The Promise and Fullfillment

The promising green strawberries have appeared
Not yet of a size to weigh down the spindle branches
Not yet of a color to entice the new born rabbits
Not yet ready for picking and eating
Not yet ready to explode in my mouth with the taste of spring.

Those promising strawberries have grown and matured
Their weight now sharply bends their branches
Their color now calling to the rabbits like a siren
Ready for picking and eating . . . by the rabbits faster than me
Exploding in their mouths more often than in mine.

I Think of You

I think of you
I think of you each day

Though I know that you’re not here
I see you everywhere
In the rising of the sun
In the rocking of a chair

Though I can’t see you with my eyes
You’re there when I look inside
Though your words I cannot hear
In my mind they’re always clear

I think of you
I think of you each day

In the warmth of the summer
I feel your deep embrace
Each gently blowing breeze
Is your touch upon my face

In the shining of the sun
I see the smile on your face
The twinkling stars
Are your eyes sparkling with grace

I think of you
I think of you each day

The singing of the birds
Is your whistling without words
The babbling of the creek
Is your laughter oh so sweet

On the road that leads me home
I hear your heartfelt poems
As I walk through the door
I know I always want more

And I think of you
I think of you each day.

Though I know that you’re not here
I see you everywhere
In the rising of the sun
In the rocking of a chair

Though I know I cannot see you
You’re there when I look inside
Though your words I cannot hear
In my mind they’re always near

And I think of you
I think of you each day

Yes I think of you
I think of you each day

My Mother's Birthday

The following was written on March 2, 2011:

Today would have been my mother's, your mother-in-law's and your Bobi's 94th birthday (born March 2, 1917) and therefore, it is a good time to remember her and to celebrate her life.

If she were here in more than spirit and memories, I think that she would want to remind all of us that she loved us. Indeed, one of her favorite sayings (in addition to describing special events and feelings as "delicious") was to tell me that she loved me and each of you "with all of her life". Easy words, but she really meant them.

She loved many other things deeply and showed that with her actions and dedication. For her, it was her extended family, her Jewish community and her civic community. Though you (my children) may not remember this, your Bobi was honored by countless organizations - both Jewish and civic. She was honored not simply because she was an extraordinary leader - which she was - but because she gave of herself in every way she could - from her vision for what could be to doing what was necessary to bring that vision to a reality.

And through it all, she loved all of us and I hope that you will carry that with you always, and that you find people and causes that you "love with your life".

Let me end with a couple of coincidences.

Today, the Temple Beth Avodah community hopefully will pass an amendment to the By-Laws that govern the Temple so that Mom and I can be co-presidents. It is both a coincidence and fitting that this should happen on my mom's birthday.

Also, every July 4th, one of the local TV channels in Omaha would play "Yankee Doodle Dandy - The Story of George M. Cohan". You have heard me sing the songs "Yankee Doodle Dandy", "It's A Grand Old Flag" and "Over There" for years. When I went downstairs to exercise today, I found that today, of all days, one of the channels was playing the movie. After exercising, I went upstairs to show Mom what was on and, when I turned it on, the song that was being sung was "Mary - Grand As Any Name Can Be". Now, as I end this message to you, the movie is at the point where Cohan receives the Congressional Medal of Honor for his "contributions to the American spirit" and he says that he does not deserve it. Then, President Roosevelt says that a person can give his life to others in many different ways and quite often he is not the best judge of how much he has given. Those words make me think of Mary Arbitman Fellman, and the love and lessons that she gave to all of us - probably without ever fully knowing her legacy.

So, as we celebrate her life today, I want you to be assured that she would be celebrating our lives and would be so proud of each of us.

I love you with my life.

Searching

I listen intently to the silence
Searching for secrets and lessons.

I peer intently into the skies
Searching for the the beginning and the end of infinity.

I look intently inside of myself
Searching for questions and answers.

I roam intently through life
Searching, always searching.

