Dev Friedlander's Blog

Let's Get Moving!

Shortly after the 1996 Olympic games which were held in my hometown, Atlanta, I had an illusion that I too, could achieve athletic grandeur. I wanted to become an Olympic champion. I began my dream by trying out a gymnastics camp for a week. When I failed to do a cartwheel on the balance beam, I moved on to ice skating, then field hockey. I fell short in each one of these sports, my grandiose dream slipping away.

Giving it one last go, I put my efforts into track and field, hoping I had inherited the “speed gene,” from my father. Excited to finally earn my first medal, I signed up for a city-wide race, competing against other girls in the area. I did not come in fifth, or even seventh, but last, dead last. A few months later, I conceded my Olympic dream.

I could not make my legs run fast, nor keep my balance on a beam, or any of the other skills needed to be an Olympic champion. There was a consolation prize, I had gained a stronger body and clearer mind. Movement was fun, even if I didn’t win any medals to hang up on the wall.

I decided to keep training with my father on Sundays for more races. The point was never to win, but to finish, wearing with pride the t-shirts that were handed out at the end. I also went walking with my mother, enjoying the lovely foliage and pretty views that would turn up on the trails. As I got older, I branched out into other forms of fitness such as swimming, cardio, strength training, and yoga. Honestly, I did not care what form of exercise I was doing, so long as I was moving for at least thirty minutes.

My day begins with exercise, no exceptions, except for Shabbat. For those thirty to forty minutes, I unleash my inner athlete. There are days when I am able to push myself to move fast, and days when I can be nothing but slow. Days when I rule my dumbbells and days that they rule me. But for those thirty minutes I am strong, I am fierce and for a short time, completely invincible. And every morning I tell myself, “Let’s get moving.”

Below I interview three fitness experts, Tova Eastman, Chaya Lev, and Sarah Friedlander, about their perspectives and recommendations on how to best stay fit and healthy in our busy modern world.

Reaching Your Fitness Goals

Some Tips from The Experts

Tova Eastman is a personal trainer and a fitness nutritionist specialist. As her family grew along with her personal training business, she found herself with less time than ever to exercise and prep healthy meals. Determined to keep up her level of fitness and health, she started implementing shorter more frequent workouts, meal prep hacks, and instilling deep habits to ensure that she could lead by example and prioritize her health, even as a busy, working mom. Tova is the creator of Ignite Fitness Academy, a 1-1 online coaching program designed to help her clients reach long term health and fitness goals while building a sustainable lifestyle.

What is the best workout moves for staying in shape?

Tova: The best question is, how can I be my healthiest? The answer depends on the fitness goal a person is trying to achieve, but overall, I’d say that there is no one best workout or exercise. You need a balance of strength, cardio and stretching. The aim should be to work your entire body, to create over all fitness. HIIT workouts (high intensity interval training) cover a lot of key fitness components such as enhancing endurance, muscle building, and calorie torching. The key is to move and stay moving, at your own level and pace.

How long is the perfect workout?

Tova: There is no such thing as the “perfect” workout length. It depends on the exercise style and intensity, but seeking perfection is the beginning of most people's downfall. However long a person realistically has for fitness is what they should be focusing on. Build a habit of movement. Fifteen minutes is great if that is what you have. Most of my intense HIIT workout can be completed in thirty minutes or less. The key is to move as much as you can, in the time you have available.

What you are feelings about exercise for weight loss and diet culture?

Tova: Exercise is essential for weight loss, but so is proper nutrition. You need a fusion of both to reach your fitness goals. Diet culture on the other hand is hugely detrimental! Restriction of food groups, deprivation, and yo-yo dieting can lead to malnourishment and disruption in metabolic function. None of which will help a person reach their fitness goals.

Food is not good or bad. What is nourishing for your body? That is what’s important! Part of my lifestyle transformation program, Ignite Fitness Academy, focuses on building a healthy lifestyle by growing a healthy mindset. I coach my clients to take slow, but steady steps, so they can develop and maintain healthy habits for life.

