember when my parents told me and my sister about his diagnosis. It was at breakfast. My entire immediate family was at the table and my parents said they had something to tell us. And my first reaction was "well have you looked at what the ACS says about it?" Can you blame me? I was interning for them at the time. I defaulted to that. Rather than let my emotions do anything. They told us when the surgery was scheduled. Told us about how early it had been caught. How it was in the early stages and the chance of successful recovery was essentially 100%.
And when I realized it had been 5 years, I realized that the 100% chance recovery rate had allowed us to diminish what we experienced. Sure, it wasn't what many others have suffered through but it was by no means easy.
After we left that breakfast table, I locked myself in the bathroom and called my best friend. I remember sitting on the floor crying. Choking out the words. The hushed silence on the other end as she listened. The immediate "I'm on my way". My reassurance that it wasn't necessary and yet the overwhelming love I felt for someone unrelated to me who was about to drop everything. And for something that had an almost 100% chance of success.
I remember the long hours spent in the hospital waiting room. As we drove there we could see the moon above the city. We watched the sun move to the other side of the building through the wall of windows. I remember when we first saw him after the surgery. The days immediately after. The months that passed when he was still recovering and I was half way around the world.
Even now, 5 years later there are remnants of what changed since his surgery. But I am so thankful that I still have my dad. And no matter how his cancer was compared to others' I wanted to take time to acknowledge the time that has passed. And our family Passover seder was such a wonderful opportunity. On a holiday (my favorite) when we celebrate freedom and survival against the odds, a holiday that we spend with family to recall past stories, this was the ideal chance to reflect on 5 years being cancer free.
I could not be more blessed.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Returned to Facebook. Leaving again.
I spent the last 5 weeks of 2013 off of Facebook. I didn't deactivate it, I didn't unfriend everyone, I just logged out. And in the two months that I've been back on, I have a new appreciation for how much better off I was without it. Sure it was great to have Facebook Message as a way of keeping in touch with people although I prefer gchat or (I know I'm a dinosaur) hand written letters. There are many conversations with friends both near and far that are sustained through this medium. And I also find myself more often getting news about the world from Facebook. Plus I'm able to keep up with what's going on with friends and even just for wishing people a happy birthday. So yes, Facebook has its perks but not being on it was unremarkable. If anything I was used to having to explain my ongoing battle with technology since I am regularly questioned about not having a smartphone.
The issue is that so many people do use it as a forum for contact and so to disappear from Facebook meant that some of the less stable relationships I have with people are now just fringe relationships. Granted, if I need to be on Facebook to maintain any relationship, well that's actually not a relationship I consider worth working on. But at the same time I have always been the person who tries to keep in touch, if a person has touched my life in some way then he/she is forever of significance to me.
I doubt I'll ever go off of Facebook for such a long stretch of time in the near future. But I'm going to occasionally do purges because I found it to be a grounding experience despite having to explain it to everyone. Honestly, part of why I won't do it for weeks at a time again is because it was really annoying when I suddenly started receiving e-mails from Facebook every third day telling me what I was "missing" such as messages, notifications, and status updates. I remarked to one friend that it was like having a needy ex, I was taken for granted while I was just there but then a few days later once Facebook realized I was serious about taking a break it was all "...but I love you. Come back to me."
For now I'm going to take my smartphone-less self off Facebook again, only for a week this time. I'm lacking almost all technological devices so I'll still - unfortunately - be logged on everywhere but oh well, I'll just ignore it. See y'all in a week!
The issue is that so many people do use it as a forum for contact and so to disappear from Facebook meant that some of the less stable relationships I have with people are now just fringe relationships. Granted, if I need to be on Facebook to maintain any relationship, well that's actually not a relationship I consider worth working on. But at the same time I have always been the person who tries to keep in touch, if a person has touched my life in some way then he/she is forever of significance to me.
I doubt I'll ever go off of Facebook for such a long stretch of time in the near future. But I'm going to occasionally do purges because I found it to be a grounding experience despite having to explain it to everyone. Honestly, part of why I won't do it for weeks at a time again is because it was really annoying when I suddenly started receiving e-mails from Facebook every third day telling me what I was "missing" such as messages, notifications, and status updates. I remarked to one friend that it was like having a needy ex, I was taken for granted while I was just there but then a few days later once Facebook realized I was serious about taking a break it was all "...but I love you. Come back to me."
