Kind

I am biking towards Annie’s school.
She forgot her ring binder at home.

I remember being in middle school, frustrating my parents with my not-yet-adult frontal cortex and executive function. I forgot things all the time.

As I bike past the construction site where the school ball-field is getting a redone, I realize, “I forgot a mask!”
I can’t get the bag to her at school without a mask. They won’t let me in.

(This was written a few weeks ago.)

“I’ll turn around at the roundabout ahead,” I continue in my thoughts. Although, dang it, this will put me behind schedule.
Quickly, I burrow down the rabbit hole of panic about time.

Fortunately, I’m working at moments like these to imagine my grandfather’s Yiddish-infused, soft, teasing voice asking “And, who’s in such a rush?”

I laugh a little and recheck my pockets.

No mask, but I remember I checked before I left to see that I had pens and index and there was a mask in the side pocket of my backpack still in it’s wrapper.

Who understands how memory works?

No need to return home.

As I fantasize about the joy of using a fresh mask I realize, indeed, I am, at this moment, wearing a mask!

I smile, glad that I didn’t beat myself up. (I used to.)

Being a human requires much grace.

Be kind.

—

I credit my ability to be kind to myself with my meditation practice which has (1) taught me to watch my thoughts and (2) given me the opportunity to practice gentle mental corrections.

I can’t guarantee you’ll have the same results and I can’t tell you that it will be easy, but sitting for 20 minutes without a task might help you, too.

If you would like to sit with me, (most) every weekday at 2pm PST, I sit and broadcast it live to Facebook, YouTube, and ROTB’s website.

You are welcome to join me.

My Letter to Habakkuk

February 26, 2026

✧✧✧ To my dearest pen pal, Habbakuk: First, let me say, no one remembers the prophets who did not deliver on the goods. Your predictions came true. And, 2500+ years later, you are still remembered. Do you remember Lenny, that guy? Kept going around Judea telling people “the goats will lay down in green pastures,” and, then, remember? It

Me, Rabbi.

February 25, 2026

✧✧✧ I am a rabbi. I have a Masters Degree in Hebrew letters and a Doctorate of Divinity, and I am ordained as a rabbi. I have each credential framed, in my office, just behind where I sit. They’re not individually affixed to the wall—they lean against one another in a stack. I like the

Way Through

February 14, 2026

✧✧✧ Hugh’s dad died a few weeks ago. Hugh is a dear friend and Presbyterian minister in Waterloo (just west of Toronto), Ontario, Canada. I call, we small-talk for a while, and then I ask, “How is your heart?” “I appreciate you asking. My heart is heavy and sad.” ✧✧✧ I love Hugh.I mean, how many people do you know

Kind