Structure = Creativity

A frum life is one of consistency and repetition. From the time one wakes up until one goes to sleep, there are numerous prayers, rituals, and commandments that regulate the day. 

Via judaicaneedlepoint.com

I adore my life of habit. Yet I am now considering pursuing writing as a focus. As we all know, artists are fickle and unpredictable, prone to passion and self-destruction. Hm. Can't do that. 

I was pleasantly surprised, then, to discover in David Brooks' "The Good Order," that many a famous writer were beings of routine. A number were—ah!—morning people. 

Henry Miller

Henry Miller declared that insight could only be found in a disciplined life. In turn, Brooks connects, everything requires discipline. 

People who lead routine, anal-retentive lives have a bad reputation in our culture. But life is paradoxical. In situation after situation, this pattern recurs: order and discipline are the prerequisites for creativity and daring.

This is true on so many levels. Children need emotional and physical order so they can go off and explore. A parent’s main job is to provide daily predictability and emotional security.

Communities need order to thrive and cooperate since where there is chaos and disorder there is distrust and withdrawal. The main job of local leaders is to provide the basic infrastructure of security: roads, police, honest judges and orderly schools.

The world needs order, too, a set of assumed norms and routines that all nations adhere to. 

If everyone gave in to personal whim, instead of structure, where would we all be?

Apparently, the self-aware artist is conscious of mental chaos, and so applies boundaries and walls to organize themselves, to be ideally productive.  

I never thought of myself as a calm person, but recently listening to Brené Brown, I was shocked to discover I actually am, based on her definition. Calm people breathe, ask questions on possibly upsetting news, and once having all the facts, debate whether freaking out will help anything. 

When did I become a calm person? I learned how to breathe. I decided to overcome my tendency to passively accept information. Once I freaked out when I was in high school and that didn't change my homework load, so why bother? But it didn't happen overnight, and I am certainly not there 100% yet. However, I have changed, with the help of order.

It's not just enough to be what we are. We should become in order to be our best.     

You Can Say That Down Under

Sometimes I fail to realize how much romance is sucked out of our lives in-town. 

My Australian cousin sat across the table, his peyos tucked behind his ears, his tzitzis dangling, a fuzzy black velvet kapul parked on his head. He was newly engaged, his eyes shining at the mention of his fiancée. 

He swiped through his phone, selecting a beloved shot. "Do you want to see my darling?" he crooned. I nearly choked on my salmon. 

I concurred his "darling" was lovely, coughing delicately to clear the fish from my throat as I handed the photo along for the rest of the family to "ooh" over.

Well, we ain't in the Outback anymore. 

Professing an endearment about one's intended? In public? I never heard that before, never mind from a good semi-Chassidish yeshiva boy. 

This kid comes from the same branch of uptight Europeans as I do. His momma keeps him on the "straight and narrow," but apparently, "darling" is allowed down under.

Sure, loving glances from across the room, whispery-giggly conversations in corners, but "darling"? 

Us NYC folk need to chill out.   

Storytime

Officially, Jews don't pasken from maaselach. 

Until we do. We can't help ourselves. 

Children are fascinated with any tale. When my niece asks, "Do you have any stories?" she means specifically details from my dating fiascoes.  I myself am a sucker for any anecdote of "How the Happy Couple Met."

My mother, like her mother before her, is a storyteller. Her memory is incomparable, and she mentally records numerous happenings for future reference, to be tugged out and dusted off for application to nearly any current situation.   

 

Stories have power. Scheherazade managed to keep her head firmly attached to her neck by managing to crank one out a day. 1,001 Arabian Nights is not the only saga of how storytelling saves lives.

And how stories survive! Megillas Esther is retold every year, and is no less gripping. We hold our breath in suspense, we weep in fear, we cheer when the good guys win. Then we reenact, donning our Mordechai, Esther, Haman, and Achashverosh costumes. 

Even in areas of life we would think storytelling does not connect to, it does. Brené Brown's shame data comes from a method called "qualitative research," which means listening to many personal tales and finding the connecting threads. In "Why Doctors Need Stories," Peter Kramer reports that vignettes, once shunned from the medical field, are now having a revival.