I Love Life

I love life.
I love my life.
But let me be perfectly honest.
Life is going by too quickly.
How can my children be as old as they are?
How can my marriage be as long (and yet as fresh) as it is?
How can I have lived for so many minutes, hours, days, months and years?
How can I, in reality, have so few moments remaining?
One of the the great challenges of aging is not to reflect on and dissect the past (though that certainly is important),
But
To look forward with the recognition of the rapidly approaching horizon and
To decide how to spend the remaining time we have
Whether it be an instant or decades
For whatever the period, it is a lifetime

Your Next Step - One Leads To The Other

As you take the next step in your journey of life,

May you always be helpful, courteous and kind to others, and
May you always be blessed with others who are helpful, courteous and kind to you . . .
One leads to the other.

May you always be patient with and compassionate to yourself, and
May you always be patient with and compassionate to others . . .
One leads to the other.

May you always reach out to comfort those in need, and
May you always be comforted in your times of need . . .
One leads to the other.

May you always respect others. and
May you always be respected by others . . .
One leads to the other.

May you always helps others find the strength to endure their difficult times, and
May you always have the strength to endure the difficult times you will experience . . .
On leads to the other

May you always forgive yourself for the mistakes you will make, and
May you always forgive others for their mistakes . . .
One leads to the other.

May you always extend a welcoming and helping hand to others, and
May you always find a welcoming and helping hand when you reach out . . .
One leads to the other.

May you always open the door for others who are on the outside, and
May you always find an open door when you are on the outside wanting in . . .
One leads to the other.

May you always give the warmth of companionship and caring, and
May you always receive the warmth of the companionship and caring of others . . .
One leads to the other.

May you always ease the pain of others, and
May you always have your pain eased by others . . .
One leads to the other.

May you never reject and desert others, and
May you never be rejected and deserted by others . . .
One leads to the other.

May you always be a good and loyal friend, and
May you always have good and loyal friends . . .
One leads to the other.

May you always like and respect the person you see in the mirror, and
May the person in the mirror always like and respect you . . .
One leads to the other.

May you always create peace in the lives of others, and
May you always find peace in your life . . .
One leads to the other.

May you always give love to the others in your life, and
May you always find love in your life . . .
One leads to the other.

One leads to the other
For just as the love you get
Is equal to the love you give,
So too are all things connected.

Birthday Reflections – Thankfulness (The Third of Three Reflections)

Recently I was honored by my Temple community,
and I am thankful for the honor and the recognition,
for who would not be.

Yet, the greatest part of the honor was the opportunity
to publicly express my love and thankfulness
for my family and for the life that I have been given.

We each are thrust into this world
at a certain (or perhaps uncertain) time and place, and
from there we are expected to make the best of what we have.

Though we often hear that our lives are in our hands and
that each person has an equal opportunity,
I do not believe that to be the case
for we each have different starting points, different abilities, different benefits and detriments.

So perhaps all that can be expected is that
we each do the best with what we have
in a world that is neither fair not level.

I can only hope that I have done my best
to do well with what I have been given, and
that my life will have done a minimal of harm and,
if I am lucky that my life will have been for some good

Birthday Reflections – Redemption (The Second of Three Reflections)

Who among us is not constantly in need of redemption?

Only one who does not need . . .

To change paths and recapture purity
To apply the lessons of life to future actions
To use accumulated knowledge to adjust or remake

I for one seek and need such redemption . . . constantly.

Who among us has the right to stand in judgment?

Only one without . . .

Actions that are regretted
Decisions that would not be taken back
Words that we would not withheld

I for one am not able to stand in judgment, but can only offer insight and advice.

Who among us has the right to withhold support and faith?

Only one who . . .

Lives without others
Moves through the world without attachment
Exists independent of the need for human contact

I for one needs and will give support and faith.

Who among does not believe in the possibility of redemption?

Only one who fails to see . . .

The magnificence of evolution
The rebirth of the phoenix
The progressions throughout life

I for one know that redemption is possible and necessary.

Though I know that I cannot recapture my youth nor relive any portion of my life, I know that I have the opportunity with each year, each day, each hour, each minute, each second and each moment to seek and find redemption.

