Disclaimer: this is my first attempt at mobile blogging so please forgive grammatical/spelling lapses until I get the hang of this (ok, ok, I'm lazy and reviewing text on my phone makes my eyes hurt. Obviously I know how to use my phone)
Today I blog from the kosher aisle at the local mega shoprite (a chain that is probably the love child of Tesco and Smart and Final...but really the love child of that child with A&P). Why, you may ever so rightfully ask, would I take the tome to pause here to reflect on my emotional state of affairs? Aren't there more peaceful, leas chilly places conducive to introspection?
Well, dear friends, the obvious answer is yes. And the reason I am not blogging from my backyard or Tahiti or the roof of a hut in Vietnam is that my state is holding steady at just above mediocre and that my new employer is only paying 8.75 an hour AND that my mom sent me here on a near impossible mission to acquire chicken for our Friday night dinner for Rosh Hashanah.
It has conceptually hit me how strange it is that this year, different from all other years, is not being punctuated and metered by marking periods, semesters, and national holidays (plus a week at Christmas and Easter). Now instead my life will be measured by semi-legit events and accomplishments. Being able to finish my statement of purpose, for example. Joining an adult kickball league. I suppose these aren't particularly less meaningful than an administrator's ability to read a calendar, but they leave a little something to be desired.
Which brings us to Rosh Hashanah. You may be questioning how this relentlessly mobile date in September claims with any legitimacy to be the new year. I suppose the fact that it coincides roughly with the new school year has something to do with the fact that our school year is based on the agrarian life style, and this new year marks that moment right before the rush of harvest. The more tr hnocal answer has to do with the insanity that is the 5k year old Hebrew calendar, which is based pb the moon, not the Sun, and adds extra months at odd intervals in some effort of compensation and cooperation. It's really quite strange. Like unbelievably so. Except that. People have been following it for over 5 millennia, so really who are we to point fingers.
Every year of my life some unpredictable day in the pre-autumnal weeks has demanded a life stoppage. I'll admit that my mom's demands seemed to shift. No light switches. No tv. No tv once we sit down to dinner. No work never seemed to make the list, probably because she invited as many as 30 people to sit around a giant table with our family and share on the celebration.
And completely dissimilar to the secular New year, an event so overwhelmed with glitter, champagne, substandard musical performances, and attempts at weight loss that it's meaning has either been covered in morning-after vomit or lost altogether, Rosh Hashanah offers a niche group an incredible moment of reflection and promises another 12 month's, whenever they begin or end, loaded with savory food, passive aggressive family, and wonderful friends.
So, despite my on again/ off again relationship with the big guy upstairs, I feel compelled to mention that the cultural aspects of this religion never leave me feeling anything but like I'm a member of a community, like I'm among friends, like I'm at home. So in whatever way works for you, as the seasons change and we grow older, I encourage you to kick back with some apples and honey, do what you live with whom you love, and than whatever you do or don't believe in for the ability to be together, once again, toasting to what I hope will be another incredible year.
