Ask Chaviva Anything: Advice Before Making Aliyah

Here's a doozy, but one that's shockingly simple for me to answer at this point in my life. I know my answers probably sound grumpy and jaded, but less than two years in Israel made me more of a realist than I was before.

What are your top 5 pieces of advice for someone considering making aliyah?

1. Save money. Save lots of money. Make sure you have enough money on hand to live for at least a year (that means rent, childcare expenses, grocery expenses, healthcare incidentals, buying a car, insurance, you name it). My biggest mistake in going to Israel as a single woman in her late 20s was that I didn't have a dime saved. I went with a nice income, but that income disappeared almost instantly. Not having anything saved put me into a nice amount of debt, which is no fun. 

2. Buy lots of clothes in the U.S. before you move. Why? Because if there's one thing Israel doesn't have, it's any kind of clothing that will withstand more than a few washes in Israel's harsh water. Also? It's crazy expensive to buy something that will last. I know it seems superficial, but it's a good idea. I don't know many people in Israel that buy their shoes, electronics, or clothing in Israel. 

3. Make sure you understand the impact of your U.S. bank accounts, especially if you're going to be transferring money back and forth. It can cost quite a bit of money to make transfers (e.g. Chase charges $40 for international transfers), and it adds up. If you have a U.S.-based income, have a plan in place for regular transfers. 

4. Decide whether you really want to pay all that money for a lift. Moving stuff to Israel can be crazy expensive, especially when there's a readily available market for used furniture and appliances in Israel with all of the olim (immigrants) moving back to the U.S. and selling their entire property. If you can't live without it, take it with you, but make sure you really can't live without it. 

5. Believe in the mission. If you make aliyah based on a dream or with expectations that life will not change much except that you'll be living in Eretz Yisrael, then you're going to be sorely disappointed and experience a huge shock. Make aliyah because you believe Israel is going to be the best home for you and your family, make aliyah because you believe in the nation and its principles and the understanding that Israel is home for the Jewish people. Don't make aliyah because it's going to solve all of your problems or provide you with a "better" life or fix things. Be realistic, but be passionate. 

Will I be financially prepared when we return to Israel? Probably not. But it's not the reason we're back in the U.S. I'm not here to make my fortune so I can return to Israel sitting pretty by any means. It would be nice, but, like I said, I'm a realist. 

Ready to ask a question? Be nice and ask away!

Ask Chaviva Anything: A Life Illegal?

This is going to be a rather tense edition of Ask Chaviva Anything, simply because of the nature of several questions I have received in recent weeks. The first one is easy, and then come the tough, emotional, complicated ones.

How did you choose Neve Daniel? 

This is an easy question. In my past visits to Israel, I've been able to experience the Golan (northern Israel), Jerusalem, Ramat Bet Shemesh, Neve Daniel, Tel Aviv, and Caesaria. Since moving here, I've also experienced a few other small, beautiful towns and neighborhoods. When I first moved to Israel, I was utterly pleased to live in Jerusalem in the Nachlaot neighborhood, because of its proximity to the shuk, centrality in Jerusalem, and the vibe of the neighborhood.

Mr. T, too, lived in Nachlaot until the beginning of November. Yes, we've wondered whether in those few short weeks I was living in Nachlaot whether our paths ever happened to cross.

That being said, when you meet someone amazing and decide to get married, you want a place that can and will be all your own -- a place that is "yours" as a collective couple. My apartment in Nachlaot was a shoebox, and Mr. T's apartment was (unfortunately) falling apart and not a place that we felt like we could be a "we." Thus, moving.

Why Neve Daniel? The short answer has two components: It is absolutely freaking beautiful there, and the bulk of my closest friends in Israel live there. (They call it Har HaBloggerim -- mountain of bloggers -- for a reason.) Lucky for me, Mr. T is an absolute dream and wanted to be in a place that made me happy, where we could be happy together. Neve Daniel is most perfect for what we need and where we are right now. They're even building a Beit Knesset right across from where we live!

Now ... the following are actually two different questions from two different people at two different times, but I've combined them for ease of answering.