Birthday Reflections – Air (The First of Three Reflections)

From the moment of birth
When we leave the nurturing water
We are always enveloped by air
Warm or cool, moist or dry, thick or thin

Always providing life’s sustenance
Wrapping us in its stillness
Preserving, protecting and sustaining
Blowing over and around us

Its speed and direction created
By our own decisions,
Our motions through time and space,
Or causes and conditions beyond our knowledge and control

We luxuriate as the air stimulates our senses
Reacting as each change in the air changes us
Relishing the movement across our bodies, and
The awareness that is created.

The day will come
When the air no longer sustains or preserves me
When I will not feel or react to its changing temperature or composition
When I will be the dust that flies through the air
But that day is not today . . . it is not today.

For today is a day to breath deeply
To run through the fields and feel the wind rushing by
To be still and feel the wind gently wrapping me
To breath in life and exhale happiness and contentment

For life is good . . . life is good, and
I will breath of it . . . deeply.

Birthday Reflections

Birthdays are wonderful times to reflect and so, on the day before my birthday, my gift to myself is the reflections that are in the following three posts.

Playing with Sounds

Poet Pinsky pronounced prose proudly propelling pupils purposefully.

Rabbi, rubbing raggedly rising rough rubble, responded rapidly.

Dorothy danced dandily deciphering difficult diverse dramatic dialect deftly.

Writing Myself A Letter

Neil Young sings of sitting down and writing a letter,
To all the good friends that he's known,
But perhaps we each should write ourselves that letter
For shouldn't we be the best friend that we each know.

Thoughts are fleeting and too easily forgotten
They can be revised as we move forward
Without memorialization, our thoughts are without conviction
They do not hold us accountable.

The written word, however, remains and reminds
It allows us to challenge and to test ourselves
It forces us to be accountable
And in the end, it motivates us to be better.

And so, I write myself this short letter:

Let me make my life one of substance, not of substances,
One in which each day is filled with meaning and movement upward.
Let me not be diverted by the pursuit of the material
To the extent that I miss the paths to all that truly is important.

The paths of loving and connecting,
The paths of learning and sharing,
The paths of thinking and creating,
The paths that will make this world a better place for all.

Let me avoid the paths that lead only to the material
For such paths are so tempting and enticing,
Filled with games having an easy scorecard,
But it is a scorecard in what is ultimately a meaningless game.

Let me find joy in the wonders of life
In the questions that can only be asked and pondered
The questions for which there are no answers
And let me be reminded that there is joy in the pursuit.

Let me remember each day to appreciate life
Simply because I am blessed to have life
For the value of life for me is that I exist
And with that knowledge, let me cherish and respect all life

Let me remember that with each tick of the clock
Those seconds become reflections in the rear view mirror
While the seconds, the minutes and all the time that awaits in the future
Are on the horizon in a direction we must choose.

Let me count my blessings daily
Let me face challenges with strength and conviction
Let me always have my hopes and my dreams
Let me find the places where I am serene

Let me remember that while storms may rage
The sun will always shine again.
Let me remember that the rain nourishes the earth
And the sun will always shine again.

My Neighborhood

I have a neighborhood where the doors are open
And I am welcome to visit any time I want
No need to make an appointment or ask permission
I just let myself in and look around.

Sometimes I come in through the front entry
And proceed in an orderly fashion from the front to the exit at the rear
Sometimes I come in through the side or even through the back
And just jump around from place to place in no particular order.

I find the most amazing jewels as I explore
Some are bright and shiny so there is no mistaking their value
Others do not appear to be jewels at all until
I turn them and turn them examining each facet closely.

I hold each found jewel carefully until I can hold no more
For certainly the doors have been left open and the jewels displayed for me to do so,
Yet somehow when I return home, I am holding fewer jewels than I left with
Though I can't imagine how some vanished, at least I held them for a moment.

The most wonderful part about my neighborhood
Is that when I revisit a location, the original jewels still are there
And there always are more jewels that must have been hidden away
Or more likely, I just missed them on my prior visits.