I was listening to a Purim shiur by Rabbi Y.Y. Rubenstein. In Modim, he said, we thank Hashem for His wonders that take place daily. Accordingly, some rabbanim have said that we should keep journals. 

There are small wonders, large wonders, medium-sized wonders that happen in our lives. We should write them down. (Ma doesn't have to. Nothing gets lost in that head of hers.) 

And tell them over.         

Smile! You're an Idiot!

I was born and remained gullible and earnest, a wide-eyed innocent. Tell me something, and chances are I will believe you. It was a lonely state to be in, this extended childhood, and my more street-wise contemporaries laughed at my constant naivete. 

 

But, as I was gleeful to discover, technology is making everyone around me the same stupid. That was what Peter Funt concluded while creating Candid Camera ("Curses, Fooled Again!") He thought technology would make people sharper, less likely to fall for his traps; they are actually now more susceptible to them.

That may seem counterintuitive, but I’m certain it’s true. Much has to do with multitasking. When my dad, Allen Funt, introduced the show over six decades ago, he had to work at distracting people. Nowadays they do it to themselves.

Many people we now encounter are fiddling with cellphones and other devices, tackling routine activities with less-than-full focus. That makes them easier targets for our little experiments, but also more vulnerable to personal mishaps and genuine scams.

I worried briefly that people are now so tech-savvy that some of our props and fake setups wouldn’t be believed. Instead, we found that the omnipresence of technology has reached a point where people will now accept almost anything . . .

I don’t necessarily believe 21st-century Americans are more gullible, but they tend to give that impression by protesting life’s little insults without taking time to fully digest the situation.

People accept because they don't think. Interesting. 

I don’t mind the smartphone obsession in our scenes; it’s rather funny. It is a shame, though, that so many people now interrupt real life — in effect hollering “cut” — to record what could be called Act One. In doing so they spoil their own Act Two.

Why must everything be recorded? Chances are, that video file will never be played. It seems so important right then to preserve this hysterical/cute/outrageous moment forever, but it's not. The moment is being ruined by holding up that smartphone and tapping. 

Much hasn’t changed over the years. For example, I expected to encounter more profanity in everyday conversation, but it’s really not there. I also wondered whether young people would be less spontaneous and engaged when caught in our scenarios, yet there’s no hint of that whatsoever. I thought in these litigious times fewer people would sign a waiver to appear on our show, but the percentages have stayed about the same over the years.

I do note that today more people step out in public looking a bit disheveled and unkempt and are then hesitant to sign because they’re not happy with their appearance.

Hey, that's why it's always important to look good. You never know when a film crew will have you in their sights.  

 

"Don't Waste the Pretty"

"Have you tried _________?" they ask.

I always have tried to take care of that which is in my sphere of influence. Diverting meteorites doesn't fall within my purview, so I do not spend sleepless nights pondering the implosion of the universe. 

I concern myself with returning library books on time, babysitting to the best of my competence, and if I tell someone I will be there at 10:30, I aim to arrive by 10:20.

The question is, where does meeting, wooing, and marrying one's life partner come in? Is that under the "alien invasion" category, out of my hands, or is it a task to be resolved, like doing laundry?

"Did you go to this shadchan?" 

"Have you gone to a singles event?" 

"Do you even want to get married?" 

I found some comfort in, of all places, He's Just Not That Into You by Greg Behrendt (I posted about this book before and before.) 

Greg presents the being of men as follows: Guys, when they want a gal, will do their darnedest to get her. That's how their minds work. If they are the ones being actively pursued, but it's not mutual, while they may go grudgingly along with it initially, chances are a long-term relationship will not ensue. 

While women today can be anything they can be, that has not changed the embedded caveman mentality of the modern male. So, ladies, you have to quit being overt in banging-heads-with-frying-pan tactics. If a dude likes you "that" way, he will not let anything stop him. 

If a woman is currently in a "I don't know where we stand" crossroads, the fellow is just not that into you. He won't say it, because he doesn't want to have to explain himself, or awkwardly comfort, or deal with messy emotions; he'll drift along until matters peter out or the woman takes a hint and cuts him loose. 

Ever heard a story of a couple who dated for months, years, and the guy won't propose, but as soon as they break up he's engaged to a gal he knew for a couple of weeks? 

Girls like to make excuses, to find reasons. 