How do you justify moving to a settlement that is considered to be in violation of international law? || I agree with you that the west bank in general, and the gush in particular, as stunning, and have a very special feel to them, and some lovely people living there.  But does it bother you to live in a place where there are two sets of rules for two groups of people, with unequal access to roads, water, healthcare, and civil protections under the law?

I knew this question was coming, and to be completely honest I haven't spent much time thinking about it. I've found that a lot of people outside of Israel don't necessarily understand what a "settlement" is in Israel. Many people think of caravans or tents or people living in trailers -- not the community in which I'm now living where the homes are built, completely permanent, where there is infrastructure, and a complete sense of permanent living. That being said, I think some history is necessary here.

Neve Daniel was established in 1982 on the site of the Cohen Farm -- which itself was founded in 1935 on lands purchased by Jews from an Arab village. In 1943, the land was transferred to the Jewish National Fund, abandoned during the Arab riots, and remained under Jordanian control until 1967. By this account, the land is Jewish-owned, period.

The question about legality comes from Article 49 of the Fourth Geneva Convention relative to the protection of civilian persons in time of war, which says,

"The occupying power shall not deport or transfer parts of its own population into the territories it occupies."

So my first question here is whether we're currently in a "time of war." My second question arises from the fact that no "state" held exact control over Judea and Samaria/the West Bank prior to 1967 anyhow.  According to the 1935 purchase and 1943 transfer, the land which Neve Daniel occupies is Jewish-owned. If we're neither at war nor was the area controlled by one state from which Israel then "occupied," then this isn't problematic.

As for the question about the inequality of access and lifestyle, I have to say that I just don't see it. Almost daily I ride through the checkpoints, I shop at the grocery store with Arabs and Jews alike, I travel the same roads, I live the same life, except I cannot enter certain places because I am Jewish -- like Bet Lechem, for example. The giant warning signs are explicit: It's dangerous to enter these Arab towns for Jews. There is no sign at the entrance to Neve Daniel telling Arabs not to come in out of danger to their lives, and you won't find one at any entrance to any "Jewish" town in the Gush either. (Lots of Arabs come in to Neve Daniel every day for work, at that.)

At Tzomet HaGush (near Neve Daniel where the grocery store and several other shops are), I park side-by-side with Arabs. We wait in the same checkout lines. We buy the same groceries. We ask the same questions. We travel the same roads home. In Jerusalem, we wait in the same waiting rooms, drink coffee at the same cafes, get annoyed at the same bank tellers, and run to catch the same buses.

It isn't a life apart like you think. Take, for example, the fact that Beitar -- the Jerusalem soccer team -- has Muslim players on its team, but the team they're playing this evening is a Muslim-only team. It's like Bet Lechem, precisely.

Of course, we could argue about it until we're blue in the face. This is simply my perspective, and this is my experience in nearly four months here and several years visiting the country. There are people who want all Arabs to die, to occupy every last inch of this small land, and who treat Arabs and Muslims like rats rather than people. Guess what? I'm not one of those people. I believe in an equal opportunity to succeed, to be happy, and to live life. But I also know my history, my politics, and I know that so much of what the world sees of Israel is either not based in fact or is based in fact and skewed. I know that Arab nations have rejected those who call themselves Palestinians and only acknowledge them when it serves a greater purpose for Arab and Muslim nations. They're a pawn, and it's disappointing and depressing. Israel does more for Palestinians than any of the nations of Arabs, period.

I'm debating whether to leave comments open on this post. I think, against my better judgment, I'm going to leave them open. Be kind, but be honest and realistic if you want to comment, please. I have no interest in fighting with anyone about this subject. I do, however, appreciate intelligent discussions that stick to productive dialogue.

Side note: The name "Neve Daniel" comes from the name of a bend in the road southwest of Bet Lechem where a convoy bringing supplies to Gush Etzion was ambushed in 1948. According to reports, 15 Jews were killed, 73 wounded, and tons of supplies and vehicles were destroyed when Arabs blocked the roads and swarmed the Jewish convoy.