Three Favorite Fitness Tips for Reaching Your Fitness goals-

FOCUS ON WHO YOU WANT TO BECOME. Most people focus on the results they want to get, and this is their downfall. When you set goals, knowing the results you want is important, but those who reach their goals can only stay there, long term, by performing the ACTIONS that are necessary to become the type of person they see themselves being when they reach their goals.

Avoid “Maintenance Mode.” Maintenance in fitness & health, just like in relationships is an illusion. You have to be constantly working on growth or you end up sliding backwards. If you find yourself feeling too comfortable, that's a sign that it’s probably time to take the next small step outside your comfort zone.

Motivation & Accountability – No one is always motivated. Those who reach their goals don’t rely on motivation, but rather, they build deeply ingrained habits and have strong sources of accountability to keep themselves on track when motivation is lacking. Children have teachers, writers have editors, and athletes have coaches. When it comes to building lifelong healthy habits, often working against years’ worth of unhealthy habits, having a coach/mentor to guide you and hold you accountable is often an essential success factor!

To learn more about Tova and her fitness program Ignite Fitness Academy, please visit:

website: https://www.ignitefitnessforwomen.com

Facebook: @ignitefitnessforwomen

Instagram: @ignitefitnessforwomen

Chaya Lev is the creator of Chaya Dance Movement, which focuses on movement as a way of healing. She created the fitness program after an experience with breast cancer and double mastectomy, embarking on an amazing journey to full health of the mind and body through music and dance.

What is the best workout moves for staying in shape?

Chaya: Core based. I believe if your core is strong, then you can do anything! I love ab work and I love using the breath to help keep my clients on target, through tough core exercises and tough times in their lives. The plank is my favorite because you get to connect to the earth, the body, and the breath.

How long is the perfect workout?

Chaya: For me there is no perfect length. However, in order to grow we have to leave room for new things and experiences. That is why I offer 45 minutes to one hour 15-minute sessions.

What you are feelings about exercise for weight loss and diet culture?

Chaya: I think exercise should be something that makes you feel good! I do not believe in diets... look at the first three letters…, (die) no good for me. I much prefer a healthy lifestyle. That is the best way to live.

Three Favorite Fitness Tips for Reaching Your Fitness goals-

1. Stay focused on you.

2. Stay consistent

3. Stay strong and disciplined but don’t be too hard on yourself. Working out should be fun, especially with the right moves and music.

To learning more about Chaya Lev and her fitness program Chaya Dance movement, please visit:

Website: www.chayalev.com

Email. Sukarchum@gmail.com

Instagram: brownsugarjew22

Sarah Friedlander is a certified yoga instructor and wellness coach in Efrat and Gush Etzion, Israel. She has group classes and private clients. Sarah became passionate about the health and wellness benefits of yoga. Her specialty is helping people feel and be their best. She primarily teaches vinyasa yoga, a very mindful and flowy yoga that is accessible to all levels. She also teaches private clients using chair yoga which is great for many with mobility and/or injuries and other concerns.

What are the best workout moves for staying in shape?

Sarah: That is really going to depend on you, your personality, and your goals. There are two questions to ask yourself when determining your best workout:

1. What are your fitness and wellness goals?

2. Do you want strength, mobility, or stamina?

There is also the emotional component, such as mindfulness or self-love. What type of movement do you love? It is worth exploring and trying all different kinds of workouts to find what really inspires. It could be dance, swimming, yoga, kickboxing, martial arts, walking with a friend. Once you find the movement that you love, it will feel much easier to find motivation, space, and time to do it.

How long is the perfect workout?

Sarah: Again, this depends on your fitness and wellness goals, as well as your current fitness level. For example, a brand-new runner might want to begin doing a shorter walk/run/jog before attempting a full 5k. The same goes for yoga. You can start with a beginner’s level workout and work your way up. I find 75 minutes to be optimal for my yoga classes.

My class formula time breakdown as follows:

10 minutes - Breathing and warm up.

40 minutes - Faster-paced part of class with cardio, strength-building, stamina, & balance work.

