Ask the Priestess

Victory - the word sounds grandiose, bellicose, or historical. Yet, there are small victories we accomplish each and every day, which can keep us afloat when we feel most adrift. Battling depression, recognising and celebrating one's victories is a major element of daily practice. Gratitude lists, so en vogue nowadays among the self-help crowd, have long been a part of therapy. Some evenings, the list fills up so fast, your hand feels nearly unable to keep up; other times, it takes effort to make up the 3-5 minimum elements (each person has their own minimum number). The crux of the problem resides in the fact that, for it to be truly effective, a gratitude list has to be genuine - you must feel honestly grateful for that bit of reality in your life. It needn't be a massive blessing. Nevertheless, it must bring you real joy, even if just a spark. Some of the things I have been grateful for, as time has gone bye and I revisit the technique, include family members, jobs, ...

NB - This is not a happy post, be aware. As the sun sets, and the stars come out, we light candles and remember. 6 million - more people than the population of some countries. Imagine a city, such as Miami, or Riyadh, or Singapore, and all its inhabitants rounded up, tortured, murdered, and desecrated. That is what we remember on יום השואה (Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Memorial Day). At least, that's the main idea. The full name is יום הזיכרון לשואה ולגבורה - (Yom HaZikaron laShoah velaGvura) Holocaust and Heroism Remembrance Day. Behind the title, there is the pain of loss, as well as the remembrance of the heroic fight for life each of those people engaged on, whatever form it took: rebellion, submission, adaptation. And then, the heroic continuation of life for those who survived, fighting daily with their own memories, with the weight of survival where so many others did not make it. We cry for those who were taken away, but also for those who carry the horrors within them. W...

Last Friday was Leila Seder , the beginning of Pesach, also known as 'Passover'. For Jews, it is one of the major holidays, when they celebrate leaving slavery behind in search of their Promised Land. It is thus additionally known as 'The Holiday of Freedom', although among the more lay of the community, it is often referred to as 'The Holiday of Spring', given it usually falls around the time the weather warms up and winter wanes. Last Friday was also Good Friday, when Christians remember The Crucifixion. This took place after Jesus was captured when he and his disciples were celebrating Leila Seder , which is also probably why the bread given out during communion in mass is flat. During Pesach, there is no leavening agents used in cooking - no sodium bicarbonate, no rising agents, nada . This is to commemorate that, as the Israelites were fleeting Pharaoh's lands, they had no time to sit and wait for the dough to rise for bread. Instead of yummy, airy br...

Touch is essential to human beings. Our skin is our largest organ, with its millions of nerve ends connecting its surface to our more innermost centres. Even if we lose any of our senses, touch will remain, may it because we actively touch someone else, or because we are being touched. That may be the reason why we use expressions such as 'it's a very touching story' to imply that our emotional compass has been affected; or 'keep in touch', when what we want is for the other person to remain a part of our tribe, for we care for them and their presence is precious to us; and why most of us relish being caressed, hugged, and so forth. In the last 24 hours, I have experienced all of these three aspects: To begin with, I went for a massage. I do so monthly, to help keep my back in shape despite a sedentary job. I only recently realised that it also helps supply the physical contact humans require to live. I am not particularly keen on being randomly touched, despi...

Sisterhood. Sorority. The union of women. I grew up in a female environment: my mum, my grandma, my sisters. Even the cats were female. For the earliest period of my life, I attended a nun-run, female-only school. I even define as a witch, a traditionally female role. I may not have intended it, but I certainly learned the value of female inter-support. Many people talk about the strength that a sense of brotherhood grants its group; army life, for example, is highly dependent on the feelings fraternity brings to the battlefield. Similarly, one finds it creeping through as a sign of sturdy reliability on each other for organisations such as the Masons, gangs, or even college houses. On the other hand, female relationships are often observed with a certain level of mistrust, women considered more prone to backstabbing and 'catfighting' over minor issues. As such, their unions and clubs, their societies, receiving less praise, are kept in a greatly shaded area. I'm here...

I'm used to being strong and healthy. Sure, I have had issues over the years, but in general, I'd say I've enjoyed mostly health. I also used to do a relatively nice amount of exercise - not machines, more yoga, Pilates, swimming and walking. Then, a couple of years ago, that changed. I find that I have to take days off because I'm dizzy, so I cannot function comfortably. I also realise eating junk leaves me exhausted, moody, and that I 'have to pay' for it. Worse of all, the whole situation means I struggle to do any exercise, which in turn pushes me to feel less able to enjoy being in my own skin. Of course, I know that it is a reality, that it happens. One minor complaint left unattended led to another, seemingly unrelated, condition. On and on, until I am so far away from the initial point, that I appear lost in a maze of my own frustrations. Because, in all honesty, the worst thing of it all is the frustration. Sure, being unwell is painful and uncomf...

I love languages. I speak several, having been blessed with growing up in a multi-cultural family, as well as lived in a number of countries. Moreover, I used to work in language education, in addition to proof-reading, translating, editing. Languages, I find, are fabulously rich tools to understand culture. Languages have to be rich, since they have developed over thousands of years to explain all the experiences all the members of a community have lived through, everything they needed to convey, to teach, to share, to remember. There are families of words, of languages, of histories. Some languages have been nearly static for a long time, their isolated peoples unchanging as well. Others, have developed flexibility in order to accommodate invasions, empires, new cultures that intertwine into a new, greater community. Then, there are the languages used as mementos, whose social anchors have disappeared, e.g. Latin, or artificial creations for specific groups, like Esperanto, Klin...