Introspective musings from last night and my dvar

Last night I delivered a talk to my synagogue, what we call a dvar Torah for the annual Trans Day of Remembrance. It’s all rather new for me, as I spent a lifetime avoiding public speaking, a result of a childhood traumatic experience. I chuckle that now at 75, I’m finally confronting that fear head on.

So, the sanctuary was filled, and my moment came. I tied the remembrance of Avraham (Abraham) and Sara to our own remembrance of trans lives lost to murder, and the terrible toll it takes on the rest of us, ending with an excerpt of a spoken word piece I’d written several years ago after the murder of two trans women in Washington DC.

What followed was something I was totally unprepared for. Accolades from the members of my community, including the Zoom Makom Minyan. Am I ever so grateful for that moment. My emotions were all over the place, for this was foreign territory for me. I’m just not accustomed to praise, I guess. It was a moment that was satisfying, for continuing to overcome that lifelong fear, but also a community that demonstrated loving support in a spectacular way. After, I got to speak with Kochava for a few minutes, and then to the bubbe (Grandmother) of the Bat Mitzvah girl for this week. She was a poet and I wanted to talk more, but my transit driver arrived, and I had to leave. ::chuckling:: Anyone who knows me knows I like to schmooze. That was my one regret for the evening, having to leave so soon.

So in this moment of introspection, I am filled with gratitude. My Shir Tikvah congregation is teaching me in profound ways. At this old age, to be conquering a childhood trauma is spectacular. I am grateful to Rabbi Joey who asked me if I would deliver this Dvar, and his support as I put it all together. I’m grateful to Rabbi Arielle for her kind words and a voice like an angel. To Dan Nadel whose music I have appreciated for a long time and how wonderful to be seated by him as he worked his magic. Thank you Shir Tikvah who have shown chesed (loving kindness) in so many ways. I feel such love for you all!

Shavua tov!

Time to Choose: Democracy or Fascism

It saddens me to see what is happening in America today. Okay as a teenager, I helped a guy out on his farm once building fences. His son brought me to his bedroom, pulled out a box, showing all sorts of Nazi paraphernalia. A bit disgusting, but no great alarm. I as a progressive had no illusions of jack-booted marchers coming down the streets tearing up shops, burning synagogues, taking people to concentration camps. No, just one deluded soul enamored by a society that had brought so much mayhem.

Now though, there is ample cause for concern. For the record, I’m Jewish, transgender, lesbian. The embrace of fascism (or Christian Nationalism, Nazism was a Christian Nationalist state lest we forget) by a major political party is on display for all to see. Conspiracy theories abound, antisemitism confronts us at every turn, transphobia, homophobia, and misogyny are being written into law in state after state. There was the attack on our capitol on January 6. 4 years ago, we saw the worse antisemitic attack in American history at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburg. Antisemitism is increasing at every turn on the right, but tragically increasingly on the left as well. A few years ago, trans murders were in the low 20’s, but last year and this, they have doubled. Just last night someone broke into Nancy Pelosi’s house looking for her and attacking her husband. Democratic lawmakers increasingly are getting death threats.

I heard today that the Department of Justice has issued an alert fearing possible violence at the polls. How do I feel about all that’s going on?

I’M ANGRY AS HELL ABOUT IT. Around the world, democracies are in peril. I look at folks like Putin, and their embrace of fascism and the number of people in America, Republicans, who increasingly look to him as their ideal. Our former president who virtually salivated in the presence of the likes of a Putin or Kim Jong Un. These extremists in America have their own news sources, and with the new owner of Twitter, an outlet for their propaganda.

I know this. If you are a refugee, a black or brown person, a Jew, a Muslim, a member of the LGBTQ plus community, a woman (unless you are one of the good ones who is subservient and obedient), then fascists will use you as a scapegoat. That is how they get and hold power. The more power they get, the more they will attack.