Ask Chaviva Anything!: Of Aliyah and Marriage

Now? Another installment of Ask Chaviva Anything!

As an American who married an Israeli, I am bracing myself for the move to Israel in a few years. I feel paralyzed by fear sometimes and, just as quickly, guilt-ridden for not wanting to dive head-first into what I know is the right place for us as Jews. I am also a convert, and feel devastated that I'll be leaving my family here. Can you give me any advice or motivation on how to stay positive?

This is a tough one. A very tough one. And I'm not sure it's one I'm fully equipped or prepared to answer because I come from a pretty different place than you. I only saw my family so many times a year and relied largely on e-communications to keep in touch, I wasn't married, and the motivation to move to Israel was wholly my own. That being said, I think that having the time to plot and plan almost makes the entire waiting period worse -- you'll hyper-analyze every aspect of what could possibly go wrong on the move. It's an incredibly frustrating thing you're going through, I can only imagine. 

So I'm going to put this one out to my readers. Does anyone have advice? 

The next question?

Can you post more of your cute apartment?

Yes! But only after my closet shows up. Hopefully it will be here by November 21. Stay tuned!

Here comes another, closer to home. 

I thought you weren't looking to get married again or so you said on the blog multiple times awhile back. When did this change?

Late last year/early this year I had said I wasn't sure I wanted to get married again. But that's also when I was dating someone outside Judaism, was bitter and angry about a lot of things, and was still coping with divorce and family problems I was having. A lot of therapy later, making the decision to keep my happiness at Number 1 on my priorities, and making aliyah, marriage has been in the cards. The truth is, my desire not to get married was largely a result of the guy I was seeing not wanting to get married. I was doing my best to believe in the "marriage is a sham" bit. But I want very much to get married, to have kids, to do my part in growing Am Yisrael. Shockingly, it's not nearly as easy as I thought to meet people in Israel.  

And we'll end with an easy one. 

How long do you think you'll stay in Israel?

Forever? I made aliyah -- I moved here, permanently -- and my intent is for Israel to be my home indefinitely. I'm not naive enough to think that life hands us things we are most unprepared for, so who knows what is in store for me, but making aliyah means moving to the land, possessing it, making it my home. So that's what I'm doing!

Ask Chaviva Anything!: Of Kippot and Aliyah

The first question I received was a cute and simple one, which I appreciate!

Are you the girl who made the Google Chrome Kippah? I just saw you on Facebook when I was checking someone else's friends, and I just saw you and I though about the video.

Why yes, that was me. In case some of you missed it, way back when I designed and created a Google Chrome kippah for a video contest. It was pretty awesome. 

The next question is also a fairly easy answer, I think. I'm guessing that my response might change the longer I'm here, however.

What is the weirdest thing you have experienced going from having visited Israel in the past, to now living there after living in the USA?

The weirdest thing is probably how completely normal and not strange or weird or out of place it feels to be here. I kind of feel like I just left my overly large apartment in Denver for an overly small one in Nachlaot (that I love, by the way). This is probably aided by the fact that my closest Denver friend -- who lived in the building across the parking lot from me now lives across Betzalel (a major street nearby) from me. So ... it's sort of like life didn't change. Save for the Hebrew, the cats, and the amount of kippot that I see. 

Here's a good question from David.

Is there anything about the aliya process with NBN that you would change or do differently if you could?

I'm probably the wrong person to ask, considering my process went as smoothly as the soles of a newborn's feet. From some of what I've seen, I think the one thing I would recommend/change is that everyone who wants to make aliyah comes on a group or charter flight -- I've heard some horror stories about things lost in translation or process from those who make aliyah on their own. The group and charter flights sort of guarantee that you get everything you need in the time that you need it; on your own you can miss out on a lot of the finer details and feel like the system is cheating you. 

Have a question? Be gentle, and ask away.

My Aliyah Essay

I'm considering using this as my shidduch (matchmaking) resume. This is the essay I wrote for my Nefesh b'Nefesh/Jewish Agency application for aliyah. Enjoy!

