I've had an incredible weekend.
On Friday night, I brought in Shabbat with dinner and kirtan (Sanskrit chanting) with David. The kirtan was lovely and bizarre. We were sitting on the floor in a room of college students and their teacher with a harpsichord. At first, for me to chant Hare Krishna as a Jew starting Shabbos was in the same category of strange as my being a non-Christian chaplain of a gospel choir. But I remembered that God can see through all our words and into our intentions, and I believe all prayers are going to the same God anyway, so I let go and allowed myself into the prayer. I imagined my heart opening like a lotus as we spent two magical hours singing the same chant.
David asked if I'd ever considered going to a Hebrew chant leadership workshop. I said it's something I consider and then I dismiss myself saying that I'm not ready-- but that I'm dismissing myself less and less these days, so who knows? He told me that his teacher had asked if the students knew anyone who would be a good candidate for the program, and he said that I was the only person that he thought of. I thanked him and was flattered. I told him I would consider it more seriously, and I am.
I came home on Friday night feeling open and ready to welcome Shabbat. I lit the candles and said kiddush and motzi, and I sang in the candlelight, and wrote a poem.
I passed my "audition" with Monica and I played guitar at the minyan for the first time. I was so worried --why? They were so wonderful and supportive. The only criticism that I received was that I didn't play enough. I assured them that I would learn more for next time.
I almost stayed home after that. I felt like I had no energy to do anything for myself. Then I thought: "That is crazy. If a guest guitarist had come to the minyan and was planning on spending the evening alone, you would invite her out. So, treat yourself with that much respect."
So I got a salad at Aladdin's and went to a coffee place where there was a drummer and a sitar player giving a concert. I appreciate the mindfulness of buddhists-- it is truly a lovely practice to witness. I let myself into the music again, but brought myself back when I felt the cup of coffee start to slip from my hands. I took myself out to the movies, and saw "A Serious Man" -- it was so good: mesmerizing, and literary. I left the theater chuckling to myself, my brain still making connections, and I heard a group of Indian college students discussing the movie: "I just lost two hours of my life!!!" It made me giggle. Enjoying chanting and sitars does not make one a buddhist. (Not that I'm saying they were...)
Tonight I am feeling like my life is full of possibility. If one of my rabbis heard me discuss the insane-to-me idea that I could go to rabbinical school someday and did not laugh me out of his office but instead took me more seriously than I took myself: truly, now I know that I could do anything from here.
Chant leadership training in the summer, followed by finishing my bachelor's degree while still working my mitzvah job? Or maybe I will focus my energies on becoming a guitar virtuoso (ha), able to accompany any service at the drop of a hat. Or maybe my life will continue as it is for a while longs. Gym, job, shul, laundry, sleep, repeat. It is lovely the way it is-- but I am sensing a shift coming of some kind.
I know where to start, though. Learn one more song. Visit folks in nursing homes. Keep writing and thinking and studying, and opening my mouth, no matter how crazy I think the words might be.
Wonderful things keep happening when I do.