For now I'm going to take my smartphone-less self off Facebook again, only for a week this time. I'm lacking almost all technological devices so I'll still - unfortunately - be logged on everywhere but oh well, I'll just ignore it. See y'all in a week!
Sunday, February 2, 2014
An Open Letter to Taglit-Birthright Israel
Shalom Taglit,
A few weeks ago I was told by a few people that according to the new rules, I'm eligible to go on Birthright. Only days before my 26th birthday the changes allow a new set of Jewish young adults to experience Israel in a very special way. And yet amidst all the text messages and conversations that followed I continued to ask "but am I really?" Because I'm still not sure, I can only hope.
In 2007 I applied for the winter Birthright trip through my undergraduate institution. I was completely honest on my application and a few days after first starting my application, my account was locked. A quick call to Birthright informed me that my participation on March of the Living a year and a half prior made me ineligible, a new rule they had just implemented for this coming series of trips but hadn't publicized. On March I had spent a week in Israel primarily focused on discussing how the Shoah had resulted in a homeland for the Jewish diaspora. We had just spent a week in Poland and at 18 years young I was overwhelmed and still reeling from the emotional journey. My first memories of Israel are tinged with memories of "Never Again".
In the years since learning that I could not go on Birthright, I watched my friends explore and experience Israel like I've never seen. They told me stories of climbing Masada at dawn and looking out over Syria from the Golan Heights. They told me about waking up in a Bedouin tent and spending the trip getting to know Israelis who had just completed their time in the army. They told me about riding camels and watching their new friends finally become a b'nai mitzvah.
I have been to Israel a few times in my life now since March of the Living, however each trip was geared toward a specific purpose, one which could have been served in any country. And so, since learning about the new rules, I've been thinking about what the purpose of Birthright truly is. It cannot simply be about a free trip to Israel, there is surely more to it. Yet it seems that Jewish young adults who have spent a significant amount of time in Israel prior to college and even Israeli dual-citizens can participate if they have not been on a trip that follows certain parameters. I don't know if the trips I've been on fall into those parameters but I do believe that the original and key purpose of Birthright is to create a particular connection with Israel, one that I do not believe I have.
Those experiences I mentioned earlier that my friends told me about, I have experienced none of them. I read articles occasionally that my friends post on social media about Israel but I analyze them the same way as articles about the political situation in the United States, with a certain amount of disillusionment. I continuously hear twice a year about this connection with Israel that is inherently tied with going on Birthright, a connection that I cannot relate to. As a Jewish young adult I feel more disconnected from Israel in part because I have not been able to join my peers in these conversations about a land that I'm told is my home.
Growing up in an interracial household, I constantly have to explain my Jewish identity. And while I am extremely proud of who I am and where I come from, it makes me wonder where I belong among my fellow Jews. Combined with having never had this experience of Birthright that so many others have had, I continuously struggle with my connection, or lack thereof, to Israel. Is it just another country where many of my friends visit/live or would it be my home should I choose for it to be?
Opening the eligibility requirements to more Jewish young adults provides a beautiful opportunity for many more to connect to Israel in a way that is unique to the Birthright experience. And I hope, humbly, that I might be among them so that I may finally view this country through a new pair of eyes.
Lehitra'ot,
Sarah
A few weeks ago I was told by a few people that according to the new rules, I'm eligible to go on Birthright. Only days before my 26th birthday the changes allow a new set of Jewish young adults to experience Israel in a very special way. And yet amidst all the text messages and conversations that followed I continued to ask "but am I really?" Because I'm still not sure, I can only hope.
In 2007 I applied for the winter Birthright trip through my undergraduate institution. I was completely honest on my application and a few days after first starting my application, my account was locked. A quick call to Birthright informed me that my participation on March of the Living a year and a half prior made me ineligible, a new rule they had just implemented for this coming series of trips but hadn't publicized. On March I had spent a week in Israel primarily focused on discussing how the Shoah had resulted in a homeland for the Jewish diaspora. We had just spent a week in Poland and at 18 years young I was overwhelmed and still reeling from the emotional journey. My first memories of Israel are tinged with memories of "Never Again".
