Sarit Majhor's Journal

We were...

We were like porcupines, like deer
and like snakes,
And we said that her voice, dimmed by moans,
Is the Fall, moist with tears.

We said
That her face was cut out of paper,
cut out pages of an old book.
And
the porcupines, the deer
and the snakes,she
called by their names.

Soft roses, wonderful roses
joy of our life.
We were all that, we
said
all that.
And she knew,
and she knew.

WHEN HE CAME OUT OF THE
THICHET, TWO TREES CAME WITH HIM.
HE LIMPLY WALKED BETWEEN
THEM,
HIS FACE DIDN'T TOUCH,
THEIR STEPS SMALL BY HIS SIDE,
THEIR STEPS COVERED HIM.

HE'S SHEDDING HIS LEAVES,
LIKE HE'S A TREE IN AUTUMN,
FELLING HIS LEAVES ON THEM.

THE MAN WHO SAT IN THE ABYSS,
AND THE DEPTHS CALLED TO HIM
HAS RISEN AND RISEN.
HIS EYES WERE SO SHUT,
SO SHUT, THAT
HIS LIDS COVERED HIS FEET.

HE BENT DOWN TO THEM,
AND THEY WERE WET AS A RIVER,
WET A RIVER,
AND THEY WASHED AWAY FROM HIM.

I am still surprised by that will
which is independent of mine.
It leaps up like a two-headed beast,
eating away at me,
with one head that thinks of me,
and one head that thinks of you.

And I'm in ambush for this creature
that demands existance beyond my circle.

I hold inside me remembered visions
of before I came
among the sands.
I didn't play here as a child.

Sudden images and broken sounds
I never knew before
are hidden everywhere I go,
and they make my feet stumble and fall.

Because when I first touched you
my body wasn't yet dry from the colors
of the ground.
I was raw.
It was as if I touched
Nature.

Ha, here comes a brand new year and lots of new resolutions with it...mine are not the losing weight and stopping smoking kind. Thank God, I am skinny despite eating eating chocolate cake, and smoking is just an unimaginable part of my early past.
I have other montains to climb this year and I am all excited about them. I have professional goals and am determined to to take my art to the next level.Get a gallery to show and sell my work.Find space to paint...have so many images in my head, so much creative energy needing somewhere
to go! Get into an Off Off Broadway show for starters, and get agents to come, also get an indy film.Then there is the personal stuff - I am determined to open myself up to having
a healthy, beautiful love relationship.I want to have my life settled enough, so I can have a new puppy, the Pomeranian I've been dreaming about.To spend lots of time with Tillirose and not miss out of the tiny monkey's magical and crazy-fast development. I would love to also spend lots time with my baby G, if that is at all possible. Yoga, Ballet, regular workouts and taking my vitamins. Other than that, to be couragous enough to always be authentic and real,to tell the truth even if hurts and keep in touch daily with Janine.and see her regularly. Thought I'll publish this photo from the summer of 2009 at Fire Island...it's absolutely freezing outside and a little sunshine won't hurt

It's time again
to get back to the journal. it's been waiting for me patiently, and I owe it the curtesy (for you do owe curtesy even to inanimate objects, you know), to finally pay attention and write. After all, I have been promising for ages now, and it's unlike me to not keep promises.I want to post my latest photos for starters.

Let's go slowly though, been away from it for a while, so I will ease into it, in stages. First,we'll deal with the thing that was most missing in my life:

BALANCE

"Life is part positive and part negative. Suppose you went to hear a symphony orchestra and all they played were the little, happy, high notes? Would you leave soon? Let me hear the rumble of the bass, the crash of the cymbals, and the minor keys." -- Jim Rohn

"I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness for it shows me the stars." -- Og Mandino

"If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome." -- Anne Bradstreet

"You have to decide what your highest priorities are and have the courage -- pleasantly, smilingly, non-apologetically -- to say 'no' to other things. And the way you do that is by having a bigger 'yes' burning inside. The enemy of the 'best' is often the 'good.'" -- Stephen Covey
Posted by Sarit at 3:30 PM 0 comments



it's
About Me
Sarit

Labels: BALANCE

Erella's B92More<br> we'l(benign tumour) ---no more: That hurts!
Erella is my friend. She stands out because of many reasons...I always thought her extremely beautiful, with her curly dark hair and wonderful features, her size, which just seemed to add to her beuty, her artisic soul, that endless , amazing creative woman who bore a redheaded child with flaming curls, and made litle books about her baby, so yummy you wanted to eat sqoosh her. I still have the very first book you published my darling erella, a tiny book with penciland crayon drawings, and photocopies of Celeste in it. I also have a whole series of photos I took of you holding Celeste, looking like the Madonna, only more beautiful.I think you are an original, a true Bohemian, with a kettle always on the stove ready for tea. Wish t spend more time with you love , I am the same Sarit, forever climbing the next mountain flying higher so it hurts folr lack of oxygen. But that's me and I love you and one day soon I will paint you.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

-Mary Oliver

I've been thinking about the passing of time since Johnny's death, and how little I've accomplished creatively (at least to my standards). There's this life, and this talent and these brains that I was graced with, and I've been pilfering a lot of it away, unable to shake off the creative block that suffocating my output. I hereby make a pledge to myself, and I choose to make it publicly:NO MORE! I've just returned from a two week working cruise of the Balkans, visiting places I've never seen before but that have meant an awful lot to me. I saw so much exquisite art, both visual and performance,and I'm inspire to work. In Tallin, Estonia, I wandered into the local Children's library, and saw illustrative and fine art that reminded me of my own work, The cobble stoned streets, the way the houses met with their roof tops, like in a Botero painting, made my heart sing. In St. Petersburg, I visited the Winter Palace, where Anastasia, my favorite acting role,kept making references, to convincethe Grand Duchess, her Grandmother, about her identity. I saw a lot of the pictures that Catherine the Great began to collect at the Hermitage and they blew me away.

