Eat. Pray. Sleep. Repeat.

“And, when you want something, all the Universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” – Paolo Coelo, The Alchemist

The last two weeks have been a testament to this truth.  

It began last Saturday night during ma’agal Shabbat. This is a weekly ritual where we reconvene for “circle time” and share our honest feelings with the group. (Obviously I am a big fan).

This time, we were encouraged to share things that were weighing heavy on us.

Our madricha pointed out that the “honeymoon phase” of our program is nearing an end; people are getting frustrated with one another, some of us are homesick, some are overwhelmed by the pre-army process, and others are feeling suffocated by our daily schedule.

I shared a different concern.

I told the group that I felt a spiritual void. I felt that I moved to Israel—a place that is on a higher spiritual plane—and yet I still felt disconnected.

While sharing this with the group, I came to a realization. Yes, I am leading weekly Kabbalat Shabbat singing, blessing my food when I remember, and thanking G-d throughout the day. I do feel more connected than I did in America. But I realized I was not growing my Jewish practice. I thought to myself: I need a teacher or a study group…I need to get on a path of learning.

Flash forward to Sunday morning (the next day), 8:15 a.m, Ulpan class. We are slouching drowsily in our seats, gripping onto our coffee mugs for dear life. A bearded man wearing a kippa and tzitzit enters the room. I recognize him—he’s the Rabbi who came into our meeting room a while back to offer some classes on Judaism. I wasn’t able to make the first class, and after that, I forgot he existed. He said that at 3:00 he was offering a class/discussion on Rosh HaShana (the Jewish New Year). I thought to myself that I should attend, but only if I finish all my errands beforehand.

It’s 2:55 p.m. and I haven’t even begun folding my clothes. The mental debate begins—what to do. I fold one shirt, and then realize how silly it would be to miss this class for something I could do literally anytime. WAKE UP, LEORA, IT’S THE NEW YEAR AND IT’S TIME TO BE JEWISH.

4:00 p.m., the class is over, and I am in deep conversation with the Rabbi who I just met. I share with him my hesitations about living a halachic life (following all the rules), my thoughts on spirituality, on gratitude, on joining the army. I pump the breaks – don’t scare this poor man.

He said that if there is enough demand, he’ll offer daily lessons during our free time. I nodded giddily, surprising myself with my desire to learn.

What’s strange is that the Rabbi wasn’t even supposed to speak to my Ulpan class that morning (or anytime in the near future). Something in his schedule opened up last minute, and he felt called to come to our class that day. Some would call this a coincidence—I call it hashgacha pratit (divine providence). My prayers were answered overnight.

Since then, I’ve been to 4 classes with the Rabbi, ate a Shabbat meal at his house, and will continue to learn with him, his wife (a yogi & Cancer star sign, like me), and my counselors Avishag and Nimrod.

I feel that now, of all times, is the perfect time to invite more Jewish practices and knowledge into my life. It’s a new year, Yom Kippur is approaching (tonight), and HELLO, I moved to the Jewish state. Although I still feel constantly torn by the opposing secular and religious forces of Israeli society, I am trying to let go of the stress and open myself to new experiences. The idea is to taste everything in order to find the path that best suits me.

Thus, my Rosh HaShana was just that—a jumble of secular, religious, and everything in between. For the first meal I went to a friend of my mothers in Herzliya (a 10 minute drive from me). I was so excited about eating real food that I filled up on salads…but alas that didn’t stop me from trying everything. 3 plates of food later, I rolled out of their home happy, full with gourmet food and good laughs, and glad to have connected with new “family.” Besides the food, having my hair done and singing Sound of Music with my new 4-and-6-year-old friends was probably the highlight. I missed playing with kids (shoutout to sista Kate) so playing babysitter that night was lovely.

The next day I went to Synagogue, as all “good Jews” do on the High Holidays. I think walking to and from Synagogue was more meaningful than the service itself. On the way, I spoke with my friends about what we wanted to change about ourselves in the coming year. We smiled at strangers on the street and wished them “shana tova.” We walked through the carless streets of Ra’anana and appreciated our blooming, beautiful home.

After a 4-hour lunch, I changed outfits and headed to the next meal at my adopted family’s house. Jewish holidays in Israel = Eat. Pray. Sleep. Repeat. Later I found time to read and sketch a drawing in bed, two things I haven’t done in so long (picture posted below). It was exactly what I needed.

Early the next day, while still recovering from my food hangover, a sound stopped me in my tracks on the way to the laundry room. I dropped my laundry bag and a huge smile spread across my face when I realized it was a Shofar blast.

Well, I thought to myself, I just fulfilled a mitzvah while doing laundry. Awesome.

While putting soap in the machine I thought about what the Shofar signifies. I learned in my class with the Rabbi that the Shofar is like the alarm clock for the Jews. While it actually is symbolic of Abraham nearly sacrificing his son Isaac, the deeper meaning is that it’s time for us to wake up, do cheshbon nefesh (soul accounting), and think about who we’ve been the past year and who we want to be in the year to come. 

I’ve been doing a lot of this soul accounting lately—what relationships am I investing in? What were my gains and losses this year? How do I measure my net worth?

They’re questions worth asking.

I have a lot more to tell you all about the past few weeks. They’ve been some of the fullest weeks of my life. But I’m headed now to a Kibbutz in the desert for Yom Kippur. I’m bringing with me a sleeping bag, a prayer book, and a book (in Hebrew) called “Letters to Talia,” which is the correspondence between a secular kibbutznikit girl and an Orthodox Yeshiva boy—a perfect read for this crazy time in my life.

Wishing my tribe members a meaningful Yom Kippur, easy fast, and gmar chatima tova – may you be inscribed (in the book of life) for Good.

My Rosh Hashana Drawing (Sid, from Ice Age)