"Well, he would have gone out with me again if—"

"His brother got divorced, so he's scared." 

"I know he will propose. I know it. Soon. I just have to—" 

"Don't waste the pretty," Greg says.

Women, your job is to look fabulous. 

That's it.

We like to think we have evolved, or something. But the dating mores weren't much different on the Starship Enterprise. Women still wore makeup, and Riker was the master of the pickup line.

Am I doing "enough"? 

I think so.       

Friday Links

And you thought Jewish singles had it tough. 30,000 possibilities at a singles event? Hoo-ee. 

Did you do your good deed for the day?

 

Sleep, the Magic Drug

I'm serious about sleep. I need it the way an infant does, and I cry if I don't get it, the way an infant does. Every evening, I slowly power down like an obsolete computer, complete with checklist. No liquids past 7:30. TV off at 9. 15-30 minutes of reading, in dim, non-stimulating lighting. 

I can then reboot to greet the new day early and cheerfully.

Ergo, I am always a tad baffled when conversing with those who sleep in short, casual sequences: typically, guys. Many, many a date has told me these exact words: "Sleep? Five hours, that's all I need." Uh-huuuuuh. 

I couldn't help but think of these fellows when perusing an interview of Arianna Huffington and Kobe Bryant.

Philip Galenes (interviewer): Next up: Sleep. How much do you get?

KB: I’ve grown. I used to get by on three or four hours a night. I have a hard time shutting off my brain. But I’ve evolved. I’m up to six to eight hours now.

PG: What changed?

KB: Growing up and understanding the importance of shutting down and unwinding.

AH: Which is huge in a culture where people brag about how little sleep they get, like a macho thing: “Oh, I only need four hours.” And it coincides with the new science about the connections between sleep and health, cleaning out the toxins of the day, the connection between sleep deprivation and Alzheimer’s.

PG: Sounds like a miracle drug.

AH: But I was one of the delusional ones. It wasn’t until my wake-up call of collapsing from exhaustion in 2007 that I started prioritizing sleep.

PG: Any sleep rituals?

AH: My transition is a hot bath and absolutely no devices. All phones and computers are escorted out of my bedroom at least an hour before bed. And real books that have nothing to do with work.

Getting too little sleep results in . . . well, death, new studies are showing. Our bodies and minds need it. Claiming to be above sleep is just macho posturing. Macho posturing rarely ends well. 

I've heard from a number of people how they suffer from insomnia and are simply bad sleepers, but when I ask them what their sleep ritual is, they have none. Makeup doesn't just happen, healthy diets doesn't just happen, being fit doesn't just happen, and sleep doesn't just happen. There's even a term for it: sleep hygiene. If there is a nightly protocol, it works, studies also show.

Now how attractive is that?

Pack away anything with a screen, read or meditate to clear the mind, 3 mg of melatonin prior can also help, and go to bed and get up the same time.

It's okay. You can still be cool and sleep seven hours a night. 

It's Not You, It's Not Me

"Thank you, really, for thinking of me, but he's just not for me."
 
"But why don't you want to go out with him again?" 

"Thank you, really, for thinking of me, but he's just not for me."

"But why?"

I keep verbally dancing back and forth, continuing to thank, refusing to detail. Please don't make me say why. 

What I really, really, really hate about dating is how it forces me to judge people. I, the self-professed loather of labels, am now the owner of a theoretical label-maker. 

"Eeeeeh, look at his information. He's way too yeshivish/modern/I don't know what that is, but it's not me." 

"Eeeeeh, look at his Facebook page. Look how he chooses to present himself, knowing girls who are redt to him will see this." 

"Eeeeeh. Just 'eeeeeh.'"

Some things can't be articulately defined. Very often, I have a sense before the date, but it's not a valid enough excuse to opt out, so go on the date anyway. And, I was . . . right. 

"But why?" 

 People rarely believe me, but when I went on my first date at 19, I had it all figured out: Marriage is based on a choice, and therefore I can marry anyone and make a good life. 

B'H, I got wise. Eventually.

Yes, marriage does involve choice, but it is also a wee bit more complicated than that (the Gemara backs that up). It's not so simple, whatever anyone says. Matching up two people for life shouldn't be simple, if you think about it.