I mentioned I’m Jewish. I’ve studied the history around the holocaust. More importantly, I’ve talked to people who survived, either by getting out in time, or enduring the horrors of those dark days. They tell me that it feels now, very similar to what it felt like in the months and years leading up to the Shoah. I believe them.

So, it is my prayer, that we do what we can. This election means EVERYTHING! I believe deeply our very democracy is at stake. I have already voted, and I hope every thinking man and woman does the same. I’ve spent seventy-five years living in a democracy. Please do not let it end now. We must not fear, but we must prevail. Jessica Wicks 10-29-22

Memories: A Gift to Heart

Memories. As I age, they become such an important piece of my life. A scent, a photo, a turn of a phrase can take me back in unexpected ways. Perhaps a smile, even a giggle, a tear, any, or all. The other day, my wife was mumbling to herself. Immediately I am sitting in the living room in the early 90’s and my partner Skip is having a conversation with himself. I ask him if he’s talking to himself and he shoots right back saying, “Only intelligent conversation I can too often have.” We both laugh out loud.

I love the mountains, always have. When I was younger, I would travel, sometimes with my daughter, often with cousins, or sometimes alone. We would hike on mountain trails, communing with nature, and from their peaks look out on the magnificent view down below. We might travel to the Rockies, perhaps the Ozark or Ouachita Mountains, always an amazing two weeks to recharge and interact with the natural world.

The photo above was a mountain stream near Petit Jean State Park in Arkansas. My daughter put on her bathing suit and let the cold mountain water wash over her. I love her and miss her so. Like much of my family, my transness was simply too much. But I will always love her… and… I have the memories. Even as I type this, a smile, and a tear.

So here I sit, old and disabled, but always the possibility of those journeys into the past, a smile and a tear. Outside the leaves have turned yellow and a brilliant red for Autumn is upon us. With that, memories as well. They are a true gift, filling my heart with what has past, lest the void in my present take full hold. There are no more mountains, no more strolls or rigorous climbs to experience the fullness of HaShem’s creation. I do what I can do, volunteer work, my writing (memories again), occasional D’var Torah with my synagogue. Brightened along the way with another moment in time engraved firmly within this heart. I do not wish for youth, but mobility, perhaps some. But I do have love, friends, and the blessing experience formed as memory. Jessica Wicks 10-28-2022

Disability and Steep Stairs

So, it’s been a while since my last posting here. December of 2000. Pain made it too difficult to write. Finally at long last, a purchase of a lap desk made all the difference. I’m writing again!

Since I last posted here, I realized I must surrender my license. Immobility made it unsafe for me to drive anymore. I deeply miss that ability to simply make my way down steep stairs, using one wheelchair to let the other down to the sidewalk, take apart the wheelchair so I can fit it in the trunk, using a strong-arm cane to keep my balance, then hopping into the car and going where I want to go. Hmmm… well maybe not so simply.

I had considered a move, but between current inflation and economic uncertainty, it seems to be a bit risky right now. I think in my heart this kind of thing is not uncommon among the elderly. I have no family nearby, and while I crave that human interaction that was such a part of my life for so long, I am relegated to hours, days, weeks of alone time. Oh, my wife and I talk some, but she is not a talker and where I despise alone time, she loves it! Don’t get me wrong! I deeply love her and honor her need for that alone time. But for me, it’s difficult. I do have a caretaker who comes in two hours a week. For the first hour she does chores. The second hour is relegated to conversation.

I may not be the only one who experiences loneliness. I suspect there are many more. There are many younger people I know. But they lead their busy lives, too busy to bother with a 75-year-old crone.

But… I will not simply sit here and cry in my iced tea. I try to stay busy. I’m active on my synagogue’s caring committee, making sure our volunteers send out cards for Shivas and health issues and such. I’m also doing training to lead Shivas on Zoom for those who desire it. I on occasion make the journey to my shul to deliver a Dvar Torah (a sermon). Mostly I attend now online. I’m presently writing a full Dvar for each week’s Torah Portion, posted in a different blog. I just wrote a Dvar for the Shabbat nearest Trans Day of Remembrance which I’m looking forward to delivering to my congregation on the 18th of November. I do my obligatory housework and spend time reading as well. Also, I am doing Daf Yomi, studying a page a day of Talmud. I’m presently in volume 18.