10 minutes - Cool down yoga poses

10-15 minutes - Restorative yoga, meditation & guided imagery (savasana)

What are your feelings about exercise for weight loss and diet culture?

Sarah: I am so happy that today there is more dialogue about some of the harm that strenuous exercises and diet culture can cause. For far too long, weight loss and diet culture has been extremely toxic and damaging (not to mention, unproductive in the long-term). We need to change our outlook about diet and exercise. We eat and move our body because we love ourselves.

Our diet is our eating lifestyle, and it needs to be sustainable and nourishing. Food nourishes our body by delivering essential nutrients and energy. Likewise, we need to look at movement as nourishing our bodies instead of punishing it by burning calories. Movement and exercise is something that enhances our health, energy, mobility, strength, stamina and more. We do it because we love our bodies and ourselves.

Three Favorite Fitness Tips for Reaching Your Fitness goals-

Do what you love: Life is about pleasure. Make sure you are doing things in your life you genuinely enjoy. Know Yourself, and be honest of where you are at: What is going to keep you accountable? It doesn’t matter how cheap/free and convenient something is if you aren’t doing it! So, what do you need to reach your goals? A workout buddy or accountability partner? Signing up for a weekly class? Hiring a private yoga instructor or personal trainer? An investment in your health and wellness is the best investment you can make. Make yourself a priority: Your health and wellness matter because, you matter . When you have good health and wellness, so much in life is easier and more enjoyable.

To learning more about Sarah Friedlander and her Yoga and Wellness program, please visit:

Website: www. sarah-friedlander.com

Email: sfriedlander84@gmail.com

Facebook: @SarahFriedlanderYoga

Instagram: @sarahfriedlanderyoga

Phone: (IL) 0504278648

Stay

A couple of weeks ago, we began the process of moving apartments. And even though the move was literally only a distance of two blocks, moving is a pain, plain and simple. There is the packing, repacking, stacking, carrying, schlepping, and the inevitable sound of cracking, which is accompanied by nagging, “was that my box you dropped?!” Besides the pain and strain, moving can cause emotional turmoil for the family.

To help minimize the stress, a relative of mine, who also happens to be my favorite child psychologist, gifted me a book called “Big Ernie’s New Home.” This book came in handy when one of my ‘children’ broke down during the move. I’m actually referring to our beloved orange and white Maine Coon, Fluffy.

Fluffy has been a member of our family for over a year. He chose us as his owners one sunny afternoon when he refused to leave our backyard. He swaggered right through the porch door and into our living room making himself comfortable on the couch, letting out a contented, “purr, purr, purr.” We took the cat to the vet, had him vaccinated, and treated him for fleas and ticks. He has been our Fluffy, ever since.

When we recently needed to move from our ground-floor apartment to a third floor, we knew there would be some challenges for Fluffy. While we were getting an extra room for one of our real children, we would be losing the backyard, and subsequently the easy access our furry buddy had enjoyed to the outside world. Leaving Fluffy behind was out of the question, he had come to depend on us, and us on him.

So, with a prayer and lots of tuna, we put him in his travel box and drove him down the street to his new home. The dislike of the new place was instant. He rushed about, searching for a cracked window or open door, moaning the whole while for us to let him out. He continued to scurry and moan, scurry and moan, clearly miserable, missing his familiar surroundings and free access to the street. He seemed to scream at us, “take me back, take me back!”

In an effort to make our cat more comfortable, I got out the book, “Big Ernie’s New Home,” which not only detailed how to help children adjust to new places but cats as well. The authors gave these four tips.

1. Introduce the cat to his new environment slowly. (too late)

2. Make sure to give your cat lots of love and attention. (we already do that, constantly)

3. Make them a spot by the window so they can see the outside. (make my sofa a cat throne, never!)

4. Consider taking them on walks. (Are you kidding me?!!)

The first suggestion we had botched, allowing Fluffy free access to the whole apartment from the beginning. The second suggestion we already did, giving our Fluffy, lots and lots of pets. Begrudgingly, I followed suggestion number three, setting up his cat throne on my leather sofa by the window, providing him an extensive view of our beautiful city. Yet the moaning continued, at night, in the morning, in the later morning, in the afternoon, before bed, in the middle of the night, and early again the next day.

