
Shauna, mi amor
_08/30/1998_ Dear Diary, I met the remarkable Shauna Jean Malone today. And she is remarkable. I can even prove it, Dear Diary? I’m remarking

Breadcrumb a hard time.
As you know, I send a spiritualigious newsletter every Monday, except for the last Monday of the month. Last Monday, January 30, you received the

Newel Post Acceptance
******* GRACE & ACCEPTANCE *** Before his magical visit with Clarence, the wood finial atop the newel post at 320 Sycamore comes off in George

This thing of which we are in pursuit
***This thing of which we are in pursuit*** Imagine, if you would, that you are in a class or lecture of mine. It’s

Captioning
Every week, The New Yorker magazine gives readers a cartoon in need of a caption. My friend Melissa won contest #733. I think it’s so

Complaining
Two Thankfully-Ruined Gratitude Practices *** She ruined two gratitude practices.Two. One person.She ruined two gratitude practices I had enjoyed and heretofore had swore

Unlearning
The young, Soviet-raised, Gen Y—a group who would be reclassified outside relation to my cohort (Generation X) and instead be based on the calendar —

Good Enough. Mediocraties.
Ehh, good enough *** “Not cool, Doc,” my 25-year-old self, living in Los Angeles, attending rabbinical school, and falling in love with the woman

BAD MOOD
I’m in a horrible fucking mood. Deal with the cuss word. We are adults. The g.d. vending machine at the airport took the $10

Authored
Authored? Authorized? I’m thinking about having a co-author for this book I’m writing. However, I’ve not yet decided. *** Assuming you are holding

Anti-Racism
# Anti-racism *** If you’ve missed the recent _ROTB Saturday spiritualigious service gatherings_, we’ve been talking a bit about being an anti-racist. Catch up by

Disappointment
Disappointment Kim, who bakes the artisanal matzah I annually send to friends throughout the US, tested COVID positive in the weeks before Passover, when

Ninny
Forgive the Ninnies I’m little. Nine years old. Or six, maybe. I don’t remember. We’re at a rodeo. My sister, my mom, my dad. Why?

Dear God
Dear God, I’ve not written for a while. I’d say, it’s because conceptualizing you as other, separate from me, doesn’t sit well with my mature

Attachment. Non. Merci.
Attachment. Non. Merci. We get attached to concrete objects—dishes, cell phones, cars, houses. We get attached to ideas—roles we play and maintaining this is