In the years since learning that I could not go on Birthright, I watched my friends explore and experience Israel like I've never seen. They told me stories of climbing Masada at dawn and looking out over Syria from the Golan Heights. They told me about waking up in a Bedouin tent and spending the trip getting to know Israelis who had just completed their time in the army. They told me about riding camels and watching their new friends finally become a b'nai mitzvah.
I have been to Israel a few times in my life now since March of the Living, however each trip was geared toward a specific purpose, one which could have been served in any country. And so, since learning about the new rules, I've been thinking about what the purpose of Birthright truly is. It cannot simply be about a free trip to Israel, there is surely more to it. Yet it seems that Jewish young adults who have spent a significant amount of time in Israel prior to college and even Israeli dual-citizens can participate if they have not been on a trip that follows certain parameters. I don't know if the trips I've been on fall into those parameters but I do believe that the original and key purpose of Birthright is to create a particular connection with Israel, one that I do not believe I have.
Those experiences I mentioned earlier that my friends told me about, I have experienced none of them. I read articles occasionally that my friends post on social media about Israel but I analyze them the same way as articles about the political situation in the United States, with a certain amount of disillusionment. I continuously hear twice a year about this connection with Israel that is inherently tied with going on Birthright, a connection that I cannot relate to. As a Jewish young adult I feel more disconnected from Israel in part because I have not been able to join my peers in these conversations about a land that I'm told is my home.
Growing up in an interracial household, I constantly have to explain my Jewish identity. And while I am extremely proud of who I am and where I come from, it makes me wonder where I belong among my fellow Jews. Combined with having never had this experience of Birthright that so many others have had, I continuously struggle with my connection, or lack thereof, to Israel. Is it just another country where many of my friends visit/live or would it be my home should I choose for it to be?
Opening the eligibility requirements to more Jewish young adults provides a beautiful opportunity for many more to connect to Israel in a way that is unique to the Birthright experience. And I hope, humbly, that I might be among them so that I may finally view this country through a new pair of eyes.
Lehitra'ot,
Sarah
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Being Thankful
Over the last few weeks I've felt surrounded by talk about Thanksgivukkah and Black Friday. While this isn't a bad thing, it's left me thinking constantly about what we're supposed to be celebrating as opposed to what we're actually celebrating.
While there are obvious issues with Thanksgiving (i.e. the terrible treatment of the Native Americans), I can appreciate that the modern holiday is supposedly focused around being thankful for everything that we have. It's a chance for everyone to slow down and spend time with loved ones. Then there's Hanukkah, a holiday that I think has meaningful lessons revolving around overcoming against the odds (the Maccabees' success) and making the best of what we have because sometimes it turns out to be enough (the miracle of the oil).
I can get behind these values - but sadly it seems most of this is forgotten or glossed over. Thanksgivukkah has become as commercialized as each separate holiday and we've become so obsessed with the "coolness" factor of this occurrence that we've missed many opportunities for great conversations about what it means for these holidays to coincide.
And of course, Black Friday is an overshadowing cloud. At a time when we talk about being grateful for what we have, many people will be forced to leave their families early to go work so that the rest of us can storm the malls after mapping out everything we need during dinner. I've never been a fan of Black Friday because I generally dislike our consumerist society but in recent years I've become more disgusted by corporations and the lengths they will go to make money. Side note: This is not a holier-than-thou rant, I acknowledge my consumerism and do desire materialistic things but I am not driven by my want of things and I definitely don't view them as needs.
Surprisingly however, it was a random Facebook post that actually led me to decide to go on a Facebook hiatus until 2014. A friend of mine was traveling and visited a national park that I'm sure is filled with natural beauty. The Facebook post said something about enjoying the view and how oddly there was cell service. Look, I understand most people use their phones as cameras now but why why why did noticing cell service mean that a Facebook status had to comment on that? Just because it was there? Who cares? Why not just enjoy the view and not feel like you have to get your online persona to share it with the world?
We, myself included, are behind screens just too damn much. I sit at a computer almost all day just to go home and do the same except this time it's for "pleasure". Now in some regards I don't have a choice. I'm in grad school and by nature that means I'm on my computer reading, researching, writing, etc. But even when I'm not doing those things I feel like I'm constantly tied to a device. I know that not going on Facebook isn't going to necessarily change anything but I expect that it will change me.
I want to live in the moment. I want to be thankful for what I have. I want to remember that sometimes the underdog can come out on top. I want to be happy with what I have and make the most of it. And I want to have and do all of these things without feeling the need to "tell" people about it, without feeling like I've been "heard" because of a red notification flag.