Trying dreaded suggestion number four, my husband bought Fluffy a harness and leash. Fastening a harness around a cat’s middle felt a lot like doing ab crunches. There was moaning, hissing, and angry declarations like, “this is the last time I will put myself through this!”

When the leash was fastened, I led Fluffy to the front door. My youngest joined the fun, carrying her phone and some yummy protein just in case things didn’t end well. The walk started off okay. Fluffy seemed to enjoy sniffing leaves and chewing the fallen twigs on the walkway. He climbed under bushes and rubbed against tree trunks, purring with contentment. As stars began to replace the purple sky, my daughter and I felt it was time to head home.

Gently, I tugged on Fluffy’s leash. He resisted. I yanked on the harness, he stayed put. The push and pull continued until Fluffy managed to slip out of the harness. I scooped him up, he jumped out of my arms. Round and round we chased the orange and white tail as it zoomed in and out of bushes. We promised him all kinds of treats, tuna, chicken, yogurt, even restaurant-style beef hot dogs. The food bribes were rebuffed. Then Fluffy scaled a tall fence, threatening to retreat into a stranger’s yard.

My daughter called my husband, shouting franticly into the receiver, “Fluffy’s escaping!”

My husband dashed downstairs and up the walkway, Fluffy’s cat carrier in his hands. He called, “Fluffy, here boy, boy.” Fluffy leaped down from the stranger’s fence and climbed up a small wall surrounding the walkway. We cornered our furry buddy on one side of the parapet, with my husband on the other. Fluffy leaped forward and I grabbed him around the middle as my husband opened the cat carrier. Together, we cajoled him inside. When the four of us returned to the apartment, Fluffy stuck up his nose at us and plopped down on his throne by the window. Plop, went my heart down beside him.

I opened a can of tuna and placed it next to the couch. He gave a firm meow, shifting his head away from the tuna, rebuffing my peace offering. That night, my family and I talked about setting Fluffy free into the wild, but even the thought left us choked up. He was our family member, our comfort, our buddy, our Fluffy. We decided we would not let him go, for his own sake. He was not a street cat and could not survive on his own in a new territory.

A week after the “leash incident,” I’m happy to say that Fluffy is doing much better. He no longer moans that pitiful cry day and night, and he seems content with his throne, at the top of my favorite couch watching the happenings of the park below. We still give him lots of love and affection and tuna and chicken treats.

We tell him over and over again, that we are glad he is happy now, and moreover, we are glad he has decided to stay.

She Did It

“Who left this mess?!” I scream from the doorway of the bathroom. At 7:15 in the morning, the place looks like it’s already been visited by every child in the neighborhood. The bathtub is full of water, the floor is littered with wet towels and the sink looks like it’s forming a toothpaste bog. The half-drunk, stone-cold cocoa that my daughter swore she brought to the kitchen counter, teeters on the edge of the sink waiting for just the right moment to splatter onto the floor.

“Girls!” I shout.

All three of my children form a semi-circle around the doorway. They follow my gaze inside the bathroom. I fold my arms into a tight bow across my torso, “well?!”

In unison they point to one another, “she did it!”

I sigh, “which she, did what?”

Silence.

“Come on,” I prod.

The bickering begins.

“She’s the one who left the towels on the floor.”

“Well, you are the one who decided to paint the sink in toothpaste.”

“I didn’t do anything Mommy, make them clean up!”

Grumbling, I declare, “this is the last time I am cleaning up after you all!” I gather the wet towels into my arms and place them into the washing machine. My cat blinks at me from the pile of clean laundry left on the floor from when one of my daughters helped me change over the wash. He yawns at me and places his head down on a sock.

Fluffy is right to doubt my threat. This is not the first time I have made such a declaration. I’ve declared a cleaning strike almost every time they leave a trail of unclaimed destruction in their wake. And my girls do clean up, each in their own way.