Loneliness is difficult, and it wears on you over time. But staying busy helps. May my remaining years be productive ones and may we all help to make our world a little bit better. I know this post was a bit of a downer, but they won’t always be that way. Truth involves both the ups and the downs.

One final thought. Imagine a world where we each, myself included, would reach out to somehow make another life a bit better. Radical no doubt, but it is how we begin to heal the world. Many blessings.

Jessica

Journey to Darkness

Journey to Darkness

Life brings us difficulty and hardship along the way, and we hope we learn and then move on…

Outside the ground is covered with snow. A big snowstorm is expected this weekend. Snow and ice are anathema for an old woman in a wheelchair. If I could get out to begin with.

I found myself staring at the blank tv screen. Most of my day is filled with silence. I love my wife dearly, but she is a true introvert, involved mostly with her projects, quite happy to be at home to pursue such endeavors. A few guests pop in from time to time. Help with a chore now impossible, on maybe 3 or 4 guests to visit and chat since early November. How I treasure those moments, fleeting though they may be.

So how did I reach this stage in my life? I’m a person who loves to be out and about, sharing time and stories with other people. My wife laughingly refers to me as the social butterfly. Learning, enjoying activities at shul or elsewhere makes me so happy. Even in a wheelchair, I could load it into the trunk and head out to wherever life beckoned. On November 1st, it all changed. I was loading the chair in the trunk. After several false starts with the doctor, an MRI was done and I had additional spinal damage that took away all the strength I had in my good leg.

Did I mention we live in an upstairs apartment, the stairs being steep and treacherous? Save for doctor visits, I am captive to these lonely oppressive walls. Coming back from the last doctor visit, as I negotiated the stairs, I became very dizzy. The world was spinning and I sat down and lay back but I felt myself losing consciousness and I reacted by leaning forward, initiating what could have been a long tumble down the stairs, but for the fact my right leg, the one now affected by my back issues, got caught on the stair and I proceeded to be a perfect imitation of a human pretzel, hanging on for dear life knowing that if I let go, well perish the thought. Robin managed to grab my coat, holding on for dear life as I reorganized all my body parts. Muscles overstretched, but they are healing nicely.

So I am wrestling with my place in time. How many YouTube videos can a person watch, or movies, or whatever? A new and very unfamiliar guest has arrived. I never was one to experience depression, something new to cope with. Unexpected tears for no particular reason. “Move,” people say. And how do I do that, the two of us confined in this space unable to go and look. I am starting to sort some stuff, things to toss and things to give away. Hopefully I can find volunteers when I’m ready to unload some of that. I’m doing Daf Yomi, a page a day of the Talmud which takes about 7 ½ years. I read when I can, but pain makes that difficult sometimes. Oh yeah, my pain levels increased in this latest incident. But I cope.

Sleep is my best friend. There my mind can wander, meet new people and see new things, and these walls disappear for a few hours. There is life, and then there is life worth living. As old age and loneliness takes its toll, I wonder where that life worth living can be found? If it can be found? Oh how I do not want to become that person sitting in the chair waiting for that final hour to provide blessed escape. In my heart there is so much life I wish to live. I’d doing the exercises, my part in trying to restore that place. Meanwhile a tear appears, wondering if it will happen at all. For some reason, a very dark poem I wrote many years ago during dark times comes to mind. I will share it here. I transcended it before. Perhaps I shall again.

AIMLESSLY

Like a fish on its side, body still, moved only by the motion about...
Bloated white-gilled swollen amidst the waves.
Currents driving towards, then washing away
But the fish cares not, senses dulled by time.
The flies swarm, waiting for their banquet to wash ashore,
The flesh willingly gives of itself, a feast
To vermin that wait for what they deserve least.
It matters not, no great concern. Serenity has found the fish.
The furious feeding on its entrails proceeds
For they feed on the rotting carcass of solace.

