We officially booked our flights last night. Flying out of Chicago on August 30 gives me an actual, real, tangible date. A specific point in time that I can measure and count down to and plan for.
I should clarify something. When I say "we," I am talking about myself and someone else. I basically began looking into a position in Romania as a result of a conversation I had with this person. We both went to Romania in May of 2009 through a trip with school, and it was here that I left a portion of my heart. We talked a lot about life after graduation, and D~ casually (I thought) mentioned going back to Romania. I began looking into this possibility and did some quick research and applying and interviewing. When I jokingly invited D~ to Bucharest after getting confirmation of a teaching job, he also decided to pursue a year teaching English in Romania. So, I am lucky enough to have someone both familiar and terribly entertaining to embark on this journey with. And it is truly an inexpressible comfort to know someone in the same hemisphere, time zone, and country.
Anyway- we are now the owners of real and actual tickets for a real and actual flight to Romania. My entire life, I have been looking forward to the future. And while there is nothing wrong with anticipation, I fear that I am missing things on the way. This blog is obviously about teaching in Romania, but I am acutely aware that everything this summer will impact that up and coming time. Every experience in my entire life is contributing to the experience I will have in Romania, and for obvious reasons they matter tremendously.
And so with resolve, I am committing to "momentary living." Not living for a moment, but living through the moments. A million little things happen daily that I don't want to miss, especially as I look forward to this looming departure date. For I am in danger of living on the surface for this entire summer, simply existing without being affected or creating an effect. I am committing to acknowledging the insignificant, the chol, the seemingly meaningless.
In in that spirit, here are wonderful kid quotes from the day:
Munchkin #5: "You have a red face Stephanie. And it is kinda soggy."
Munchkin #2: (With a wave of the wand) "I declare it shall be COLD. Chillium! Wow! I feel it working already."
Munchkin #6: "I like these things."
Stephanie: "What things?"
Munchkin #6: "These round things under your shirt."
Showing posts with label Chol. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chol. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Chol
I am working this summer for the Jewish Community Center in Chicago. As a counselor at a day camp, I work with 13 girls entering first grade in the fall. As a non-Jewish counselor at this particular day camp, I have a lot of questions and a lot of ignorance concerning things that are completely normal for most of my colleagues. Because of this, I have had the opportunity to learn an incredible amount about a culture I was previously unexposed to. And much of this mirrors what I am expecting to experience in Romania, in a lot of little ways.
For instance, there were a lot of humorous times in my week of staff training. I had no idea what “keeping kosher” meant, and still had to ask about a million questions to clarify once I learned the definition. Just so everyone knows, meat and dairy products must be consumed separately. Not only in separate bites, but in separate meals (I got a lot of weird looks for this question). Additionally, the “ch” sound in Hebrew most closely resembles an “h” sound with a wad of phlegm in the throat- this means that “chug” on the weekly schedule is not an invitation to down a quick drink but to learn about Israeli culture.
One of the things that I learned this week about the Jewish culture is the importance of “separation.” Whatever you want to take from this, the ancient Israelites, while wandering in the wilderness, established a pattern of separating the “holy” from the sand (“chol”). In order to remain faithful and in connection with the Divine, they established rituals of separation- both of time and of food. Time, of course, is what I have heard called “Sabbath,” and they call it “Shabbat.”
I celebrated Shabbat for the first time last week, and it was an observance of joy and beauty. There is something good and pure about honoring time, setting aside specified moments to simply reflect. This is time separate from the rest of the stuff that clutters the moment, the day, the week, the lifetime.
I am completely in agreement and understanding that time set apart to be sacred is incredibly meaningful and beneficial. However, I have also been thinking a lot about the “chol.” The sand of the wilderness, the everyday tasks, the moments of normalcy- these are all becoming beautiful to me. I am coming to anticipate a lot of chol in my life in Romania. And if I try to find the exquisite in the regular of simply loving people and teaching children and living life, I have a feeling the sacred will be even more spectacular.
For instance, there were a lot of humorous times in my week of staff training. I had no idea what “keeping kosher” meant, and still had to ask about a million questions to clarify once I learned the definition. Just so everyone knows, meat and dairy products must be consumed separately. Not only in separate bites, but in separate meals (I got a lot of weird looks for this question). Additionally, the “ch” sound in Hebrew most closely resembles an “h” sound with a wad of phlegm in the throat- this means that “chug” on the weekly schedule is not an invitation to down a quick drink but to learn about Israeli culture.
One of the things that I learned this week about the Jewish culture is the importance of “separation.” Whatever you want to take from this, the ancient Israelites, while wandering in the wilderness, established a pattern of separating the “holy” from the sand (“chol”). In order to remain faithful and in connection with the Divine, they established rituals of separation- both of time and of food. Time, of course, is what I have heard called “Sabbath,” and they call it “Shabbat.”
I celebrated Shabbat for the first time last week, and it was an observance of joy and beauty. There is something good and pure about honoring time, setting aside specified moments to simply reflect. This is time separate from the rest of the stuff that clutters the moment, the day, the week, the lifetime.
I am completely in agreement and understanding that time set apart to be sacred is incredibly meaningful and beneficial. However, I have also been thinking a lot about the “chol.” The sand of the wilderness, the everyday tasks, the moments of normalcy- these are all becoming beautiful to me. I am coming to anticipate a lot of chol in my life in Romania. And if I try to find the exquisite in the regular of simply loving people and teaching children and living life, I have a feeling the sacred will be even more spectacular.
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