I have one daughter who always cleans when she is told to but disappears before the job is done. Another tells me, “I’ll clean later Mommy,” though now is when I need help the most. And the third daughter cleans the room from top to bottom, without a word of complaint when and only when, the mood strikes her. None of these three cleaning styles has ever worked for me, so I consulted the great mother of sages, the internet.

“Promise a reward,” is the first suggestion I read. I think about all those sticker charts and trips to the ice cream store that resulted in exactly one day of clean living. Next!

“Make it a game,” was the next suggestion. That had some merit, who doesn’t love a fun game? So, I set the timer for fifteen minutes and declare: “Whoever has cleaned the most by the time the buzzer goes off wins, ready set go.”

The girls scatter from the room. They’re really getting into it, I think, while I’m washing the dishes. The buzzer goes off and I glance around the room. Shoes are still on the floor, dishes are still on the table, and a candy wrapper sticks out its tongue at me from the couch.

“Nobody wins,” I shout.

“Nobody cares,” The silence seems to shout back.

And that is the problem. In my children’s eyes, a clean house is my problem, not theirs. If they had it their way, their bathroom would be littered with dirty laundry, dishes would stay dirty in the sink, and shoes would stay scattered over the floor, waiting to be tripped on.

Seeing that the great internet Mommy expert’s ideas weren’t going to help me motivate my crew, I came up with my own system. I decided that I would give out allowance once a month, for any child willing to do the chores I tell them. Anyone who refuses or argues loses that month’s wages. I have to say, for a few shekels a month, my house has never been cleaner.

Call it a bribe, reward, business plan, or internship for the future it is, by far and away, the only thing that I have found that works for us. I tell my girls to pick up their towels, and they pick up their towels. I tell them to wash the dishes, and they wash the dishes. I tell them to tidy the toys in their room, and they tidy up. On special occasions, I find them cleaning their things themselves, which I reward with a song and dance, until they yell at me, “Mommy, stop please.”

There is still plenty of finger-pointing and whining, and very sadly, the constant bog of toothpaste I still find in the sink every morning. But at the end of each month when I call out, “who did their chores?”

They line up in front of me and say in unison, “We all did, Mommy.”

I smile and hand them their allowance. It is the answer I have waited for all along.

Hello Healthy

A few months after the birth of my third child, I felt constantly exhausted. Even a good night’s sleep couldn’t cure the fatigue. When my doctor told me that the condition was likely the result of higher-than-normal blood sugar levels, I sank down into the proverbial pit of despair.

The gestational diabetes I had during my pregnancy was supposed to have vanished with the birth of my daughter, or so I had thought. Why was it sticking around? I had followed all the rules when I was pregnant. I refrained from excess sugar, exercised regularly, filled out the blood sugar charts, and took my vitamins. The advice the doctor gave me was ambiguous. “Just learn to manage your sugar levels and you will be fine.”

“But How?!” I asked.

The doctor told me to go to a website for Pre-diabetics. The recommendations on the various websites were just as ambiguous, with tag lines such as, eat healthy carbohydrates, make a workout schedule, and get your blood sugar levels checked regularly. Which carbs, I wanted to know, how much exercise? It all felt so overwhelming. While sifting through the heap of health information, I was also feverishly taking care of three young children, and in the process of moving to Israel. Needless to say, my health concerns got packed away and forgotten amongst the bustle of the move and adjusting to a new life in a foreign country.

We were greeted with an intense heatwave upon arrival in Israel. Subsequently, the last thing I was in the mood for was grabbing some free weights for a hard-core sweat session. What was worse, our downstairs neighbors rang the doorbell every time we ramped up the noise level louder than a humming fridge. If we failed to, “keep it down,” they would pay us a personal visit. They visited us often, so I became afraid to move, let alone do a proper workout.

So, I did what I needed to do to cope: Slept excessively, binge-watched, and stuffed my face with whatever takeout food I and my family agreed on for dinner. My weight increased, I was permanently exhausted, and I began to fear that my blood sugar would remain high, perhaps for the rest of my life. Little did I know, the start of my health journey was right around the corner. It began in the most unusual way, at a restaurant.