The struggle is over, for the fish has
Surrendered to the bottom feeders;
Its breathless form a delight to those
Who feverishly rip it apart for its peace.
A piece of peace, for the strongest and most ruthless,
Swarming fury, then emptiness.
They have found what the fish has already known.
Bones sink to the ocean floor, some wash ashore
And peace silently waits
To be discovered once more.

Jessica Wicks
copyright October, 1999

Age's Steep Ascent

I can’t put it aside any longer. I prepare to carry down the week’s garbage. Slowly I move bags filled and with an aroma best not described towards the door. I love old homes and my apartment is an old 19th century dwelling, filled with history, character, stories told and untold. What I do not love is their penchant for building steep stairs to enter and leave.

Situating myself in the doorway, holding firmly to the rail for these old legs tend to give way on occasion, I carefully drag the bags down those steps, through the breezeway, and out the side door. By then I’m already weary from pain and bones riddled with arthritis, spine with discs pushing against nerves and back bent with age, and still a few more steps off the porch. Carefully I sit down for a moment, resting and rising again, put the garbage in their proper cannister. It’s time to go back up. On the first step my leg gives and the rail supports me, a short prayer of gratitude, before continuing. If the steps were bad going down, the journey back even more so. One step at a time. Pain radiates up my leg, through the groin, into the small of the back. Then the next step. Same thing. Slowly I ascend.

I’ve a special name for those last three steps. Shit… Hell…F__k, and Damn. Still, as I rise, the light for the apartment beckons. Promise of rest and relaxation. My wheelchair sitting nearby. A short distance to a waiting recliner. I embrace each step. Shit… three more to go. Hell… Okay I know we Jews don’t believe in Hell aside from the hell we find on earth. Still this pain. F__k, and Damn I’m almost there. The light beckons me up and within. A sigh of relief for a journey once again.

So it occurred to me, my journey, discarding the garbage, struggling ever upward, is a metaphor for old age. One day there will be the final journey. Until then, I struggle. I prevail. Embracing both the pain and the light. Like so many before me and so many who will come after.

My Conversion to Judaism : Beit Din and Mikvah

So came the final day. I'd studies so hard over the past year, and deeply involved in synagogue life. At 71 my memory is not what it used to be, but repetition helps until it sticks. I've learned the Hebrew alphabet and some words, working with my chavruta partner. "The Way" that is the holidays of the year, memorizing various blessings, and most important, making may home a Jewish home in partnership with my wife who is not Jewish. It's been an amazing time, driven by a passion postponed for many years. See my last blog post entitled A Conversion Story that says why it was delayed for so long.

But finally the day arrived. We arrived at the Mikvah location where we met up with the three rabbis from Shir Tikvah. My high school buddy Steve who is a Rabbi flew up to participate as well. To say I was nervous was an understatement. Compounding it, the day itself was one of my "fuzzy" days. Something old people sometimes get when the mind is not firing on all cylinders. My wife sat in as did my witness and chavruta partner Kerry who was there to confirm to the rabbis (assuming I got past the Beit Din) that I indeed completely submerged in the Mikvah. In retrospect, I am not too happy about some of my answers, leaving out what I consider important details. But after questioning me on a range of topics related to Judaism and my own Jewish practice, they excused themselves for a short conference, then returned and welcomed me to the tribe, offering special blessings for the moment, then singing a resounding "Mazel Tov and Siman Tov:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hlcHA6bP8o

Then it is time to go to the Mikvah. First I enter the dressing room to prepare. My wife is there to assist. I remove carefully all clothing. I am to enter the Mikvah totally naked as the day I was born, for indeed I am in a sense reborn as a Jew. I shower and make sure I am completely clean. No cosmetics, clean finger nails and toenails. Each step involves a meditation. There is a word called kavanah, or intention. There are seven kavanot for preparation:

Mayyim Hayyim’s Seven Kavanot for Mikveh Preparation

The Holy One created the world in six days, but made it complete with Shabbat, the seventh day. The number seven suggests wholeness and represents the creative process. Seven steps lead into the mikveh.