My mom is in town, visiting us for next three weeks and helping me move out of my gorgeous apartment on 46th st. I am so unsure if I'm doing the right thing. The rent is high, but still, for this apartment, it's very reasonable. and I made the place look so
beautiful,with all the art, lamps, wonderfully placed spotlights, plants and fabrics. I'll be very sad to move.Somehow, the past year has been filled with loss of every kind and I am being very brave, dealing with it all.

"Let a person rejoice when he is confronted with obstacles, for it means that he has reached the end of some particular line of indifference or folly, and is now called upon to summon up all his energy and intelligence in order to extricate himself, and to find a better way; that the powers within him are crying out for greater freedom, for enlarged exercise and scope." -- James Allen

"It is the Law that any difficulties that can come to you at any time, no matter what they are, must be exactly what you need most at the moment, to enable you to take the next step forward by overcoming them. The only real misfortune, the only real tragedy, comes when we suffer without learning the lesson." -- Emmet Fox

"Life consists not in holding good cards, but in playing those you hold well." --Josh Billings

And here I am, holding enchanted cards, with a few tragically awfull ones mixed in, and I'm floating in and out of winning the game. There are times when I feel I'll never recover from the past year, the pain is so searing, the memories so horrific. The thought of Johnny writhing in agony, seeing the metalic halo crunched around his bold headin the brain radiation surgery room, his brave attempts to make fun of the cancer and then I burst into tears, stealthily, in the empty bathroom where no one can see or hear. It seems tears don't go down well, with most of the my love's family ( with a few exception),They squirm in discomfort when I cry, and at times even berate me. I hear statements like "John wouldn't want it like that, he would want you to make jokes and celebrate his life." What utter nonsense!!!!!!! I know this man better than anyone in the world (and I state that with the fullest confidence), knowing also the facade he presented to EVERYONE else, making blanket statements which he maybe wanted to mean but his beautiful, poetic and sensitive soul never went along with.I see him deteriorating in front of me and I am helpless...all I can do is kiss and hug him a lot and stay with him 24 hrs a days, mostly next to him in bed. We also meditate for about 2 hrs each day, light candles and despite the long distance healers that Bob Wood arranged(his first radio guru and PD, who brought him to Toronto long before I was in the picture), told him to be alone while the healing sessions were taking place, these past few weeks, he wanted me next to him, in bed, as we were meditating.In fact he made me promise that no matter what, I shan't let him be hospitalized, and will be staying by his side till the end. His pain is becoming unbearable abd Dr. B asked me to give him Morphine every hour, plus the long acting MS Contin, which is Morphine too but is given only every 12 hours. Of course all the drugs make him dopey, yet he's restless and he wants to jumps off the bed. I think, I will have to call in the Hospice workers, to help him be more more comfy.
There's this strange phenomenon, despite the disease and barely eating, his breath smells like a new born baby's, sweet and pure and all I want to do is kiss him. He hates me going to the bathroom, and when I need to pee, he shouts for Mikey (my beloved niece, Samantha's boyfriend, both of whom sat vigil at his bedside) and I have to explain that Mikey cant pee for me. Then I rush, practically pee myself in my hurry, change in bed and we both sigh in relief.
He's completely concious,and had told me the other day "Baby, I think it's time, please be strong, I love you more than anything in the world". I asked if he was certain and he said yes, he was. With a sinking heart I said, well, then it's time to call the people you want around. He asked me to remind him and I said the family of course and Andrea Fraser who became a very close friend. In fact she was the first person I called and I still can't understand the weirdness that developed between her and me.
The hospice people arrived, with wonderful dedicated nurses, Chaplain Bob, a magical musician, christian Nielsen, who played guitar and every wind instrument imaginable.
In that beautiful, large room we created in Johnny's mom's basement, with the large bed in the center we were sorrounded by peple playing and singing Beatles music, and hauntingly beatiful American Indian melodies. It was pure magic. Chaplain Bob spoke to Johnny, who told him that he loved me his whole life, from before he was born and after he will die, that I was the greatest love of his life, his beautiful angel. I cried and was surprisingly rageful, an emotion I didn't expect...how could he do this to himself, what a waste, how could he do it to me. He asked the Chaplain to perform a marriage ceremony to remarry us, and on Thursday Sam and I went to get the Marriage Licence. Then Johnny started drifting in and out of conciousness, fell out of bed several times, and the whole time my beloved family, Samantha, Mike and Stephie never left.I love them all so very much that words will never suffice to describe the feeling.I'm also filled with gratitude to them and other members of the family, to Dr.B and his crew, the hospice people who convinced me I wasn't going out of my my mind with my horrible intense mood factuations. After the funeral I found a lot solace in another wonderful woman,Sandra,Sam's and Steph's mom, whom I also grew to love very dearly.
On January 23 Johnny died at 7 am and I wonder if I'll ever recover.

What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.

-Albert Pike

Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward.

-Vernon Law

A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave.

-Mohandas Gandhi

There are two ways to look at life. One is as though nothing is a miracle; the other is as though everything is.

-Albert Einstein

Do you have holes in your life?
 
A story is told about an elderly Chinese woman who owned two large pots. Each hung on the ends of a pole, which she carried every day on her shoulders to fill with water from the stream located at the end of the village. One of the pots was complete and always delivered a full portion of water; the other pot was cracked and arrived home each day only half full.
 
Of course, the complete pot was proud of its accomplishments. It felt really good about itself. The poor cracked pot, on the other hand, was ashamed of its own imperfections; it was miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.
After six years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, the humbled broken pot finally opened its heart to the woman at the stream.  "I hate myself,” the cracked pot cried, “I am so useless and valueless. What purpose does my existence have when each day I leak out half of my water? I am such a loser!”
The old woman smiled and said,”Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side? I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path.  Every day while we walk back from the stream, you have the opportunity to water them.
"For six years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate our home.  Without you being just the way you are, we would have never created this beauty together."

The following is from Johnny to me...he writes so, he breaks my heart. Life sucks sometimes.

She's said many things.
I love you
I hate you
I feel sorry for you
I can't stand you
I can't be with you
I can't be without you
I want to melt into you
I want to make love to you always.
And I, to her.
All of those and more.