I passed up dessert. Not intentionally. Dessert had been ordered while I had taken one of my girls to use the bathroom. When I returned, I saw the remains of cheesecake on everyone’s plate, except for mine. A few mumbles of apology were made, but my feelings were hurt. A few weeks later, these same friends invited us to their home for dinner. When they offered me a piece of cake, I stuck up my nose and refused it.

A small voice spoke inside me. If you can refuse dessert out of spite, surely, you can refuse it for the sake of your own health! It was the slap I needed to change my ways. I spent the rest of the year, politely refusing dessert, not out of spite, but for the sake of my own wellbeing. The result? My blood sugar began to come down. While cutting out dessert was a good start, I knew there was more to a balanced diet and I was determined to find it.

As luck would have it, I met Debra Waldoks on the first day of Ulpan. I learned that we lived in the same neighborhood and that our children were of similar ages and even in the same classes at school. Then I noticed her delicious snack, a buckwheat salad with sliced tomatoes, fresh dill, and oven-roasted sweet potatoes. “I want some,” I joked, but my mouth was practically salivating over the sight of her food.

The next day she brought me a container of homemade food. It was scrumptious. That’s when I learned that not only was Debra a good cook, but also a registered dietitian. I wanted the wonderful surge of natural energy I was feeling to continue, so I set up a consultation.

Debra helped guide me away from foods with shallow health claims, such as sugar stuffed cereal bars, low-fat candies, cakes, and my personal bugaboo, diet drinks. Instead, she taught me how to make delicious recipes out of lean protein, healthy fats, fruits, vegetables, nuts, and legumes. One of my favorite quotes from Debra is, “count nutrients, not calories.” And that is what I have been doing ever since.

A few years later, after I had found a healthy balance in my diet, it was time to incorporate fitness. My luck struck again when I met Sabrina Perl at a mutual friend for Shabbat lunch. I loved her holistic approach to diet and exercise and booked a session.

Sabrina worked with me to reach my fitness goals. Her mantra was, “fitness is something you need to enjoy, not dread.” I stopped doing workouts I found tedious, such as Zumba, and tried instead a combination of aerobics and strength training. The muscles began to build and build.

Sabrina also showed me a more nutritious way of sweetening my food, by using fruit. Now I add apple slices to meatballs, chopped dates to my yogurt, and dried cranberries to squash. It satisfies the craving for something sweet while being super delicious.

Good fortune, or should I say, divine providence struck again when my husband’s cousin, Justine Friedman, joined our family in celebrating our daughter’s Bat mitzvah. While we chatted and danced, I learned that she had practiced as a clinical dietician in South Africa and was looking forward to doing so again in Israel.

We saw each other again during a much more sober family gathering when she came to pay her condolences after the loss of my father-in-law. Generously, she asked me if there was anything she could do to help us. I thought of all the food I was consuming from the delicious meals people were bringing over. I blurted out, “can you help me navigate all this food?” She chuckled, “it’s a common struggle.”

Last month I saw she was giving a lecture on how food can nourish our spiritual side. Eager to learn more, I joined one of her zoom lectures on Tu B’Shevat, the Jewish New Year for the Trees. Justine spoke about the word Tam, which is Hebrew for ‘taste’. The letters of tam can also be an acronym for Tov=good A'rev=sweet Mo'il=beneficial. She advised us to pause before eating to gaze at the colors and textures of the food and feel a sense of gratitude to G-d who has provided all the resources for this nourishment.

This concept struck me. I’m used to wolfing down my dinner and diving in for seconds. I knew that the nourishment from food should be used for something meaningful, but I never saw it as a spiritual act in and of itself. After hearing Justine’s talk, I realized I was missing out on the spiritual side of eating.

So, the next day, I decided to eat more mindfully. I made a breakfast of yogurt topped with nuts, a few date slices, topped off with a sprinkling of cinnamon. I took my breakfast to the table and placed it in front of me. I studied the shape of the almonds and inhaled the sweet scent of dried fruit. After saying a blessing, I slowly ate my breakfast, savoring every bite. As I chewed, I thought of how grateful I was to have the food and said an after blessing with as much concentration as I could manage. The results? I have never felt fuller.