This is a doozy. Where do I begin? I was born and bred a Midwestern girl in a Midwestern tradition of Christianity. I spent most of my childhood in the Bible Belt of Southern Missouri, denying the faith as young as 10 years old. We moved to Nebraska when I was entering middle school and despite my best efforts to fit in by the time I was done with high school I was a religious question mark. I created my own religion, with my own tenets, and I lost a lot of friends over it. My freshman year of college, during one of those deep metaphysical conversations freshman have about the meaning of life a friend quipped that I should pick up a book on Judaism, him seeing that my own made-up sense of religion was, in fact, best aligned with Judaism. I bought Anita Diamant’s “Choosing a Jewish Life” from a used bookstore, quickly discovered there were two synagogues in town (a Reform and Conservative), and that I had a friend who had a friend who was Jewish. After a few years of hammering out what I knew was awakening in me through university classes and blogging, I stepped foot in a synagogue and never looked back -- I was home. I completed my Reform conversion in April 2006, moved to Washington D.C. and quickly dove into the Torah, reading every parshah every week for an entire year. I moved to Chicago in 2007 and found myself moving in a different direction than the mega-church-style Lakeview Reform community and stepped into a Conservative synagogue into a “breakaway” young adult minyan. And then? Then I went out and bought two skirts (the first I’d owned probably since high school) and made my way to an Orthodox synagogue a few weeks before Passover in 2008. Imagine carrying around a load of bricks, and you’re not sure why you’re carrying them and then suddenly you go someplace and realize, “Oh, right, these belong here!” Well, stepping into that synagogue was what that felt like. I vowed to have an Orthodox conversion, and the moment I got to Connecticut to pursue my master’s in Judaic Studies, I found a synagogue, found a rabbi, and by January 1, 2010, I completed my RCA Beth Din conversion in New York City.

Sof sof!

And now? Well, after being married for 16 months (May 2010-September 2011) and asking for a get just weeks before Rosh Hashanah in 2011 and moving halfway across the country to Colorado to clear my head, I’ve realized that I’m happier and healthier than I’ve been in my entire life. But the things I don’t have in Colorado are numerous: the Orthodox dating world is nonexistent and guys from the coasts don’t want to date someone who doesn’t live closer, I have a fairly nonexistent social life, and I have no family here. The people I consider family live in Israel. The R-----------s, who watched me pre-conversion, post-conversion, through my marriage, and held my hand through my divorce, live in Ra'anana. They’re my family. Friends I’ve met on Twitter and through my blog reside in Israel and make me long for the place that, whenever I visit, I feel so at home. I have a bracelet with the coordinates of Jerusalem that I had made because wherever I go, my heart is in Jerusalem.

I always told people the only reason I don’t live in Israel is because of the weather. I’m a sucker for snow, and I hate hot weather. But, I guess, I’m feeling the nudge now. I’m single, unattached to any place, and now is probably a good of time as any to make the leap. I miss my friends, I miss my family, I miss knowing that I’m at home. I know it will not be easy -- believe me, I know that. But very little in my life has been easy. What I know is that with people at my side who genuinely care about my well-being, anything is possible. And, of course, there’s always the obligation to live in Israel, to dwell in the land, to be a part of something amazing, beautiful, and brilliant. To watch the children of Israel return, with hopes and dreams in tow.

A Day in the Life

Photos -- except the last one -- courtesy of Laura Ben-David of Nefesh b'Nefesh!

Getting off the plane. Smiling so big my face hurt!

After being shutteled over to the old terminal, we sit in orange 

chairs waiting for our names to be called for processing.  It is at 

this time that I realize my U.S. passport has had a sticker placed

in it by the Israeli Embassy with my Aliyah Visa!

Laura and I sit and chat. But mostly Laura was running around taking

so many amazing photographs. This woman is SUPER woman, seriously. 

Sitting down, signing paperwork, getting goodies, and learning a bit, too!

 The important things in life. SIM card with 200 minutes and my 

Teudat Olah (documentation of immigration, sort of like a passport). 

