Listening

I ran in silence yesterday on the Heath.

Before I set off, I said to myself just run for an hour without stopping.

And so I did. But I did stop after 40 minutes to look at the swans.

For months now, I’ve been watching them.   I watched the mother swan sit on the nest.  
I watched the eggs hatch.
I watched the baby swans swim.

So I stopped to see how they were doing. 

They were bigger now, still grey and they sailed towards me in a row.

I wasn’t watching alone. 

There was a woman next to me with two small children watching too.

It started to rain gently.

Tiny concentric circles formed on the pond.

The mom said: “look, summer-rain”.

The boy in her arms said quietly: “the sun is crying”

I wasn’t quite sure I heard properly. I asked him to say it again. And he did.

I said; “that’s beautiful”

I was glad that I was there and I was listening.

I was glad I had gone for a run and stopped to see the swans.

I was glad to hear the leaves in the trees.

I was glad to hear the universe talking to itself the only way it can.

I heard the universe again while I was running today.

It was before I even got to the swans.

I ran past a woman sitting on a bench next to the path.

She had no teeth, leathery skin and had little stuffed animals all over her.
She smelled slightly of urine.

She called out to me as I ran past: “Keep going, you’ll get there eventually, wherever there is”

I ran past the entrance to the ladies pond which was finally open again following the death of a woman my age. She had silently sunk into the end of the pond and never came out again.  They found her body at the bottom of the pond the next day.

I borrowed an old swimming costume from the life-guards, changed out of my running things and dived in.

I swam to the far end of the pond, thinking about what the crazy-lady had said.

I was afraid as I swam to the back of the pond.

I imagined monsters pulling my feet down into the darkness.

I forced myself to swim on.

I saw a heron at the back of the pond.

I thought I don’t know where I am going. I have no direction except forward.

I took off the wet swimming costume, dried in the sun, put on my running clothes again and kept running to my car parked at the top of Bishop’s Drive.

On the car radio driving home, I heard the universe again.

It was Jimmy Cliff singing Many Rivers to Cross.

This is what he said:

Many rivers to cross
But I can't seem to find my way over
Wandering I am lost
As I travel along the white cliffs of dover

I wonder what I'll hear next...

Oh, the places you'll go!

I was running with Anton yesterday on an overgrown path near my house.    

Anton is an athlete who was born in South Africa and now lives in London with his wife and two small children.  I listen to Anton. When he tells me to keep up the pace to the top of the hill, I do it even though I want to stop because I trust him.  

I’ve learned so much from him. Yesterday I learned this.

While we were running, I was telling him about my son who seems stuck at home at the moment spending all day in his room - reading, eating and sleeping. And that I couldn’t bear it.

Anton said to me quietly: “Ask him what his PVA is”

He said his high-school computer-science teacher would say that to anyone who came to her with a computer problem. It stands for Plan Van Aksie, which is Afrikaans for Plan of Action.

Got a problem? What’s your Plan van Aksie?

Overweight? Lonely? Bored? Unemployed? Stuck? What’s your PVA?

It means don’t just sit there waiting for the cavalry. Ignore the fear. Overcome the inertia. Just do it.

My favourite book of all time is Charlotte’s Web by EB White. In it, Wilbur the pig is trapped in the barn. He then makes a to-do list which involves food, sleeping and thinking about what it’s like to be alive, but it all falls apart when he realizes it’s not food he wants but love.  

I used to think of Wilbur’s to-do list when I was sitting in my apartment in New York on the 13^th floor, feeling bored and lonely, and too scared to go out into the city.

Dr Seuss calls it The Waiting Place, in his guide to life called Oh, The Places You’ll Go. I was waiting for the fish to bite and waiting for wind to fly a kite. I was too scared to leave the building and find the bright places where the Boom Bands are playing.  I spent a lot of time talking to the doorman, watching TV and eating ice cream before I realized no-one was coming to save me.

There’s something about making a PVA that makes you accountable for what you do. It breaks it down to baby-steps. It’s forgiving, adjustable and yours.

When I came back from my run with Anton, I wrote my PVA. This morning I wrote another. It was very similar to yesterday’s PVA but it has a new addition.

Leave house.

As I write this, my beloved son is sleeping, and regardless of whether or not he wants to do more than spend all day reading and eating, I will be leaving the house.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Many pillars support peace

Jewish grave-site in Mantua, Italy.

Over dinner one night in Mantua, a retired English psychiatrist asked me a question.

I had noticed that earlier he had ordered donkey stew (which I had found strange as we were part of a Jewish group exploring the history of the Jews in Renaissance Italy) 

I didn’t say anything as he went around the group offering everyone tastes of his meaty stew.  I silently ate my mozzarella stuffed courgette flowers, and tried to remain non-judgmental of his choices.

When the next course was served (I had pasta with capers, olives and tuna) he turned to me, pulled out one of the texts we had been studying and asked me to explain what Responsa were.

I told him that they were written over a period of 1,700 years and it’s a form of ask-the-rabbi. I said it covers questions about Halacha mostly in relation to everyday life.

He interrupted me angrily and said: “oh you mean like women showing their used tampons to their rabbi’s to see if they were ok. I read about it in a novel”

I had one of those moments when you don’t know which way is up, when the floor seems to fall away from your feet. I was speechless.  I wasn’t shocked by a man talking about women’s periods at the table.  I was shocked that his entire perspective on the issue was from one source. He didn’t want to listen to me at all.

I’ve read the novel he referred to. It’s about a woman straining to be free from Haredi society. I can’t remember much about it other than it wasn’t profound or well-written.