We've talked and not talked.
We've ridden the waves of passion
As the most experienced surfer and as beginner, too.
And been dashed on the shore as often as
Carried in, like a feather on the sea breeze.
And when does it all end with the sweep of a hand
That wipes it all away
And thenReaches out with
The future where we spend it,
sweetly,
As one?When?

She's done many things.
With me and without.
Far away and Close by.
Living, not living, from day to day
Year to year.
Alone,
in uncertainty and fear.
Together in spirit only, since the
Necessities of growth took her far away.
Listening to the lives each other leads.
Hurting to be so close.
Too broke, too attached, too afraid to
Do more than pine
.And I have done these things, too.
And more.
And when does it all end with the sweep of a hand
That wipes it all away
And thenReaches out with
The future where we spend it,
sweetly,As one?
When?

We said many things.
We'll stay together.
We shouldn't stay together.
We don't act too well when we're together.
We're a perfect fit.
I'll move here.
I'll move there.
You're so soft.
You're so beautiful.
We've grown.
We're growing
Closer.
When is now.

"Whatever an enemy might do to an enemy,or a foe to a foe,the ill-directed mind can do to you -even worse.
Whatever a mother, father or other kinsman might do for you,the well-directed mind can do for you even better."-Dhammapada, 3, translated by Thanissaro Bhikkhu

This is a mea calpa of sorts - not that I suddenly condone the war in Iraq or the mechanics behind the Bush government, but I'd be a rigid, heartless fool, if I weren't to speak of how deeply moved I've been by the images of the Iraqi people braving mortal danger and going out en masse to vote at the polls. For that accomplishment alone I'll be hencefothforth more tolerant of Mr. Bush's smarminess.There's something about the human spirit at it's best, which is magnificent beyond measure and this innate desire for self -expression, that superceeds primal fear, making heroic figures out ordinary human beings, is one of the things I admire most.And if for that alone, there is some meaning to the war and I can allow for a measure or forgiveness for some of the things I find repulsive about the Bush cabinet. So there...

It's hard to believe, but seven months have passed since my last post. It seems like time has been condensed into a "Twilight Zone" episode, with me as a major character, flailing about inside some surreal existence, which happened to go by as fast as a wink. Notice I said wink , not blink...tongue in cheek and the joy I get from my beatiful little students had been a life saver over these past months. I hate feeling sorry for myself and the whole idea of wallowing is kind of ignoble to me. I know, I know, such incredibly high expectations of myself, always, hardly ever allowing myself to crumple like a human. So when my puppylove, Freddy The Wonder Dog, got falsely diagnosed with Cushing's Disease and treated with chemotherapy which left him weak and depleted, I had to be mindful to stay positive and sane. His immune system was so impaired that he developed an ear infection, which left him deaf. One of the purest, most amazing creatures on the face of the earth, Freddy was just accepted as a Therapy Dog in the Good Dog Society, and unlike every other dog who must to go thru 8 weeks of training, graduated in 4 weeks, with an angelic, gentle smile on his puppy face.And then it turned out he didn't have any disease after all, it was a misdiagnosis, a mistake. But it was too late to reverse the damage. Mount Sinai Hospital, where we volunteered to do pet therapy with sick children, had to be abandoned because Freddy bcame too wretched to play. And I...It's so incredibly sad when a child or an animal suffer and one is impotent to help. In fact, indirectly, I felt responsible for taking him to this doctor and not trusting my initial instinct (I kept procrastinating with initianing the treatment, it felt scary and wrong).The guilt and pain are so indescribable - an innocent being, whose only function in this world had been to bring happiness to all who met him, who was and is the sweetest, most beautiful, cutest puppy ever, so didn't deserve this.

Summertime and the living is...Easy? Nah, easy, it is not! It's totally not my nature to whine and complain. In fact, most people who know me would characterize me as one of the most optimistic and positive people they know, but even I'm getting to the point of total saturation by the emotional pollution, which is the direct result of the current political regime.
Yesterday afternoon I attended the opening screening of Michael Moore's film, Fahrenheit 9/11 and spent the duration fidgeting in my seat, feeling angry and sad, at times unbearably so, as I sobbed with rage. I've often said that Bush is not the sharpest pencil in the box, and I always found it unthinkable that the President of the most powerful country in the world is an idiot. But seeing his pathetic, jarringly discordant and imbecile reactions to the news of the tower's collapse, made me recoil in horror and disgust. Not everyone can be a genius, and as an educator, I know that some people find it hard to think for themselves... but the person we elected as the leader of our country? Shame on us! Shame on us for being so self-involved in our own little worlds, that even our outrage is nonchalant and ineffectual. We all stood by, as more and more news came to light validating our initial sense that we've indeed elected an incompetent puppet to head our nation. After all, right from the start there was occasion to see the true fabric of the man and it was embarrassing and scary. Little Georgie hiding in a secret little place, was not much comfort to the country during the chaos of 9/11, that's for sure. When the key players started to emerge as the puppet masters and mouth pieces behind Dubya , it was frightfully evident that our government will not be giving any of us a sense of safety and security. And so we read the papers, watched TV and some of us even marched for peace, but the 'fleecing of the American public' still continues to manifest itself daily with tragic results. Nowhere is it more painfully evident than thru the desperate and devastated men and women of the armed forces, who find themselves fighting for a phantom cause and who are now realizing the morass into which they've been led. Nobody profits from war, except the people who are financially invested in it. How telling, that none of those people are actively putting themselves, or their family members in harm's way...How shameful that all the powerful talking heads, who are the deus ex machinae of the the war, are tucked away safely in their comfortable beds, and the people who who give their life and limb, are anonymous, poor, and with no say in the matter.
Meanwhile, I keep my fingers crossed that the nation wakes up and votes to take back the reins. One can only dream...

Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.

- Mahatma Gandhi

False ideals cannot be shattered by criticism. Right ideals must take up the battle against them.

- Franz Werfel, "Between Heaven and Earth"

What you don't see with your eyes, don't witness with your mouth.

- Jewish proverb
and another one I like:
Gossip kills three: the speaker, the spoken of, and the listener.