So maybe it's silly but I've been hyper aware of my usage of social media since I became "that person" in both of my jobs. Not only will I start spending more time doing things that serve an actual purpose but it'll get me to think more about what really matters. And at the very least it'll be an experiment in self-discipline.
Happy Thanksgiving! Hanukkah Sameach! Wishing you a happy, healthy, enjoyable holiday. Let's spend it being thankful.
While there are obvious issues with Thanksgiving (i.e. the terrible treatment of the Native Americans), I can appreciate that the modern holiday is supposedly focused around being thankful for everything that we have. It's a chance for everyone to slow down and spend time with loved ones. Then there's Hanukkah, a holiday that I think has meaningful lessons revolving around overcoming against the odds (the Maccabees' success) and making the best of what we have because sometimes it turns out to be enough (the miracle of the oil).
I can get behind these values - but sadly it seems most of this is forgotten or glossed over. Thanksgivukkah has become as commercialized as each separate holiday and we've become so obsessed with the "coolness" factor of this occurrence that we've missed many opportunities for great conversations about what it means for these holidays to coincide.
And of course, Black Friday is an overshadowing cloud. At a time when we talk about being grateful for what we have, many people will be forced to leave their families early to go work so that the rest of us can storm the malls after mapping out everything we need during dinner. I've never been a fan of Black Friday because I generally dislike our consumerist society but in recent years I've become more disgusted by corporations and the lengths they will go to make money. Side note: This is not a holier-than-thou rant, I acknowledge my consumerism and do desire materialistic things but I am not driven by my want of things and I definitely don't view them as needs.
Surprisingly however, it was a random Facebook post that actually led me to decide to go on a Facebook hiatus until 2014. A friend of mine was traveling and visited a national park that I'm sure is filled with natural beauty. The Facebook post said something about enjoying the view and how oddly there was cell service. Look, I understand most people use their phones as cameras now but why why why did noticing cell service mean that a Facebook status had to comment on that? Just because it was there? Who cares? Why not just enjoy the view and not feel like you have to get your online persona to share it with the world?
We, myself included, are behind screens just too damn much. I sit at a computer almost all day just to go home and do the same except this time it's for "pleasure". Now in some regards I don't have a choice. I'm in grad school and by nature that means I'm on my computer reading, researching, writing, etc. But even when I'm not doing those things I feel like I'm constantly tied to a device. I know that not going on Facebook isn't going to necessarily change anything but I expect that it will change me.
I want to live in the moment. I want to be thankful for what I have. I want to remember that sometimes the underdog can come out on top. I want to be happy with what I have and make the most of it. And I want to have and do all of these things without feeling the need to "tell" people about it, without feeling like I've been "heard" because of a red notification flag.
So maybe it's silly but I've been hyper aware of my usage of social media since I became "that person" in both of my jobs. Not only will I start spending more time doing things that serve an actual purpose but it'll get me to think more about what really matters. And at the very least it'll be an experiment in self-discipline.
Happy Thanksgiving! Hanukkah Sameach! Wishing you a happy, healthy, enjoyable holiday. Let's spend it being thankful.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Experiment
Being in graduate school has been fulfilling in ways I can't describe and yet I have felt like I'm missing something. I went from simply working full-time to attending school part-time and working two part-time jobs. Needless to say, I essentially feel like I don't have a life because I'm being pulled in so many different directions and yet I wouldn't have it any other way right now. That being said, I have had to put a limit on activities I previously had time for due to the demands of these many responsibilities I've taken on. And while I occasionally try to make time for other things, I have missed a project I was part of last year.
For a while I was part of a movement called More Love Letters (check it out here). While I enjoyed it for the most part there were certain things I wasn't a huge fan of, and after they made a few changes - combined with how busy I got with grad school and two jobs - I stopped actively participating. Recently I've been feeling that mid-end of semester stress coming on and I've been looking for outlets. I continue to use my typically outlets on and off there is still something missing. I was looking through all the mail that's accumulated at my parents house since the last time I was there yesterday and there is just so much junk. For every piece of personal mail there was at least 10-15 pieces of mail that would've been better off remaining part of a tree. And that's about when I realized what I wanted to do for when I need to break up the endless grind that is grad school: I want to write to people.