My journey hasn’t been a straight path. I’ve taken some detours, walked some dark alleys, made a few U-turns, and eventually found my way. There are three lessons I have learned about my health that are indisputable. I must eat well, exercise regularly, and be mindful when I sit down to enjoy a meal. Wishing you the best of health.

Health Tips from the Professionals

Debra Waldoks: MPH, RDN- Whole food nutrition with a mind + body approach. Specializing in pre-diabetes, cholesterol management, mindful eating, women's health.

If you are looking to get healthier, do not start a diet! Instead, start a journey. See how it feels to eat healthier, nourishing foods, to eat with more mindfulness, and to move your body in ways that bring more joy into your life.

To begin your journey to good health you must:

A. Not undereat or restrict entire food categories (those 2 things are what define a diet)

B. Make sure you are comfortable and satisfied after meals and snacks.

C. Move your body every day in ways that feel good to you- such as walking, biking, short workouts, etc.

Practical tips

1. Eat more plant-based foods than animal-based foods.

2. Eat fewer processed foods.

3. Mindfully choose what and how to eat.

4. Allow for some "fun food" occasionally.

5. Honor your body by giving it the right amount of energy that it needs.

Please know that you cannot maintain weight loss by quick diet gimmicks. You will lose weight in the short term, but it is nearly guaranteed to result in yo-yo dieting, binge-eating, and/or weight cycling. So always ask yourself, "can I do this forever?" If the answer is no, rethink the health plan and try something you find more manageable.

Debra Waldoks is a Registered Dietitian Nutritionist with 15 years of experience in public health, nutrition counseling, and higher education. She currently works in Israel, both as an adjunct lecturer at Hebrew University and in private practice in Modiin (& via telehealth) as a nutrition counselor.

To learn more about Debra’s practice please visit:

Website- https://checkboxhealth.com

Email- debra@checkboxhealth.com

Facebook- @DebraWaldoksRDN

Instagram- @CheckBoxHealth

Sabrina Perl: personal trainer, women’s fitness specialist, nutrition consultant.

Consistency is key! Start slowly by adding in one healthy habit at a time instead of focusing on breaking bad habits. Like, sleep one more hour a day, or walk to school to pick up your children. Small changes can make a big difference in the long run.

Practical tips

1. Fitness is not one size fits: and is definitely not all or nothing. Doing too much intensity to start with, can lead to injury. Do what you can, as much as you can, and then add more in when you are stronger.

2. Drink lots of water. (Coffee doesn’t count!) So many people get cravings or feel the afternoon slump because they aren’t drinking enough water. Eight cups of water are the minimum. Most need 10-14 cups a day.

Sabrina Perl is an experienced personal trainer and nutrition consultant with a demonstrated history of working in the health wellness and fitness industry. She has professional skills in coaching, menu development, group classes, cooking, and stress management.

To learn more about Sabrina’s practice please visit:

Website- https://www.healthybysabrina.com.

Email- healthybysabrina@gmail.com

Facebook- @healthybysabrina

Instagram-@healthybysabrina

Justine Friedman -Clinical Dietitian and Mindset Mentor

All things that benefit us, such as goodness, sweetness are from G-d. When we activate the realm of spirituality through our physical acts and with proper intention, discipline, and perspective, it opens up a channel for us to allow for expansion into the spiritual realm. Allowing us to embrace the pleasurable world of physicality as G-D intended for us to experience it.

Practical tips

1. Sit down while you eat: Look at the colors and textures, smell the delicious aromas, savor the flavors and tastes.

2. Check in with yourself as you eat: Place down your fork from time to time and evaluate, am I full? If you are, stop and save (if possible) all leftovers for a different meal. Note- it is not a commandment to finished leftovers on your plate (or your children’s ) if you are full.

3. Take time while you eat to apricated all G-d has given you: G-d wants us to enjoy life and the things He has created. Taking the time to be mindful of all the blessings we have in life will not only help us be more grateful, but it will also aid in feeling full and satisfied with our meal.