- Samuel b. Nahman, Numbers

I get really annoyed when I hear people go on and on about a third person (often a famous public figure or celebrity), whom they've never met in person, yet have "absolutely true" information about. I wonder what makes some people believe the worst of others and why it seems to be such a thrilling bit of business to be able discuss those wrong-doings. Michael Jackson, George W Bush or Britney Spears, the latest scandal in the news, and so it goes on and on - the name changes but the sentiment of totally involved, self righteous passion does not. On some of these people the jury is still out. Some others, like our president, get accredited with having an 'evil mastermind', when in my opinion,and according to all the reliable data, printed and visual, is just a inferior-minded puppet. I don't know why it bothers me so much...maybe it's the innate injustice of convicting someone without just trial (because being convinced of the 'truth' of your rant means you've already convicted the person). And so, what if you're basing your information on some malcontent's complaint and lots of questionable 'facts'?
Well, how would we feel being the subject of unfounded gossip? I know, I for one wouldn't like it.

Happy New Year!!!
November,winter 2003
Wear a smile and have friends; wear a scowl and have wrinkles. - George Eliot

A friend of mine, who regularly checks in with my journal, has commented on the curious absence of any mention of MEN in it's pages. He asked if there was a specific reason I avoided the subject and I found myself humming and ho-ing and generally trying to duck, which in itself was enough to get me to take a serious look at myself and THAT part of my life. I know that takes more self revelation than I cared to share up until now, but once the challenge was put to me, true to form as ever, I couldn't sit back any longer. As you must see, there's a story waiting to be told here...one I might as well start.

Well, after Johnny and I separated (post divorce)and I came to New York, I went on a whirlwind of dates with an enormous number of adoring men, ranging in age from 27 to 49, in looks from geeky to drop dead gorgeous. intellectuals and cultural connoisseurs with a few dufoses sprinkled in for good measure.I must add that my heart and chastity remain uncompromised, save for one man who shall remain nameless. Now, this is just the bare bones overview of my social life these past few months, and I promise to continue. I had foot surgery yesterday and my toe is throbbing and it and it's owner needs to be put to bed. Besides, I'm on antibiotics for my injured toe and on Tylenol 3 for the pain and the drugs are making me nauseous and dizzy. This is working out perfectly, it's the holidays and I don't have to teach so I can just put my foot up and read thru the 5 books I got at the library. Even the weather is cooperating and it's properly cold and grey and not enticing to leave the house. I'll continue very soon



Sept 7 2003
In my own experience, the period of greatest gain in knowledge and experience is the most difficult period in one's life. ...Through a difficult period, you can learn, you can develop inner strength, determination, and courage to face the problem. Who gives you this chance? Your enemy. -His Holiness the Dalai Lama

When I was young I was badly hurt in a Palestinean terrorists attack in Israel. My American cousin,who was a student at the University of Jerusalem, took me, her favorite baby cousin, to visit with her in the city. I remember skipping and hopping in my new sandals, happily licking an icecream cone as I stared at the many interesting people in the crowd. We walked down Yaffo street, ,and there, right across the street from the famous Shaarei Tzedek hospital, a bomb suddenly exploded.I was thrown to the ground, unable to hear past the crashing boom, my vision clouded by smoke. I then felt my face and body and everything was there - I kept saying "thank you God" again and again, inside my head. An old man on the ground next to me was wailing:"For this I escaped from the concentration camp?!" The words broke my heart because I knew all about the holocaust - my mom told me about it just shortly before - she told me of the most horrible atrocity one could ever imagine: Her mom and dad, my grandparents,and their five little children, the smallest of which was 3 months old, were shot dead and thrown into the Danube and my mom was left alone in the world and she was only eight. I was bleeding from my head and the center of my body, but I was alive!Somehow, I felt strong and brave and crawled over to the old man to comfort him.
Thus began the most difficult struggle with pain, surgeries, and I wasn't the perfectly beautiful girl anymore. I was the beautiful girl who had scars on her body and who learnt about compassion while going thru her own rehab, seeing human suffering and empathising from a place of common ground. I often think I could have grown up to be a 'Heather', the prettiest girl in school, who could've been shallow and conceited, but thru the pain I gained a depth of appreciation for life, an intellectual seriousness and loads of compassion. And the terrorist who caused it all is an inseparable part in the fabric the makes the whole person I'd become. Like the Dalai Lama said, my enemy gave me this chance and as hokey as it may sound, I knew that my enemy is my friend.



April 11, 2003
This entry is totally dedicated to Doug Robinson, who's the greatest website designer in the world, and a true and amazing friend, for spending hours with me on the phone to help me transfer my journal to a new software, all this while he himself was going thru some heavy concerns of his own.He selflessly put his problems on the back burner until he brought me home safely (so to speak) and sensed I was confidently clear on everything. Thank You Doug for designing and executing my website and for constantly coming to my rescue!!! Anyone who likes my website (and who doesn't?), should contact Doug at sales@doug-robinson.com if they want a world class website of their own.

OK, I'm itching to talk about so many things, but will start slowly...This past month has been daunting, exciting, sad and incredibly joy filled, manically flactuating from high highs to enervating lows. War with Iraq, the moral dillema about the right to attack a people without provocation in order to intervene and stop a demented villain...I have so many questions and few answers. I think I'll stop right here and instead deal with less momentous things, like,say, my life!?This morning soon as I woke and brushed my teeth, I had to run and teach the cutest two little boys on the upper west side. It was raining so I took a cab and got there early, which left me enough time to buy some latte at the most beautiful old fashioned cafe next to their house. It was a great class, after which I went to Lee's art store and bought an easel, in place of the big serious one I have in storage in Charleston, at Johnny's apartment. This is exciting, now I can be really and fully expressive and can start painting again, something I haven't done since I returned to New York in February. I have shelves full of paints and brushes and empty canvas, both stretched and rolled,anxiously waiting to be used. I'm now going to assemble the easel (which I dragged home on the bus and up 5 flights of stairs with no elevator)and then, off to the races!