Most of my family and friends know that I was born into the wrong generation. I rehabilitated an old turntable and have been slowly accumulating records. I have a phone that is only good for calling and texting (and even mass texting doesn't really work on it). I just bought a women's pocket watch. I like reading and knitting. And I really like handwritten letters. So I'm asking for help with this project because unlike MLL where I would be writing to strangers, I want to write to people that I care about. And while I do think that sometimes we need strangers to help us along our path, I also think that knowing someone and being able to write something for him/her specifically is special in its own way.
Here's how it'll work: If you want some snail mail, I will send you something before my next birthday but I'm not going to tell you when I'm sending it so it'll be somewhat of a surprise. To get a letter, e-mail me with your mailing address using the subject "Letter Experiment". If you don't know my personal e-mail address, be resourceful and find a way to get it from me. You can include if there's anything in particular you think I should know prior to my writing to you but you don't have to. Also since I'm giving myself a deadline, I'm taking requests through Thanksgiving Day, November 28th. I don't expect to have to cap it but should I get more than 20 responses, I'm gonna have to cut it off at that. Actually no, I'll cap it at 26.
I don't know what to expect from this experiment but if I can make even just one person's day between now and my birthday it'll make me really happy.
For a while I was part of a movement called More Love Letters (check it out here). While I enjoyed it for the most part there were certain things I wasn't a huge fan of, and after they made a few changes - combined with how busy I got with grad school and two jobs - I stopped actively participating. Recently I've been feeling that mid-end of semester stress coming on and I've been looking for outlets. I continue to use my typically outlets on and off there is still something missing. I was looking through all the mail that's accumulated at my parents house since the last time I was there yesterday and there is just so much junk. For every piece of personal mail there was at least 10-15 pieces of mail that would've been better off remaining part of a tree. And that's about when I realized what I wanted to do for when I need to break up the endless grind that is grad school: I want to write to people.
Most of my family and friends know that I was born into the wrong generation. I rehabilitated an old turntable and have been slowly accumulating records. I have a phone that is only good for calling and texting (and even mass texting doesn't really work on it). I just bought a women's pocket watch. I like reading and knitting. And I really like handwritten letters. So I'm asking for help with this project because unlike MLL where I would be writing to strangers, I want to write to people that I care about. And while I do think that sometimes we need strangers to help us along our path, I also think that knowing someone and being able to write something for him/her specifically is special in its own way.
Here's how it'll work: If you want some snail mail, I will send you something before my next birthday but I'm not going to tell you when I'm sending it so it'll be somewhat of a surprise. To get a letter, e-mail me with your mailing address using the subject "Letter Experiment". If you don't know my personal e-mail address, be resourceful and find a way to get it from me. You can include if there's anything in particular you think I should know prior to my writing to you but you don't have to. Also since I'm giving myself a deadline, I'm taking requests through Thanksgiving Day, November 28th. I don't expect to have to cap it but should I get more than 20 responses, I'm gonna have to cut it off at that. Actually no, I'll cap it at 26.
I don't know what to expect from this experiment but if I can make even just one person's day between now and my birthday it'll make me really happy.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Judging
I recently said to someone "don't judge me" after I'd sent them something to read. And now that a few days have passed, I've been thinking about why I chose to say that. And it comes down to vulnerability. I was nervous to share it and that's why I reacted with fear of judgment. No one likes to feel like they're being judged, but as that thought crossed my mind another one contradicted it. People who are not confident, people who are unsure of what they're sharing, people who are trying to impress someone, people who are afraid of being vulnerable - these are the people who don't like being judged.
I was comfortable with these thoughts I'd had but sharing them made me vulnerable. And that fear was why I reacted with that phrase. What I meant was, I'm afraid that sharing this with you will permanently alter how you view me and will change our relationship.
The thing is - when it comes to people I care about, I should be comfortable enough with myself and with our friendship not to say that. And if it's someone I don't care about or if it negatively impacts that friendship - well then who cares? I respect my friends and that needs to go both ways which means that my real friends won't judge me. At least they won't judge me in a negative way like what is implied from requesting judgement be withheld.
The world can judge me all it likes. The best people for me will love me because of who I am regardless. While it is hard to be vulnerable and even harder to see friendships change or go, the right people will be a part of my life. The rest I don't need.
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