But that was all he was preferred to hear. And it’s such a loss to him. There are thousands of songs in our world. By choosing to hear one, you miss out on a rich and beautiful range.

I wish I had said the Responsa show the nuanced, multifaceted voices of many people on many issues. They are a window into an ancient world, and when we look through it, we can see how we are still connected.

Women’s galleries were all he saw in the beautiful, abandoned old synagogues in Northern Italy. His entire Jewish experience was around the need to liberate traditional Jewish women from perceived oppression.

That isn’t the way I see it. I have many encounters with deeply enlightened Haredi women today.  And their intelligence, love of life and respect for the other is also a joy to encounter. The women I have met don’t seem to need saving from their oppression.  They struggle with the same issues I struggle with.  Again and again, we both see that although we wear different clothes, we are the same underneath.  

If I learned anything about the Renaissance on my Jewish Journey, it was what I learned about dialogue with the other.

that the face of truth has many facets

And that in truth, there is no other.

I hope one day to sit down quietly and talk to the retired English psychiatrist about Responsa.

I hope he hears what I have to say.

And it is this:

We are all connected in the space between paradigms.

And that before we start liberating anyone else, 

we should start with liberating ourselves.

If I ever got a tattoo this is what it would say

A text, a post-it, a painting and a play

My daughter sent me a text when I started a new assignment. She said I love you. Remember you have blue eyes.

Blue eyes is code between us. It means your gift is nothing personal.

That thing you do that makes you feel alive and in the flow is entirely neutral.

We’ve taken to calling it blue eyes because my eyes happen to be blue and that's a fact. And just like everyone has different abilities, everyone has eyes of some colour or another. It's not like I'm going to go to work and all of a sudden I won't have blue eyes. I can count on it, every time.

It only gets confusing when I make it mean something like proof that I’m worthy, special, employable. It's only when I focus on the outcome, that I get lost.

So I wrote this on a post-It and stuck it to my phone:

Hew wood. Draw water.

It’s a reminder that it doesn’t really matter what it is.  Just do what is in front of you.

If it’s bringing out the best in a person, or telling a story, or conveying a new idea, or bringing order to chaos, or making connections, or solving a problem, or joining the dots, or dancing, or writing, or creating, or finding consensus, or leading a team or making things look pretty, or growing things, or baking bread, or making shoes, or making movies, just do it.

It doesn’t matter what the outcome is. There is no meaning in your ability to do it.

Being rich or happy or successful or making a difference is not the point of your blue eyes. There is no point. There is only do.  

This is how Barbara Kruger says it:

This is how Yoda says it:

YODA: Use the Force. Yes...
Now...the stone. Feel it.
Concentrate!
So certain are you. Always with you it cannot be done. Hear you
nothing that I say?

LUKE: Master, moving stones around is one thing. This is totally
different.

YODA: No! No different! Only different in your mind. You must unlearn
what you have learned.

LUKE: (focusing, quietly) All right, I'll give it a try.

YODA: No! Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try.

LUKE: (panting heavily) I can't. It's too big.

YODA: Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hm?
Mmmm. And well you should not. For my ally is the Force. And a
powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. It's energy
surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we...(Yoda pinches
Luke's shoulder)...not this crude matter. (a sweeping gesture) You must
feel the Force around you. (gesturing) Here, between you...me...the
tree...the rock...everywhere! Yes, even between this land and that
ship!

LUKE: (discouraged) You want the impossible.

Quietly Yoda turns toward the X-wing fighter. With his eyes
closed and his head bowed, he raises his arm and points at the
ship.
Soon, the fighter rises above the water and moves forward
as Artoo beeps in terror and scoots away.

LUKE: I don't...I don't believe it.

YODA: That is why you fail.

The man who came fourth

Last night, I watched a slight man in a team GB t-shirt reach a finish line before any of the 29 men that had started with him less than half an hour beforehand.

It was beyond exciting to see Mo Farrah win the Gold Medal in the 10 000m in the London 2012 Olympic Games.

I liked it even more when he said after the race: “It’s never going to get any better than this. It’s something I’ve worked so hard for, training 120 miles a week, week in and week out. Long distance is a lonely event. I just got to enjoy this moment I guess”

Apparently two best friends came first and second and two brothers came third and fourth.  
Until yesterday, I didn’t know much more than that about athletics, so I didn’t really notice the guy that came fourth.

This morning I was talking to Anton, who knows a lot about athletics. He told me what he knew about the guy who came fourth.  The rest I found on YouTube.

Kenenisa Bekele is an athlete from Ethiopia who knows a lot of things. He knows what it’s like to reach a finish line before anyone else. He knows what it’s like to win two gold Olympic medals for the 10 000 meters and one gold medal for the 5000 meters. He knows what it’s like to set and hold the world record for both events.

He knows what it’s like to fall in love and have your fiancé die in your arms on a training run.
He knows what it’s like to dominate a sport for over ten years and then rupture a muscle and see your career grind to a slow halt.

He’s a shy, quiet person with incredible focus and peace of mind. In an interview before the race he was asked if he was worried about Mo Farrah. He said:” I don’t worry. I enjoy it lots. I will try to do my best”

That’s all we can ever do.

Yesterday it was in the power of Mo Farrah to run 27 minutes and 30 seconds.
And it was in the power of Kenenisa Bekele to run 27 minutes and 32 seconds.

It’s just two seconds of a life of moments that are strung together like a rope. If you focus on the end of the rope, you’ll miss the point.

The only way to approach it is to keep your head down and do what is in your power to do. Don’t think about winning gold, about crossing finishing lines or about what it all means.

Our lives change all the time.

Only two things don't change: the connected, intact and infinite spirit inside us. And that moment by moment, we only have this time now.