Lesson 93 – Rabbit Ash the Lonely Rabbi

I expected I’d have a lot to write about.
Since I’ve been quiet for so long.

I expected the rage would propel these lessons on.

I expected the thoughts that I’d had about future blog posts – the notes that I have made in my phone whilst hurrying from one thing to another – would have made this simple.

But, instead, I find myself entirely unmotivated to write, once more.

Sure, I am two days out from this post going live.
Sure, I am emotionally wrung out after Bega Baby left these British shores for those closer to her native cheese home.
Sure, I am excellent at procrastinating.
But also, I don’t know which theme/topic/idea to prioritise this week.

Tomorrow is Yom Kippur.
The Day of Atonement.
The Jewish day of fasting and being sorry for the stuff they’ve done/didn’t do/should have done for the past year.
Which is why I’m writing this today…
Tomorrow, I will sit in shul, as I do every year.
I will listen to and participate in prayers.
I will endeavour to ignore my hunger.
I will become utterly exhausted and wonder how to keep focus.
And then, at some unexpected point in the day, I’ll find the meditation I seek.
So let’s start there…

Lesson 93

Inevitably, in my meditation tomorrow, my over-active brain will cycle through the same thoughts as every year previous:
I should be a Rabbi!
A real one…
How much study does it really take?
How expensive is the course?
Does it matter that I don’t really believe in G-d?
I know all of these answers already.
I look them up in the week after Yom Kippur.
Every year.
What am I doing with my life?
Why did I move to England anyway?
Why can’t I be more productive?
More efficient?
More prolific?
I’ll dissect all of these thoughts in my next therapy session.
Will I ever meet someone?
There’s nothing wrong with being alone.
Is there?
There isn’t.
But it’d be nice to have someone for a little while, at least.
I’ll probably die alone.
Will I die alone?
What if I die alone?
I’ll die by over-thinking, that’s for sure.

Anyway, the point is, I already have a strong notion of where my mind will wander.
But does that negate the necessity of spending the day reflecting and having the same inner crises?
Because it’s only when I’m truly alone with these thoughts – or, I suppose, if you were to believe in G-d, you’d say you are alone with your thoughts and G-d – that the possibility of new answers, new ideas and new solutions can come.

Will I become a real Rabbi?
It’s highly unlikely.
I shy away from the use of never in any sentence like this, but I’d say we’re pretty close.
Yes, I’d be great at the job.
But no, I don’t think it’s one I’ll come to.
I like being a Rabbit.
What am I doing with my life?
If ever I can answer that question, I feel like I’ll no longer be me.
Who knows?!
That’s the fun of the game!
I’m trying my best with my life, that’s what I’m doing.
I’m living.
I’m experiencing.
I’m doing.
I’m trying.
That’s all I can expect of myself.
Will I die alone?
Who knows.
And there’s no point in worrying about it.
If I am going to be alone, there’s nothing I can do about it.
And I have no idea when I’m going to die, so what’s the point in obsessing over it?

So, maybe tomorrow, instead of letting these thoughts muddle around and around, I’ll try to think of constructive things for my over-active imagination to work on.
Or some more interesting blog posts.
Or I’ll just go back to the days of fantasising about all the food I’m not eating.

This week’s lesson?
You need to have serious qualifications to graduate to Rabbinical training.




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