 The whole group -- exhausted, sweating, and ready to pick up our luggage!

And you've see this already, but this is me right before heading out

to the taxi that was to take me home -- to Nachlaot!

The In-Flight Commentary

I wrote this in two spurts while in-flight on my way from JFK in New York City to Ben Gurion in Israel. Enjoy!

As I walked down the ramp after reluctantly giving up my carry on, I said to no one in particular, with a huge grin,

"It's happening."

Dinner was outstandingly delicious. Consider ordering gluten free the next time you fly El Al. Fish with steamed zucchini and snow peas, hummus with rice cakes (a substitution I never considered), a salad with Italian dressing, and a delicious chocolate mousse. I was pleasantly surprised. Or maybe it was that I hadn't eaten all day ... Again.

It's just after 7 a.m. in Israel, which means the trip is more than half over. In 4.5 hours we land. That's like a trip to LA from NY. Someone on the plane is sick enough to necessitate the "Is there a doctor on board" call. Of course, there were several.

I'm currently watching some ooey gooey Discovery Channel-style thing. It made for brain-stimulating background noise as I completed a crossword puzzle. I spent a good ten minutes puzzled (bada ching!) on the last clue: feature for a garage door. S_ _s_r. Duh Chaviva!

I've watched two movies so far: Rock of Ages and some movie with a star-studded cast that took place in Rome. Rock of Ages was good, and not annoying at all. I was bummed by Alec Baldwin's role, however. And Tom Cruise just ... He just. The other movie had Jessie Eisenberg, Woody Allen, the girl from Juno, Alec Baldwin (seriously El Al, what's up with that?), Roberto Benini, and Penelope Cruz. It was quality, but it left me sort of wondering ... And? [Note: The movie is To Rome With Love.]

The flight has been going smoothly for me. More smoothly than usual. That is, aside from the kicking child behind me and the petite mother in front of me who has her seat all the way back and keeps pushing on it like there isn't anyone behind her. Sometimes I wonder why people pose all respect for human beings the moment they enter a plane (or any mode of transit, that is).

There are only 67 olim on this flight, which bums me out, but it's no charter flight. Now? I'll watch an episode of Alcatraz I've already seen. It's good Hebrew practice.

Just remembered to write about the international crisis averted when the security guy at baggage drop pulled Bananagrams from my suitcase.

"What is this?" he asked.

"A game," I said. 

"Did anyone give it to you?" he asked. 

"No ... It's mine," I said. 

The girl whose luggage was in after me? She also had Bananagrams and nothing happened. What's up with that?

It's now 9:23 in Israel. We're two hours out. What? Is this happening?!

I haven't gotten up nice to move around. I think my legs are not gong to be able to carry me when the time comes. That's the downfall of the window seat, of course. [Note: I did get up to move around about an hour before landing. It felt so good!]

And ... breakfast.

The Listen and the Action

Two of my three 50-pound suitcases +

my carryon suitcase + my backpack. 

What I've realized is that there are not enough pounds in the aliyah allotment for me to schlep the amount of clothes, coffee mugs with sentimental meaning, medical stuff (vitamins, supplements, allergy pills, and my oodles of creams), my down-alternative comforter (because I'm neurotic about the things I sleep with and on -- not being able to schlep a pillow is actually causing me unrest), and so forth. I don't know how it filled up so fast. But it did. I had to hardcore downsize, leaving lots of clothing and some precious home goods behind. I sent home THREE boxes of books to my parents -- seforim and lots of books from graduate school I cannot part with. I'm not taking a single cookbook with me. I'm so paranoid about finding clothes that both fit me and are well-built (being a plus size gal makes certain items difficult to find anyhow), so I stocked up here. My luggage is brimming with Lane Bryant and Old Navy and ... I'll be set for a while, anyhow. 