I want to be able to crawl through this minefield without beredting anyone. Let's be honest, beredting will happen. Maybe one out of twenty was a wonderful guy but just not for me. The other nineteen . . . well, what did I ever do to them to get treated like discarded gum? 

Don't demand that I explain my reasons, just to defend them point by point. This is not a debate. Issues won't magically evaporate in a "Well, in that case . . ."

I will thank you for thinking of me. And I am (often) very grateful. Someone made a potentially awkward effort on my behalf, and I do appreciate it. 

Your suggestion has someone out there for him who will not have the complaints that I do. She won't be bothered by what I am bothered. She will be able to drop the label-maker, smashing it to bits. 

Which is what I want to do.       

Friend-ship, Not Friend-ing

The word "friend" seems to have lost its meaning. The title's potency has diminished over the centuries, and getting verbed by Facebook was the final nail on the coffin. When I looked it up in the dictionary, the definition was rather dispassionate. 

Is it just me, or should "friendship" evoke a great attachment, a sincere mutuality of love and caring? A friend is not merely someone with whom to go shopping and a movie. A friend is not the poor sucker you call up and kvetch to after an unpleasant annoyance, then don't contact when something good happens or when the other could use an empathetic ear. A friend is not someone who has a place in another's life only when it's convenient.

Friendship is not a one-sided state of being. It shouldn't serve only half. It should bring out the best in both parties, not the worst. It should mean fierce loyalty and deep compassion.

David Brooks' "Startling Adult Friendships" lists the benefits of friendships (better decisions, freedom to be oneself, improved character). I tried to think of those examples in real life, not just in terms of my own relationships, but of others. I couldn't really come up with any couple that I have observed in its natural habitat that truly represented selfless, transcendent friendship. 

In the first place, friendship helps people make better judgments. So much of deep friendship is thinking through problems together: what job to take; whom to marry.

You know how many times I read in frum forums: "I met this great girl/guy. I'm so happy. My friend, though, says I'm making a mistake, but doesn't give me any reasons why." 

Are those "friends" really looking out for their swooning pal, or are they simply jealous and fear being alone after their chum prances off into the sunset? 

Brooks' solution—if he was magically granted millions, mind you—would be to built a friendship retreat, mixing up a diverse group of individuals and allowing them to get to know each other. 

While friendship does need time and joint activities to form, just because twenty people are thrown together doesn't necessarily guarantee a relationship. "See you soon, keep in touch" is uttered often, but rarely the promise is practiced. Friendships cannot be forced. There is an element of bashert, there, too. 

The Cheater's Way

Giada de Laurentiis, Ina Garten ("The Barefoot Contessa"), and Rachael Ray were cooking together on a talk show. Each of them topped their dishes with copious fistfuls of parmesan cheese.

Besides for my annoyance at this traifening of potentially kosher meat dishes, I consider parmesan cheese to be the cheater's way out of cooking. Let's be honest: Shredded cardboard would taste fabulous if flavored with that much cheese.

When watching true chefs, like Jacques Pépin (Fast Food My Way, Essential Pépin) and my newly discovered runner-up, Michael Smith (Chef at Home), parmesan rarely gets any screen time. They concoct supreme deliciousness without relying on—in my opinion—the cheater's way out by adding unnecessary sodium and calories.

I am equally unwelcoming to soy sauce, in which one tablespoon contains at least one-third of the daily value of sodium. The reduced version brings it down to one-quarter. 

Via guymeetswok.blogspot.com

Food does not have to be salty, fatty, or cheesy in order to dance upon the tip of the tongue. It does require a little technique, an awareness of what general flavors work well together, a willingness to learn, and a dash of patience. Sometimes one even discovers an easier, yet tastier, way of doing things.

Example: For years, Ma would mince onions before sautéing, which can be a hassle. But from Laura Calder (French Food at Home), not even one of her usual quotable television chefs, she learned that simply slicing the onions thinly—into half-moons—results in a different, yet heavenly result. 

Via ohmyveggies.com

She also found out that by mixing a serious spoonful of paprika (regular and smoked) into the oil gives her staple paprikás fabulous flavor. 

Ma is a fan of shortcuts; it could be said, even, that she often cheats. But her cheats results in succulent, yet nourishing, meals.