March 3, 2003
What an incredible date, especialy since three is my favorite number!There's only one hour left of this day and I must make sure I don't let it pass me by without note. So what did I do today that was extraordinary enough to stand out on such a special day? My initial thought was, nothing! But it's not true;This morning I went to a Tai Chi class- a beautifully graceful new experience which appealed to my Classical Ballet sensibilities and made me feel like a fish in water. Then my adorable 7 year old student wrote an ambitious and very creative poem called 'Why do I?'.Today she also finished writing her'book, a funny and well told story about the need to treat others the way you want to be treated. Her sister started writing poetry and had begun using her considerable artistic talents(she paints like a dream)to paint pictures with words.Boththese brilliant little girls are becoming more and more awesome every time I see them and it makes me feel so proud! In fact all my kids, one by one, are beginning to form a deep connection with me and I with them. It really didn't take long - I've been back in the city just one month and now all of them are beginning to make real magic happen. I'm getting to know the finer points of their personalities,thus, able to reach them better.Today I was also honored by a great pianist, Mordecai Shehori, who played his gorgeous interpretation of Liszt and made me cry with awe...Yes, and I'm dealing with my relationships authentically and spontaneously and my life has found a momentum I'd never experienced before. So after all,3.3.03 was more special than I deemed on first blush. I love my life so much!



February 14 Valentine's Day 2003
Yesterday,as I stood in the checkout line of Barnes and Nobles, my mind, quite unexpectedly,played-back a movie of something that happened when I was four.That morning my mom and I set out to purchase a Nancy Drew mystery I had been longing for. Mommie had a rare day off to be with me,and I was too excited to eat any breakfast before we left the house on this cold, winter day.There we were,skinny little me walking blithely next to my beautiful, elegant mom,one hand in hers, the other clutching the money for the book. Then as we crossed the street, just beside the bookstore,we passed a street vendor selling freshly roasted chestnuts from a round, portable stove. Their delicious fragrance hit my nostrils and made my empty stomach grumble. My mouth was watering,. Suddenly I was so hungry I could barely stand it.I asked Mommie to buy me a bag but she said I had to make a choice;the chestnuts or the book, either but not both. I struggled with a painful conflict; on the one hand- the warm chestnuts, so tempting and yummy, on the other hand- the book, oh yes, the adventures, the hours and hours of fun and excitement!... I chose the book... My mom smiled and said 'You're the smartest little girl in the world' and then bought me the chestnuts too.

It's hard to know what triggered the memory at that exact moment. Regardless, the Barnes and Nobles on the Upper West Side is hereby credited with casting a magic spell...there and then I fell in love all over again - with myself! I stood there grinning foolishly at nobody in particular,so grateful for this perfect gift on Valentine, my first one spent alone.



February 2 2003
I'm back in New York!!! Returning to my favorite city after all this time is the ultimate personal growth Lithmus test, and I believe I'm passing with flying colors. . I feel so blessed! So full of wonder and love and gratitude!!! My time in Charleston was the perfect primer for the return to NY, where we're reluctant to smile at strangers and overide our instincts with guarded suspicion.Well, I'm smiling away and it's coming back in spades. It's like the street and the subway lights up when people recognize the best of themselves and salute it with a smile. There's so much magic all around, so much beauty...even in the worst situation, through the most painful events, there's marvel and majesty.

Life occurs to me same as before(the latest terrorist attacks in Israel hit very close to home as did yesterday's tragic news of the space shuttle Columbia)but I seem to move away from the shock and sadness much faster, almost as soon as I acknowledge those feelings. And then they give way to a clarity and an incredibly strong desire to reach out and teach that very thing - a true knowledge of a universal God, the certainty that love soothes away fear, and when there's no fear, there's no hate, nor jealousy, nor the drive to destroy or blame anyone.It seems to me that darkness shrivells up when it's exposed to ++forlight and this simple law of physics works metaphysically as well

The most profound thing I've received lately is the realization that I'm in constant dialogue with what I call the God within.That whenever I function optimally, my brain, intellect and psyche work in tandem to make the choices which I then express in action. This is the totality of me as a spiritual being.I find that not heeding the voice always exacts a price,(and a heavy one at that)Those times, when there's an imbalance in the mind-body-spirit co-op, are the only times I lapse.

It's so much easier to keep in step with my inner integrity and true authentic self. That's really the most liberating and empowering state, when creativity flows and everything is forward moving and happy and completely real...Anyway, it's peaceful and scrumptious and I dig it a lot... Good Night!



January 13, 2003
In a bit over two weeks I'll be waking up in my very own bed in NYC. On Sunday,Hilit, that beloved angel girl, brought back from LA more of my lusciously yummy sheets and pillowcases, all made of cloudy-soft and decidedly 'princessworthy' Egyptian cotton (with the highest known thread count). Hey, it does make a difference, I don't care what anyone says but try sleeping one night wrapped in the softness of these things (with mounds of down pillows and comforters beneath ) and I guarantee, nothing lesser will be acceptable from there on. I think these are all indulgences that feed the body and mind and pay back dividends in spades. When I sleep or even just hang out to read, sourrounded by such luxury, I feel comforted and safe and ready to tackle anything. Hilit also brought back my best rug and some paintings so I'll be able to make my environment beautiful and the thought makes me smile.

And I've been creating lots of beauty lately...why, only today I finished another painting. I think it came out lovely, I'll be showing it to Carol Seltzer tomorrow and am getting all excited. I love this phase of the creative proccess, when my part of the creation is done, and now the person who buys it gets to interact with it. I love seeing their face the first time they see it. People usually smile in delight and are anxious to take the picture home with them.