I'm rising in about 5 hours and 45 minutes to shower and get everything else packed up. I'm weighing my luggage every few minutes, it seems like, and I just know I'm going to get to the airport and they're either going to be too heavy or they're going to have five pounds of free room and I'm going to say "WHY ME?! WHY!?" After packing, I'm packing up the car, taking a last-minute trip to the donation center, the bank to withdrawal a ridiculous amount of cash, and off to the airport for my 11:15 a.m. flight to New York City. 

If anyone desires a meetup in the Five Towns for dinner Sunday night, let me know. My flight gets into LaGuardia at 5 p.m. and I figure I'll be at my hotel by 6:30 or 7 p.m. Then? Rest. Relaxation ... and ... I'll probably end up doing a lot of work actually. Monday I have to be at JFK by 3 p.m. for my 7 p.m. Nefesh b'Nefesh flight to Israel. 

This is aliyah folks. When you're a young, single person, you pack your life into three, 50-pound suitcases plus a carry on plus a personal item. The funny thing is that it doesn't feel weird to me. At work on Friday everyone said I seemed inordinately calm. For me, it's like I'm moving to a new city -- something I've done so very many times before. Packing up a bunch of suitcases and schlepping them across a country is what I do, so an ocean seems no different to me. The only difference is that I'm not the one driving the car doing the schlepping -- I'm on a plane, my luggage is packed tightly away, and I'm at the whim of the weather, some pilots, and time. 

It's adventure for me. Grabbing life by the reins and really owning it. It's taking the land -- Eretz Yisrael -- and possessing it. HaShem commanded me -- all of Israel -- to do this. So it doesn't feel strange, it just feels more right than all of the other attempts I've made at moving and possessing the space I inhabit. This time, it's real. This time? It's for keeps. This time, HaShem is fully with me. I finally listened, as we're commanded so many times in the Torah to do so. Shema, it says. Listen. 

Not once in the Torah does HaShem demand that we obey Him. HaShem asks us merely to listen. To absorb. To take in. To internalize. And only then do we act, because we want to be an active participant in this world, in this creation, in Am Yisrael. 

"Be silent, Israel, and listen! You have now become the people of the LORD your God. Listen to the LORD your God and follow His commands and decrees that I give you today" (Deut. 27:9-10).

It's taken me several years of listening to finally act. And now that I am? The listening, the choice, the action -- it's like feeling my skin for the first time. It's a part of me.

Yom Kippur in Galut

I had an incredibly emotional Yom Kippur, and for the first time in many years I was able to power through a migraine and fully fast without drinking anything. There was something in the air this year about Yom Kippur ... something fulfilling and powerful. Something that moved me to tears during the confessions or vidui.

We have willfully sinned.

That one got me every time. Thinking back on the past year and knowing that I made choices that were ones of sin, and yet acted anyway, well, that smacked me in the gut and brought tears to my eyes. I think that for the first time the Yom Kippur service held a deep and painful personal meaning for me, and it stretched back beyond last year into my failed marriage. 

I was asked to speak during Kol Nidrei with Minyan Na'aleh for roughly five minutes on "new beginnings" because of my impending aliyah. I gladly accepted -- to be asked meant so much to me. I toiled over what to say for a long time, and I ended up turning to my rav to hash out exactly how to connect Yom Kippur with aliyah with new beginnings with my ever-changing experience. The result, I think, had a more powerful impact than I could have known. I won't repost the text here, mostly because it's that personal. Yes, I stood in front of a crowd of largely strangers, but for some reason it made sense. The message? Choices. I spent three years of my life devoid of choices. Aliyah is me breaking out with the ultimate choice. 

I managed to stand throughout the entirety of Neilah, despite fatigue, a headache, and the fact that I was completely freezing. The sanctuary was frigid, and I was dressed for a typical Colorado summer day. Near the end of the service, when the shofar was blown and a burst of adrenaline had the men dancing around the bimah singing "L'shanah ha'ba'ah b'Yerushalyim!" (next year in Jerusalem), I realized that the words were so apt. So personal.

As Yom Kippur ended and I grabbed some Orange Juice and headed home, I realized that I'm so close to Israel. I'm mere weeks away. I just have to power through the eight days of Sukkot and Simchat Torah and Shemini Atzeret and then ... I'm off.

