May. I have patience?

77% Weekly Newsletter

May. I have patience?

Beloved, It’s May. Which is, pardon the bad pun, A-may-zing. The calendar seems to have flipped from March to May instantly. Time flies like an arrow. (And pardon the dad joke: fruit flies like bananas.) — All minutes (or any other quantity of time) are not the same length. Some time passes quickly. Some slowly. Zall’s second law: “HOW LONG A MINUTE IS DEPENDS ON WHICH SIDE OF THE BATHROOM DOOR YOU’RE ON.” — And. Time does not pass on my schedule. — I don’t publish an article on the last Monday of the month to remind us that 77% is often enough, and pushing ourselves constantly to strive for perfection is deleterious to our souls. And a tradition started this year: the first article of the month is a chatty one. So here we are, chatting about time and patience. — I really thought I’d have the book done and in your hands by now. But the launch is happening on its schedule. Which isn’t the same as the schedule I had in mind. And, that dissonance can lead to frustration. So, I practice patience. — It’s hard to stay patient. But what choice do I have? Suffer with being frustrated? — I’m learning to talk compassionately to myself—as I would to a 10-year old—acknowledging that the thing I want is not happening (or going to happen on my timeline) and reminding myself that it’s OK to feel frustrated. — I’m frustrated that the book isn’t yet in your hands. — Happy May! 💙rB Rabbi Brian Zachary May-er

“I love you” x 3

For reasons a team of psychoanalysts might have been able to crack, my dad couldn’t get the three-word phrase “I love you” to come out of his mouth. I knew he loved us. It’s just he couldn’t say it. I rationalized that I didn’t need to hear those three words, but it hurt anyway. This is the story about how

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Truth Matters

I am standing in Kenya, with my left foot in the Northern Hemisphere and my right foot in the Southern. A line on the ground indicates the equator. Young men—asking for nothing, but hoping for tips—entertain and educate tourists, like me, about the Coriolis effect. They pour water into bowls with small holes at the bottom and let the water

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Stuff Gets To Me

✧✧✧ As I pack up to leave after my workout, someone asks me, “Hey, Rabbi, how are things going?” I’m not one for small talk. Especially after being called by my title. “Well,” I reply. “I’m sad.” “Why?” “I’m thinking about the girls who went to school in the morning in Minab, Iran—over a hundred of them—killed by a bomb.”

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77% Weekly Newsletter
77% Weekly Newsletter