Never Done: Knit on the subway
Never Done: S'menore
There are 13 mides (middot) but not one for what I need most right now: Balance.
Humility: seek wisdom from everybody
Patience: Do not aggravate a situation with wasted grief
Equanimity: Rise above events that are inconsequential
Truth: Say nothing unless you are 100% sure it is true
Decisiveness: When you have made a decision, act without hesitation
Cleanliness: Let no stain or ugliness on our self/space
Order: All actions and possessions should have a set place and time
Righteousness: What is hateful to you do not do to others
Frugality: Be careful with your money
Diligence: Always find something to do
Silence: Reflect before speaking
Calmness: Words of the wise are stated gently
Separation: Respect in sexual and intimate relationships
For the past month, I've been trying to squeeze balance into Patience, Equanimity, Truth, and Decisiveness, but really -- I need to meditate on a mide that would be something like: Balance: Do not let your board responsibilities screw your work life.
It feels vulnerable to write about this, but I think I should write about challenges that I am not overcoming easily with the use of Mussar, as well as the ones I am. As I've mentioned before, I am working on JFREJ's annual Marshall T. Meyer Risk Taker Awards, which are scheduled for tonight (and if you are in or near New York, you should come!) We hired Nikki to be our event coordinator, and she is doing a phenomenally wonderful job -- she is organized, effective, frugal, calm ... wait a second -- she pretty much embodies all the elements of the Mussar mides above! We also have a JFREJ staff administrator, Sarah, who has also been wonderful -- both in an ongoing way, and for the Meyer Awards. And we have a small, strong committee made up of member and board volunteers who have put in tons of effective, productive time -- to produce this event.
I'm not sure how everyone else who has been working so hard on the Meyer Awards feels, or how well they have been able to keep a balance of their commitments, but I've been wobbling for weeks, and I finally toppled over yesterday: I had a big grant deadline, and I did not make it because I gave too much of my time to JFREJ and not enough to my job.
People who know me know that this is not the first time I have had this kind of balance problem. It has gotten better, and then it sometimes gets worse. This time, I (along with the others) tried to address it from the start, by assessing capacity and planning the event to be manageable given our capacity. But somehow it grew, or we shrank. I can only speak for myself, but I ended up putting 20-30 hours a week into this event for the past weeks. This meant I stayed up way too late trying to squeeze everything in, an it also meant, eventually, that I just didn't get my own work done. I tried to be patient about it, and I tried to figure out what was consequential and not, and I tried to act decisively, and I looked ahead into the upcoming week's mides, and especially pulled on Order: all actions should have a set place and time. And still, I toppled.
So, there I was yesterday, at the moment when I realized it was no longer possible to complete the grant by deadline, and I felt shitty. I thought about going to the gym, which I hadn't done in 2 days, and I thought about sneaking around the corner to see the Harry Potter movie, which I haven't had time to do yet, and I thought about writing the essay part of my adoption application, which I need to do, and just then, my friend Michele sent me an email telling me about a roundtable discussion with the Director of the Celiac Center, way up on 168th Street at Columbia University Medical Center. I have been on the waiting list to see a doctor there since September, and my appointment is not until late January. In the meantime, I have been trying to figure out what I should be doing to get an accurate diagnosis. My doctor did genetic testing, and I did come up with one of two genes for celiac. That just means I'm pre-disposed; it doesn't mean I have it. She then asked me to go on a gluten-rich diet, and wanted to test my blood for antibodies to gluten after 4-6 weeks. All the reading I've done has shown me that the best diagnosis comes from 3 months on a gluten-rich diet, and an endoscopy. I've been calling the Celiac Center every week to see if they had any cancellations, and I've asked if someone could consult with me about this preparation for diagnosis process, but they have told me I had to wait til I see someone. Meanwhile, it is physically uncomfortably in a number of ways to be eating so much wheat, so I don't want to be doing this wrong.
So when I got the invitation to meet the director of the Celiac Center (and as it turned out, the geneticist and the nutritionist) and ask questions in an informal setting, I decided to ride an hour north. And it was completely worth it. There were about 10 people there, and we all got to ask the questions we needed to, and we all got the answers we wanted. (Except maybe the woman who was obsessing over whether wine has gluten in it, and after all three professionals told her no, she kept talking about the flour paste vintners wash the wooden barrels with, and the gluten fillers American winemakers put into wine...) I found out that I am not eating enough gluten to prepare for testing, that I do need to do it for 3 months, and that while a blood test can be interesting, it is completely inconclusive -- especially at the lab my doctor uses, which doesn't run a full antibody panel. I found out that I can put gluten powder in a smoothie (and that gluten powder even exists.) I found out that the gene I have is the more common of the two to have. And I found out that I am probably not going to get an appointment before my scheduled appointment, but now that I know how to be prepping, that seems OK with me. It turned out to be an excellent use of my time.
And to make it even more fruitful, I took the knitting project I pulled out during Crafternoon -- the long lacy scarf I found in my mom's knitting box -- and I started it on the subway. I have knit in a lot of places before -- classrooms, living rooms, planes. But I haven't knit since moving to NYC, so I have never knit on a subway. It turns out it's like an amulet. People leave the seat next to you free (so your arms can move freely?) and they smile at you. I am never riding the subway without my knitting again.
One more thing. Seventh night s'menore:
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