Sell my car. Sell my bed. Pack my clothes and books. And say goodbye to Colorado and hello to the choice of a lifetime. 

The Q&A of 10Q: Of Mattresses and Adulthood

The takeaway from this post, in case you don't get to the end: You don't become an adult by buying your first mattress, even if it's an incredibly expensive pillow-top with marshmallow-covered coils covered in cotton candy for a deliciously sweet night's sleep. Despite popular opinion, mattress purchases don't make adults. 

I started up with 10Q back in 2009. I was utterly boring, the only life-altering experience that pen put to page that year was my father's diagnosis of lymphoma. (B"H, he's in remission.) But my answers were not well-thought-out, in fact they were overly predictive and shockingly accurate.

Day 10: When September 2010 rolls around and you receive your answers to your 10Q questions, how do you think you'll feel? What do you think/hope might be different about your life and where you're at as a result of pondering these questions?

Your Answer: I think my life will be TOTALLY different in September 2010. I'll be an Orthodox Jew. I'll be married. I'll be in some type of advanced degree program. I'll hopefully be living in a new place, with new things.

And there we have it. Chaviva the future seer. By September 2010 I was married, at NYU, and living in Teaneck, New Jersey. Moving on ...

In September 2010, I'll admit I'm shocked to read that I was really serious about this aliyah business. The thing is, I knew that my ex-husband wasn't interested. What was I playing at?

Day 6: Describe one thing you'd like to achieve by this time next year. Why is this important to you?

Your Answer: One thing I'd like to achieve by this time next year ... probably to have functioning knees. And a HIGHER level of accuracy and fluency of Hebrew. Oh, and more progress re: aliyah!

I will admit that my knees have gotten a lot better since moving to Colorado, but my Hebrew has waned quite a bit. I hope it's like riding a bicycle and the moment my feet hit the ground I'm all over the mamaloshen. 

But then there's the kicker in 2010. The fact that I didn't know what was coming in 2011. I read these words and realize the naivety that fills them. I was overly optimistic, and it shows. Yes, already four months into the marriage I was in therapy -- for the first time in my whirligig of a life.

Day 9: What is a fear that you have and how has it limited you? How do you plan on letting it go or overcoming it in the coming year? 

Your Answer: A fear? Opening up, seeking help, committing to therapy. I've gone twice, and both times I felt apprehensive and tried to cancel. I don't expect it to get easier, only harder. But for now, it's right. It's helped me already fix things with myself and my husband. Over the coming year, I want to get even better, to commit to it, and to make it make me healthy.

And then part deux.

Day 10: When September 2011 rolls around and you receive your answers to your 10Q questions, how do you think you'll feel? What do you think/hope might be different about your life and where you're at as a result of thinking about and answering these questions?

Your Answer: I think I'll feel ... more empassioned about ending up in Israel, either happier or depressed about my academic situation. I hope that I'll be happier in my marriage. I hope therapy will help. I hope that I'll be overall HAPPY.

I might not have gotten the happy in September 2011. But I sure as hell got insight. 

But still, there's that Israel thing. Man it peppered my life more than I knew over the past several years. It's like HaShem is plotting me a map ... backwards. 

The funny thing about my 10Q from 2010? I didn't fill out the final question: What are your predictions for 2011? Maybe I knew the year would be as unpredictable as it really was. Maybe it was my subconscious protecting itself from what it knew was coming. 

Reading back on all of my answers from the three years I've participated (wow, so much has happened in three years, yikes), I'm eager to answer this year's questions, mostly because I finished a hard cycle of therapy, cut off some cancers in my life, reevaluated what I need to make me happy, sought the advice and counsel of some amazing friends, and came to terms with my divorce and subsequent pendulum swings. This has been a year of inexplainable inward evaluation, teshuva, and realizations. Despite being an adult since I was a kid, despite having had to grow up very early, I think this might be the first time I've ever felt like an adult. 