Boy, I'm so lucky to be able to do things that put a smile on people's faces! ooops, almost dropped my laptop...Freddy got tangled in the cord while he tried to jump over a huge stack of books on the floor. I've been reading voraciously, practically inhaling books like"The passions of Ayn Rand' (a biography by Helen Branden who was a close friend for almost two decades and also the wife of Nathaniel Branden who I believe was Ayn's lover)The book is really thick and large and filled with the smallest print and though I'm gulping it in a hurry I still haven't gotten to the part where the writer explains the above mentioned affair between her husband and Ayn (who was 25 years older than both Nathaniel and Helen). Yesterday I finished a book called 'Beautiful Bodies',by Laura Shaine Cunnungham, a fun, easy read,impossible to put down.I'm also reading "An Unfinished Woman'- a memoir by Lilian Helman, suplementing this menu with a silly little novel called "Dating w/o novacaine"and some school text on the latest in Critical Thinking in English Lit. I love that stuff, it always makes me feel so excited. Well, it's definitely time to go to sleep. It's easy because I'm cosily ensconced in bed with my laptop, washed and moisturized and wearing a white men's shirt I've inherited from Johny. All I have to do is turn the light out and it's exactly what I'm about to do.

Good Night!



HAPPY NEW YEAR!
JANUARY 1, 2003
Ring out the old, ring in the new,

Ring, happy bells, across the snow:

The year is going, let him go;

Ring out the false, ring in the true.


- Lord Tennyson



Something happened. It is still going on.
It binds me.

It was true at night and it's true in the day, even more so now.

Who was who?

I was in him and he was around me.

Who in the world can claim that he was ever together with another being?

I am TOGETHER-

No mortal child was begot but an immortal, common image.

I learnt astonishment that night.

he came to take me home and I found home.

It happened once...

Only once, and therefore forever.

The picture that we have created will be with me when I die.

I will have lived within it.

First the amazement about the two of us.

Amazement about man and woman has made a human being of me.

-I-
know
now
what
no
Angel
knows.



December 22,2002
Sunday morning, 6 am and I'm wide awake, my thoughts running wild, taking me on a "truth or dare" journey, in which I present myself with the scariest imaginable situation and see if I dare try it on for size.

Right before waking from the tail end of a dream, I saw a plain, middle aged woman, someone I'd never seen before.She looked downtrodden,her clothes, skin and hair grey, colorless... At this point I was fully awake but still held the image,not ready yet to let go of the dream.So I kept my eyes closed and looked at the expression on the woman's face, trying to assess what she taought, what she felt. I couldn't see the spirit behind her opaque eyes and blank expression but kept observing her as she went on about her life of quiet apathy, her hopes confined to pedestrian expectations, like finding a sale on canned soup at the market.There was no fire in her eyes, nothing she cared about deeply.

Assexual, passionless, life had passed her by, leaving her with only memories of what used to be and speculations of what could've been.

...Is this me in twenty years? My heart was beating wildly, I sat up in bed with a jolt and then just giggled and tried to go back to the image.

Now she looked like me, only much older. She was standing by an easel, one paint brush in her hand and one in her mouth, the corners of her eyes crinckled up mischievously. Her beautiful white teeth bit her lower lip, half smiling as she dabbed paint on the canvas. Her body was strong and trim, her movement graceful, like a dancer's. She seemed full of passion for life, excited about the way the colors blended and the beauty she was creating.

Phewww...this was sooo much better!

This is where I got up and made a skinny-latte, took my laptop with me back to bed and wrote this last bit.

I know exactly why I'm having these thoughts:Despite feeling genuinely excited about embarking on a new life, there's a teeny bit of apprehension there as well. I'm afraid because so much of my identity was determined by how irresistable and talented I was, and that being "falling-in-lovable" was always the one thing I could count on... What'll I use as safety net if or when those things won't be there?...Yet, I also know that energy spent on keeping those things alive is just an awesome distraction from my life's mission.

I always had all this talent, but I've been acting and painting haphazardly, with bursts of enthusiastic output which were brought to a screeching halt once I was picked for the part or praised for my work.

Could it be it was all for the accolades and the sense of power I got from being admired?...I think so...nishtu gedacht.

Well, no more! I'm all grown up now and powerful regardless of approval. It's evident the change in me has begun because I stopped creating narcissistic mirrors for my ego. Which means that I'm not distracting myself anymore, hence there's some mighty energy that's free now, my wings set to soar...So what's next?

Hey, the sky's the limit!



December 5 2002
It's finally winter here in Charleston. Outside, it's grey and it's wet and the temperature is a respectably cool 39 degrees in the middle of the day. Of course, with the wind and rain, it feels like February in Cleveland, cold enough to light a fire in the house or bundle up in a coat and scarf outside.I was painting in my studio,feeling snuggly and warm when my brother David called from NY, concerned with the news that snowstorms downed many powerlines in the Carolinas.I think he imagined his delicate little sister shivering away in a cold, dark house but I put his fears to rest. I think it hardly ever snows in Charleston, the weather being tropical, much like in Miami.

I just sold my beautiful little green VW Beetle to this sweet Charleston couple, the Pattersons. Actually to be fair and precise, I sold it to Amanda, the beautific female counterpart, to have and to own, because she loved my baby car and paid for it herself(she made sure to state that!).

I was a tragically pathetic carseller, barely able to talk for fear of bursting into tears. After all, letting go of this antromorphized green box on wheels was symbolic of of letting go of everything I lost this past year and a half.It was the very last remnant of my collection of beloved treasures, beautiful houses, antiques and objects of great beauty. It felt like I was letting go of an old, dear friend, my pride and joy, my prime possession. I felt very young and embarrassed for crying though Bob and Amanda were sympathetic and did'nt laugh at me but rather comforted me with kindness and understanding.

Which leads me to the next step, of being a carless woman, having to depend on the kindness of strangers to get places. There's still over a month before I'll be moving back to NY but I can use being stuck in the house to finish more paintings.



November 23, Saturday
Oh vanity, how you rule my life, irregardless of how ferociously I fight it, obsessing about my newly damaged tresses pops up even in my dreams. I feel totally ugly and dread looking in the mirror, yet I constantly sneak peeks and get even more depressed. Thermal conditioning, my bum!More like science experiment gone wrong, leaving my hairshaft like crispy rope. And it keeps breaking , and I have short idiot- bangs and look pathetic. BOOHOO! And on top of everything, I feel shallow and vain to be so distraught over hair when there's so much suffering and hunger in the world.