I would like to thank everyone in my neighborhood
But I won't be able to send a proper thank you or to find them
So perhaps just a shout in the neighborhood will have to do
And when I do, this is what I will say

Thank you for gift of the places that you have created
With such care that they shall last forever.

Thank you for leaving such beautiful jewels
For me to hold, to examine and to take with me.

Thank you for always being there in my neighborhood
So I always know where to find you.

Thank you my dear friends:
Shakespeare, Fitzgerald and Vonnegut,
Conrad, Lewis and Salinger,
Steinbeck, Orwell and Golding,
Hesse, Casaneda and Quinn,
Asimov, Tolkien and Bradbury,
Diamant, Dawkins and Armstrong,
And to all of the others who have resided there from time to time.

The Trio

Scott's scowl sent scared children scurrying
For Scott was a bully without the benefit of any benevolence
Living with an exterior persona larger than life
With an interior that was just a jumble of jarring confusion

Greg was Scott's henchmen extraordinaire, the enforcer
Of tremendous build for one of such tender age
His height and girth topped with childish blond curls
But for his demeanor, he could have been a dandy

Tony topped off the tremendously powerful trio
The best looking boy of the bunch
His smile able to smoothly switch from love to loathing
Reflecting his mood of the minute marvelously.

Together they traveled toward the edge
While everyone watched wanting to join but wary of doing so
For from that repulsive power arose an attraction
Harnessed and held in check by unknown forces.

Scott eventually died in an accident in which he lost his ear
The ear that had been deaf to the pleas of so many
Greg eventually was sent away for life
Imprisoned just as he had imprisoned others.
Tony eventually turned the corner in time
Finding himself in the service of god.

And those attracted by their awesome childhood power
Continued to live on the edge looking in.

Where I Travel and Live

I travel many roads and live in many places
Often losing my way
Always finding my home.

I travel on the surface
Sometimes diving into the depths
Until I need to breath.

I travel at my own speed
Slower is boring
Faster is scary.

I travel toward the sunrise
Sometimes it looks like the sunset
But I am wrong.

I live in uncertainty
I sometimes visit certainty
But I always return.

I live in shades of grey
I sometimes see black and white
But it is just a mirage.

I live in ambiguity
A comfortable place
Without sharp edges.

I live in hope
I sometimes visit despair
But I always return.

I live surrounded by trees
Knowing I am in the forest
Somewhere.

I am home.

All Is A Miracle

The following are lyrics, the music remains in my head

On the day I was born
The sun was a shining
The birds they were a singing
The birds they were flying

I let out a cry
As I opened my eyes
Everything was brand new
Everything a surprise

All was a miracle
The road lay ahead
Each breath was a blessing
Nothing needed to be said

I try to hold onto
That feeling I felt
On my very first day
Its inside of myself

So every morning
As I'm reborn again
As I open my eyes
And let the sun shine in

I hear the birds singing
I know they are flying
I love this life
No need for crying

All still is a miracle
There's road still ahead
Every breath's still a blessing
Nothing more needs to be said.










--
Ron Fellman

Prayers of a Child and an Adult

I do not remember being taught the words, perhaps my mother and father instructed me in the phrases to say and perhaps I learned it from listening to my brother give voice to the evening ritual, but however I learned the words, they certainly were internalized at a very early age.

Shema Israel Adonai Eloheynu Adonai Echad Here O'Israel, The Lord is our God, The Lord is one, Bless Mommy and Daddy, Mark and Marsha, Bobi and Papa, Papa Fellman, all of my aunts and uncles and cousins, Anna, Scissors and all of our cats, Keep them all well. Amen.

I do not remember the feelings that those words brought to me, but I assume that they were comforting and allowed me to believe that I had some sort of influence in the world and that there was something greater than me that watched over everyone who I cared about.

I do not remember when the child's bedtime prayer faded from the nightly ritual. I wonder if even after I stopped saying the words aloud I would whisper them to myself - a big boy who was not so big on the inside as he was on the outside.