I thought it was when I purchased my first mattress when my then-boyfriend Ian and I broke up back in 2007. I felt adult. But I hadn't yet learned to deal with emotions and feelings like an adult. I was still on the "fix everybody, every possible person -- except yourself" journey. 

So when the questions come, I suppose I'll say, "I grew up this year." Maybe not financially, and maybe I still enjoy the childlike fantasies of curling up with a good book and sipping hot cocoa and eating rice krispie treats. But I did grow up. I grew up, and I grew in. Into myself, that is. 

Lech Lecha, friends. 5773 is the year. 

Aliyah Update: Flight is Booked!

I appreciate that Southwest Airlines allows one to "name" their trip itinerary. Above? That's what I named mine. Yes, I just booked my flight to New York to catch my Monday, October 15 flight out of JFK to Eretz Yisrael. (Okay, so it's not my last U.S. flight ever ... G-d willing my little brother will get married someday, and I'll come back to see it.)

I'd been stressing out over the logistics of the entire adventure, mostly because Southwest (where I had boatloads of miles to use) didn't fly in to JFK. I didn't realize (until today) how close LaGuardia and JFK are, so I nabbed a reservation at a hotel near the two with a free shuttle service to JFK. But also stress arose because I'm going to Los Angeles for the last days of Sukkot to catch up with one of my favorites families on the planet, which has me back in Denver on October 10. Those days when I get back are going to be hardcore crunch time.

And the hotel? It's not a five-star joint -- after all, it's hard to find an airport hotel with any niceness that is under $300 a night. But I found one, and although I might not sleep at all my last night in the United States, I do have this:

"This nonsmoking guestroom offers 1 king bed with a pillowtop mattress, plush duvet, and a choice of pillows. Wireless Internet access is complimentary. The TV comes with premium cable channels."

I'll be comfortable, to say the least. 

So friends, if you're in New York and want to see me before I boot-scoot off to the land that HaShem promised me when I decided to take the wacky adventure of appeasing my Jewish neshama (soul), then you'll know where to find me. 

I just have to be at JFK by 3 p.m. Or Nefesh b'Nefesh will have my head!

As a side note: I think the hotel where I'm staying actually was where I attended a Nefesh b'Nefesh fair several years ago. If so, it will be a weird, happy coincidence.

Aliyah Update: Vlog Style

Aliyah: An Even Better Update

You can't please everyone ...

The Test of the Dangling Carrot

Mere moments after I made the decision to make aliyah, a magical golden carrot appeared floating in the midst. It seemed perfect, just right, meant to be. Except that the dangling carrot was not in Israel, it was elsewhere. And it got me thinking whether I could put my long-awaited decision of aliyah on hold.

I knew deep down the answer was no, but I considered my options. I let the carrot dangle. I, the mule, watched the carrot carefully. I coveted the carrot. I followed the carrot.

Then, somehow, the carrot was gone. Decision made. My heart broke a little, I had trouble sleeping, and then I woke up feeling differently. It's aliyah, folks. It's fulfilling the ultimate mitzvah!

The carrot is in Israel. And it's not on a string. It's real.

This felt like the first test of HaShem (well, that and all the bureaucracy of having to wait for apostilles on my various legal documents from three different states). The question being whether now that I've made the decision for aliyah, will anything stop me? Will I be able to handle it? Will I follow through?

Duh. There are a bajillion reasons I would follow through.

"There is a positive, biblical commandment to dwell in Eretz Israel, as it says, 'You shall possess it and dwell in it' (Devarim 17:14, 26:I)."

That comes from Sefer Chareidim (Mitzvot Asei HaTeluyot B'Eretz Israel, chap. I, sec 15).  Chazal say that this mitzvah is equal to all the mitzvot of the Torah (Sifrei, Re'eh 28), and it is one of the 613 mitzvot according to the Ramban and the Rashbetz.

So test away, throw carrots my way, roadblocks, mounds of bureaucracy and stress -- I'm going to plant my feet in Israel and never look back. 

I've got a whole lot of bitachon. More than I've ever experienced before in my life. I'm happier than ever, I'm more excited than I've ever been. Bring it.