These seven kavanot - preparatory meditations - are offered in the hope that your immersion will provide you a sense of shleimut or wholeness and peace.

1. Hineni. Here I am.

Take a minute and think about the transition mikveh will help you mark today.

Immersion in the mikveh represents a spiritual transformation from one state to another. In traditional language, your change is from ritually unready (tameh) to ritually ready (tahor). Prepare yourself by writing in a journal, or saying a personal prayer, or reading something of meaning to you. Breathe deeply. Sigh audibly.

2. Hiddur Mitzvah. The unadorned body is beautiful in itself.

Remove all jewelry as well as makeup, paying special attention to the eyes. Remove nail polish on fingers and toes. (Acrylics may stay on if they have been on for more than a month.)

There is no need for adornment or artifice in the mikveh. There should be no physical barriers between the body and the living waters.

3. Nekavim nekavim. You fashioned the human being intricate in design.

Empty your bladder.

Our tradition celebrates and blesses the body in every possible moment and mode.

4. B’tzelem Elohim. I am made in the image of God.

Remove all clothing, eyeglasses, contact lenses, dental plates, hearing aids.

Each person enters the mikveh as naked as the day of his birth, as the day of her birth. Without rank or status. Simply a human being. Gloriously a human being.

5. Elohai neshama shenatata bi tehorah hi. The soul in me is pure.

Shower or bathe with thoughtful attention to the miracle of your own body. Pay attention to every part of yourself. Wash yourself, head to toe; shampoo your hair, lather your shoulders, back, arms, belly, and genitals. Scrub elbows, knees and heels, removing calluses and dead skin. Wash between fingers and toes.

Relax and enjoy. The water of the mikveh will feel even sweeter after this.

6. Kol haneshama t’halel yah. The breath of every living thing praises You.

Clean your ears, blow your nose, brush and floss your teeth, rinse your mouth.

Stand before the mirror. Consider all of your senses. Look into your own eyes and smile. Think about the words that come from your mouth.

7. Tikkun Olam. We can stand for justice; we can build a world of peace and justice.

Clean under your nails - toenails, too. (Nails do not need to be cut.)

Consider the power of your hands and feet to create wholeness in your life, in our world.

When you enter the mikveh do not rush. Walk slowly. Count the seven steps into
the water, stopping on each one. Relax into the embrace of the water, into
whatever the next moment may hold for you.

In the mikveh, every body is a sacred vessel.

So I begin entering the Mikveh. With each step, a flood of memories wash over me. Of the completion of a decades held dream. The oft used phrase is joining the tribe. It really was a simcha, an celebration, but also an obligation to be held dearly. I remember each step into the warm waters, all the while awash in feelings of joy, love, and fulfilled desire. Down I went and submerged the first time. I remained under a few seconds, then recited:

Baruch atah Adonay Eloheinu melekh ha-olam, asher kidshanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu al ha-t'vilah.

Blessed are you, Eternal God, ruler of the universe, who sanctifies us through mitzvot and has enjoined us concerning immersion.

Then I submerge a second time for a few moments:

Sh'ma Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai echad.

HEAR O ISRAEL, THE ETERNAL OUR GOD, THE ETERNAL IS ONE!

Then I submerge the third time:

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheynu melekh ha-olam, shehekheyanu, v'kiy'manu, v'higianu, la-z'man ha-zeh.

Blessed is the Eternal, the God of all creation, who has blessed me with life, sustained me, and enabled me to reach this moment.

In this moment, I am fully Jewish. Kerry awaits with a towel and somewhat dizzy from the flush of emotion, I return to the dressing room. We visit a few minutes outside, then Steve, Kerry, my wife and I head for Cecil's deli for a celebration. It was an amazing day which I will never forget. I still glance at my certificate of conversion and a wide smile appears. A new journey lies ahead.