Like so many other rituals of life, the evening prayer, even the eternal one, eventually faded away without reason, without thought, without a feeling of loss.

But like music that is buried deep within us in a manner that allows us to remember the words and tunes from 30 and more years ago, even as we cannot remember the book we read last year (or even last week), the words of the little boy's evening prayer remain within me.

And so, I find that recently, the child's prayer has reappeared in a new form based on current beliefs, but perhaps serving at least part of the same purpose. The oneness of the child's god has been replaced by a belief in the oneness of all that has been, all that is and all that will be. And so, the adult's evening prayer is one without words, but is simply the nightly attempt to envision the moment of the big bang when out of seeming nothingness (can there be such a thing), to find in the total blackness the sudden burst of a single point of light, rapidly growing until all that there is is light. But, try as I might, I cannot create that vision, neither the blackness of nothing, nor the single point of light. Yet, perhaps it is not the creation of the vision as much as the attempt to create the vision that is important, for it serves as a reminder that we all come from that moment in time.

And, now, in recent days, I have added a morning ritual to remind myself of the glorious opportunity of the day that awaits me. It is not a standard liturgy, but it does create an awareness, The ritual . . . singing Zippity Do Da followed by Let the Sun Shine In and ending with Wonderful World.

So, within me remains the child and perhaps that is one of the miracles of life.

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
My, oh my, what a wonderful day
Plenty of sunshine headin' my way
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay

Mister Bluebird's on my shoulder
It's the truth, it's actual
Ev'rything is satisfactual
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
Wonderful feeling, wonderful day.

So let the sun shine in
Face it with a grin
Smilers never lose
And frowners never win
So let the sun shine in
Face it with a grin
Open up your heart and let the sun shine in

I see trees of green........ red roses too
I see em bloom..... for me and for you
And I think to myself.... what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue..... clouds of white
Bright blessed days....dark sacred nights
And I think to myself .....what a wonderful world.

The colors of a rainbow.....so pretty ..in the sky
Are also on the faces.....of people ..going by
I see friends shaking hands.....sayin.. how do you do
Theyre really sayin......i love you.

I hear babies cry...... I watch them grow
Theyll learn much more.....than Ill never know
And I think to myself .....what a wonderful world

Stepping Back Into The Water

October 3, 2009

After a four month plus period of not posting entries, it is time to return. For anyone who is interested, I will explain in a later entry why I believe the rest was required, but for now, to get any new readers started and to get me revitalized, I simply will re-post a few of my favorites (and, in reviewing my posts, I found that there were many that I do not like as much now as when they were written). Since during the last four months I have spent a significant amount of time reading books on religion and spirituality, I will re-post some posts that are, at some level related to those subjects. Thanks for reading this journal and feel free to look through the archive to find a piece that you like. Also, feel free to post a comment (or not) as you desire.

The following first was posted on April 19, 2009:

In 1867, Emma Lazarus (of “Give Me your Tired” fame) wrote “In the Jewish Synagogue at Newport” which was in response to Henry Wadsworth’s Longfellow’s poem, The Jewish Cemetery at Newport”. Those poems inspired the following entry (Emma Lazarus' is below) – no other comparison or connection is intended.


In the sanctuary, the noises of the outside world
Have been left at the entry threshold
In preparation for uninterrupted reflection
Illuminated by the glow of the past, present and future.

The living and those whose living breath is no more surround
Sounds of prayer fill the space from without and within
Dappled pages with foreign symbols are a harbinger of the journey
All beckons to an encounter with the miraculous spiritual world.

An expedition of perpetual exploration and self-discovery
Where the individual is elevated to a place within the human spirit
Never losing relevance even while being bound with and within the generations
From humankind’s birth through all that was, all that is and all that will be.

Gazing into the layered depths of time and understanding
We are the departing slaves, the bedraggled victims, the huddled masses of immigrants
The sages who ascended to a godly view of all creation
The sculptors and painters of life in every age.