For some oddball reason I wonder what Mother Theresa would've done if her hair got fried by a good intentioned hairdresser ...I do think actually, that she would rant and rave and smite with fire and brimstone because she was a feisty little saint.

But the question is whether she would bother with Japanese Thermal Conditioning in the first place? (...and the image is cracking me up)

Nah... I honestly think she'd have passed on the "pleasure". Instead, she'd have used the time and energy to nurture some sick hungry people, with the babushka on her head(which'll cover a multitude of hair-sins, to say the least)

OK,OK, so I'm not Mother Theresa. To be really honest, I don't even want to be. I'm not good with self deprivation, and I LOOOOVE the sensuous joys of life. Besides, I have an almost reverent taste for Beauty, . So in conclusion, I just decided to put my frail little hair in two braids, tie them with grossgrain ribbon and forget about them. And from the relative luxury of my life, do everything I can to give to people, starting next week by going back to regular voluteer work.



November 16 2002
Here I am, more than a month from my last entry. Can't believe I waited this long,though with all fairness to myself I must state that the dog ate my homework. Well, it's kinda true...the journal was written and saved to my desktop, but doggonit, got lost somewhere in cyberspace....There's a story behind this moronic endevour but it's too dumb to share. Instead, let me show off a bit and acknowledge some of my gains these past weeks:I just learned how to use the software which'll transfer directly to my website(thank you Doug!), have been working out and building a bionic body(thank you Susan!), have been mindfully and meticulously working on my integrity as a human being, painting and creating a future for myself. And finally, most importantly, I've become strong enough to be on my own.

This last one may sound like a piddly achievement, but for me , it's HUGE.

I'm ready to be a real grown-up, to live on my own and gladly, it feels exciting.

There, now I declared it, there's no going back or changing my mind. It's awesome how powerfully motivating a declaration of intent can be. I don't know for sure if it's because of the embarrasement of going back on one's word or because there's indeed an energetic field of consciousness which helps propel the new reality into existence. But whatever the cause...the effect is powerful.

OK, one more thing to show off with: my painting is on the cover of Skirt magazine's November issue. You can all see it online as well, just log on to skirtmag.com.

This is extra special for me because it's my first time in print (as a painter) and also because Skirt magazine is one of my all time favorites. It's totally dedicated to women, homegrown yet sophisticated, proud to be a woman but not militant or angry. In other words, refreshing.

It's a mighty sweet feeling seeing my work stare back at me at newstands. What strikes me is how much more comfortable my relationship is with this artform...not the familiar panicked discomfort I feel when I see myself on the screen. And in truth I'm a far better actor than I am a painter, but it's easier to be accepting of a canvas than it is of my reflection.

I must return to work now in my beautiful light filled studio.I've been waiting all day for the afternoon sun to paint and now is it.



October 13,2002
I'll write a paragraph or two, just to get my feet feet wet again...been away from my computer for the past month and it's just like with working out - I'm hopelessly lazy until I get cranked.It's around 1.30 a.m. and my internal clock has gone out of whack, so I'm using the time to do something more productive than layingsr+ bed trying to fall asleep.

I returned from NYC a couple of days ago and Freddy has been occupying most of my time, day and night since I returned. The poor little pup has a very serious and frightening ulcer in his right eye. He was in so much pain that when I arrived there was no excited tail wagging and kisses-very uncharacteristic! We had to take him to the emergency room because his eye became worse as the day progressed, and had turned milky white, like an X-Files eye.It's thankfully under control, but the first few nights he kept me up, crying and moving around the room. The only time he'd fall asleep was when he was safely up on the bed, which of course makes it very hard for me to stretch out 'cause as little as he is, he's a great big bedhog. I love him so much, I can't even imagine what it'd like if anything happened to him...God, I hope he never dies!

I'm becoming droopy eyed sleepy so I'll continue tomorrow.



September 12, 2002
To my dismay, It turns out that the TV station wants to use the footage, regardless of what wetold them about it not making "good television". On top of that, a camera crew is coming to the apartment tonight to film an "after the trip" story. Right now it's so much easier to write than to talk about what I'm going thru, but since I made a promise, I must deliver. Alright. I'm going to use this as a high speed catalyst to get my mind in gear and make verbal sense of the experience.Isee clearer than ever before, that I have a choice in what I take with me. I can choose to stay with the grief, fear or the anger, or choose to go beyond them and celebrate the courage and generousity so many have manifested. I pray we can all use this event as a catharsis that will shake us out of being so myopicly focused on what is wrong in our life, and instead focus on what's right. When so much has been lost, whatever's left becomes that much more precious.



September 11, 2002
Just walked into the house from the tail end of the NYC, 4 hr. excursion. Before anything, I ran the tub ful of hot water, heavy on aromatherapy potions and gels and soaked and scrubbed, cried and scrubbed some more. I'm now clean, fragrant and relaxed, and 5 lbs. lighter than last night this time.

I'm tired and deeply changed.

This trip has turned out quite a bit differently than anticipated. It was far more than revisiting the beloved city and doing a documentary on that. I thought I really am done dealing with my emotions about what happened , therefore not expecting any big emotional reactions. The violent wind storm was the only difficulty I saw to filming the journey ,but a moment after we got out of the cab at the Chapel ofSt. Paul's , I found myself crying with big heaving sobs. Right there, the very first thing I saw, was the most heartbreaking memorial site, decked out with things so gentle and personally powerful it knocked my breath away; Hundreds of well-worn hats and t-shirts, some stained by sweat or frayed , each with the name of the person it used to belong to. There were letters from small kids written with colored crayons and lots of flowers and candles. Somehow, the personal items took me to a strange place, where I felt as if I was there with them when the towers collapsed. I experienced a horrible sense of loss and thought about how fragile human life is. . I was pacing around, the grief too awesome to contain standing still. The crowds were milling around, on the whole seemingly neutral, but their presence so close to ground zero was proof that they didn't choose to shut the door on the past but maybe to revisit it and bring IT back with them into the rest of their life.

This is what happened with me today. I got to ground zero, my eyes running rivulets of tears, and not a sentence of any cohesion takes up residence in my head. When an idea comes, an insight, I argue with myself , debating the validity of any and all my thoughts. With a jolt I make a mental note to myself, " hey, self, here you thought the experience only made you stronger and braver! Well, think again!!!"And I suddenly understand with some compassion for myself....I, a girl with passionate beliefsand strong ideas about what's important , suddenly has become uncertain about practically everything.

I've watched my friends listen to me this past year, squirming uncomfortably, having been used to the Sarit, who's a180 degrees from this wishy washy, pensive philosopher, afraid to make decisions, not willing to commit even to a statement or a fully finished sentence.

Heck, your whole world falls upside down, you lost almost a million dollars in the market, just a few months before, and when 9.11 happened.....My god, just look at my home page : I write that I believe in the divine nature of all living beings. This was written just a few weeks before 9.11 and I haven't deleted it because on some level I think it's true. Yet I also think that we lose our innocence and that can lead to an inability to trust the world as we knew it before.. all of our deepest beliefs come into question... trauma has a way of doing that.

And sometimes, until you make sense of it all and make your closure, the only way to cope is by keeping your heart under wraps, giving your voice permission to be silent.

I doubt if the footage will have any redeeming parts, most of the footage is me crying, sobbing, unable finish a simple thought, feeling violated by the camera that's running footage of my cathartic and rather uncontrolled breakdown.

Oh well, I didn't know it would be like that and even if it's bad for the documentary, I think it's very good for me. Even as soon as leaving for the airport and then on the plane, I began feeling an opening in me... initially, just by realizing all of the above and then by making a firm decision to get back to myself, pronto. I'm now ready to welcome back again that woman, with her passionate strength of conviction,who also had the openess to hear and gratefuly receive from others, but not at the expense of her Self.



August 28 2002
Summer's almost over and I'm glad for it, maybe for the very first time in my life. Usually, these last few weeks of August have a way of placing a shadow on my otherwise sunny-bright interior (and exterior, if you're gonna be nosy). There's always been this feeling of "over too soon and now it's gonna be cold and boohoohoo".

Well, not this time! I became a different kind of earthling this last year. So does that mean I'm braver and more adventurous?I heartily say yes! YES YES YES!

It shows in the way I'm painting again, with the sensuousroundness and voluptuousness that only oils allow. Also my state of mind ... I am like this sexy virgin who lets out all her pent up sexual energy onto any form of inspired expression. And heck, it shows! these late images have a spontaneity and immediacy, very unpolished though but also free of the other pitfalls I'd find myself using in the past as a kind of hot-tub of self delusion.

I want things and finally I'm able to put them into words rather than schmeering them up with a thick, nonspecific, etherial and irritating verbage and behavior that was subconciously designed to be a trump card in the poker of life. In truth, I never did play poker or any other game of chance -they all have the efficacy of a sleeping pill on me.

I get so much more satisfaction from consciously spontaneous choices, little left to fate. When I have that in place, I instantly turn into supergirl and can fly and fight the bad guys with great ease and still have plenty left over to be girlie and go shopping with my friend, the very beautiful Shoshana, for funky high heel shoes on a platfom and ankle straps and do it with the same passionate abandon (cause everyone knows you need passion and abandon to surrender to the hunt for the perfect shoe,Tis serious stuff I tell you, )

Of course, the spiritual path that both Shoshana and I put at the center of our life, has a way of transcending even the most mundane activity.

My Painting is going to be the cover of the November issue of Skirt magazine and that's very exciting. I admire the magazine, it's sense of what women aspire to and what makes them feel better about life. I feel honored to have been asked, which ever Nikki wants to use, I'm totally behind it.Whoah, the time is 3:10 am and I have to get up in less than 4 hrs, yoga class and then workout with Mandy. I'm planing on getting my body in perfect shape before I leave for New-York just in case I'll get offered some acting thing , which of course could happen.Want to write more about being kicked out of the the Landmark Forum but that'll have to wait, I'm getting sleepy I think



07/11/02
That's it! Finally the time has come for me to step forward and do something beyond batting my lashes.

Phew,seems I dedicated the past few years to being, well... "cute"...

Which in itself is not a bad thing.

But the condition had a built in side effect - the atrophy of my massively underused brain - which is.

A very bad thing.

I'm about to fix all that, but first things first....

My buddy Doug, who created this website for me, deserves kudos and hugs and of course, immortality....the latter, for teaching me how to add new text to the site.

This is so much fun! I mean, being able to actually have fresh input when things happen in the world.Whoa!

Having thisbeautiful website just sit there and look pretty, felt kinda like owning a beautiful trumpet that I didn't know how to use.

So now I'm learning how to blow my own horn, so to speak....

And it's about time, anyway.This last year has brought about some of the biggest changes in the lives of millions of people, with the collapse of the stock market and the ensuing stress, to be followed by terrorist attacks and the murder of thousands of innocent people in the US and Israel.The Twin Towers , my beloved New-York's two front teeth, collapsed right in front of my eyes.Watching in horror as people struggled away from the smoke and flames and as they jumped to their death...dear God, how could you let it happen?

I think no one who'd witnessed that will ever be the same again.

It goes deeper than the initial reaction to the attacks: the banding together of the nation, raising the approval rate for George W. to the highest it's been and some serious patriotic outbursts(the likes of which haven't been seen since WWII, according to some old Vets) which made us celebrate our red-white-and blueness with everything fron flags to designer clothes.

I think it's a change in consciousness, a certain loss of innocence....

For me, the change manifests philosophically as well. In essence, I'm still the girl who likes checking out the latest makeup at Sephora and the lingerie at Vicky's Secret. Parading around in beautifulsandals still thrills me. As does sipping on a Viennese ice coffee with coffee ice-cream and whipped cream.

Yet there's something that's different at the core.

I'm not as certain anymore about anything. I find myself hesitating, even as I express an opinion. I'm trying to put myself in others' point of view, thus questioning everything. Even things I used to believe about the nature of mankind is become questioned and questionable. I don't know anymore if everyone can be transformed by love, or if for some people it's not too late?