Absorbed in and by all of the elements
Wrapped in the warmth of time, place and life’s vitality
Taking a nostalgic climb through internal seasons
With a personal lens to search for the paradise within.

I am transported to the days of beginning and youth
In another sanctuary thousands of days and miles away
Connected by invisible cords braided like a Sabbath challah
Illuminated by a warm glow like that from the Shabbat candles.

Playing endlessly with the macramé tzitzit of my father's tallis
Four with eight with five forming heart strings which unite all
Watching my mother’s face as she gazes into an unseen world
With a Moses like glow on her face and a tear in her eye.

Rising and falling with other congregants like ocean waves
Learning melodies and words lasting through sometimes lost relevance
Growing year by year toward understanding and conformity, distinction and separation
Watching the changing of the guard as the youth stand on the shoulders of the elders.

And then the internal scroll of life’s story is rolled and dressed
Stored lovingly until the next never-ending return to the sanctuary within
Where defining moments are recorded in mystical ways
The abstract leading to clarity, myth transforming into philosophy.

And still, the physical world awaits just outside the sanctuary
Yet re-entry will be by one who has been further bonded to the oneness of all
Whose way of being in the world has been modified though ever so slightly
Whose path has been varied by another journey of self and generational discovery.




In the Jewish Synagogue at Newport

Here, where the noises of the busy town,
The ocean's plunge and roar can enter not,
We stand and gaze around with fearful awe, 

And muse upon the consecrated spot.

No signs of life are here: the very prayers,

Inscribed around are in a language dead,
The light of the "perpetual lamp" is spent 

That an undying radiance was to shed.

What prayers were in this temple offered up, 

Wrung from sad hearts that knew no joy on earth,

By these lone exiles of a thousand years,

From the fair sunrise land that gave them birth!

Now as we gaze, in this new world of light,

Upon this relic of the days of old,

The present vanishes, and tropic bloom

And Eastern towns and temples we behold.

Again we see the patriarch with his flocks,

The purple seas, the hot sky o'erhead,
The slaves of Egypt--omens, mysteries--

Dark fleeing hosts by flaming angels led.

A wondrous light upon a sky-kissed mount,

A man who reads Jehovah's written law,

'Midst blinding glory and effulgence rare,

Unto a people prone with reverent awe.

The pride of luxury's barbaric pomp,

In the rich court of royal
Solomon-- 
Alas! we wake: one scene alone remains

The exiles by the streams of Babylon.

Our softened voices send us back again 

But mournful echoes through the empty hall;

Our footsteps have a strange, unnatural sound,

And with unwonted gentleness they fall.

The weary ones, the sad, the suffering,
All found their comfort in the holy place,

And children's gladness, and men's gratitude

Took voice and mingled in the chant of praise.

The funeral and the marriage, now, alas!

We know not which is sadder to recall; 

For youth and happiness have followed age,

And green grass lieth gently over all.


And still the shrine is holy yet,

With its lone floors where reverent feet once trod.

Take off your shoes as by the burning bush,

Before the mystery of death and God.




Just Call Me

Just call me in the morning
Just call me when it rains
Just call me when you need me
And I’ll come back again

You can call with a whisper
You can call me with a shout
You can call me in your heart
I’ll be with you have no doubt

Though you cannot see me
You can feel me in your soul
Trust that I am always there
In your heart that's what you know

When your walking down the road
You are never really alone
I am always by your side
Guiding you to your home

Call me when you rise
And when you work and when you play
Call me where ever you are
I’ll be there at the end of each day.

I've Always Been A Writer

Well I've always been a writer
Though it seems to come and go
I love to put the words down
Letting them find a place to go

Like a composer at the piano
Finding notes that make a song
Like a painter at the easel
Moving colors around and along

Like an inventor at the work bench
Trying to make something new
Like a scientist in the lab
Find which theories are true

Like a chef in the kitchen
Mixing ingredients for the right taste
Like a sculptor with his tools
Carving carefully not in haste

Well I've always been a writer
Though it seems to come and go
I love to put the words down
And let them find a place to go