Justine specializes in designing an individualized lifestyle plan for each client based on their nutritional needs and outlines practical tools for optimizing health not only through food choices but in how clients think and feel about food and their bodies. She has over 20 years’ experience as a clinical dietician and is passionate about achieving health for all her clients.

To learn more about Justine’s practice please contact her at:

healthydiet7@gmail.com

On Facebook -Clinical Dietician and mindset mentor

Instagram @justinefriedman

Healthy snacks ideas from Dev:

Dried fruit with a handful of nuts

Freshly made popcorn

Sweet potato fries

Plain yogurt and chopped dates

Roasted chickpeas

Sliced vegetables with hummus

Cottage cheese with fruit and cinnamon

Dark chocolate with hot tea or coffee

Cherry tomatoes and a wedge of cheese

Hard-boiled eggs

Edamame sprinkled with sea salt

Tuna and whole grain bread

Apple chips

Roasted cauliflower florets

Baked potato topped with cooked spinach and fetta cheese

Baked apple with raisins

Eggplant Pizza (Eggplant top with tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese) Cook in oven for about fifteen minutes and voila.

Frozen Bananas

Whitefish salad on top of cucumbers

Spiced nuts

Peppers stuffed with goat cheese

Canned beans salad, (canned corn, kidney beans, and black beans) add a dash of olive oil, salt, and apple cider vinegar.

Scrambled eggs with a side of kasha

Oatmeal sprinkled with walnuts and honey

Easy Sushi roll (Lettuce leaves rolled with smoked salmon and cream cheese)

The Truth Found Her

Dr. Bellow jerked her head around and hollered over the drone of the engines, “when we land, go straight to baggage claim. As soon as you get your luggage, go out the sliding doors to where the minibus will take us to the Limpopo Province.”

Sage nodded her head in compliance along with the other five members of the group, although in truth she hadn’t the slightest clue where to go. The bray of the landing gear being lowered filled her ears as the captain turned on the fasten seatbelt sign announcing their descent into Polokwane airport.

From her view out of the window, the marshes and patches of grassland began to come into focus. She wondered what lurked behind the bushwillow and the Lala palm trees. Perhaps a lion, or impala or a spotted hyena. Then she noticed her seat partner, shaking in fear beside her.

Sage clasped Amy’s hand, assuring her that they would land safely. “I know the odds of being killed in a plane crash are like one in eleven million. Still, I won’t exhale until my feet are firmly on the ground.”

The plane hit the runway with a thud and came to a fast stop, throwing Sage and Amy forward. Brushing some red hair from her face, Sage grinned. “See, nothing to it? By the way…. would you mind staying with me while we get our bags? I didn’t quite follow all of Dr. Bellow’s instructions.”

“Sure,” Amy heaved, still clutching the armrest.

The airport was surprisingly easy to navigate. The terminal contained exactly one baggage claim area to retrieve their luggage from. When everyone had their bags, Sage, Amy, and the rest of the members left through the sliding doors and climbed into the minibus, which headed north to the Limpopo providence. Overall, a much easier process than anticipated.

When Sage was seated and buckled up, she turned on her phone. The first new message was from her sister, Chelsey.

“Save the date!”

Mark and Chelsey’s Wedding

Valentine’s Day.

Sage scowled, clicking the X at the top of the screen.

“Bad news?” Amy asked.

“My sister is getting married,” Sage replied.

“You don’t like the guy?”

“I like him fine.”

“Then what is it?”

Sage twisted the gold stud in her ear while recalling the reason for her own heartache. Her ex-boyfriend, Logan, couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t switch from Harvard to be closer to his base in San Diego. He called her inflexibility and make the move, “snobbish.” But what she said next she regretted instantly: “So I should give up my spot in an ivy league university so my loser boyfriend can keep paddling rafts in the Pacific?”

Logan had left the house calmly, though Sage wished he had slammed the door or put up more of a fight. After an excruciating week of silence, Logan sent her an email saying he wished her well and didn’t think things would work out. Now, seeing Chelsey besotted with her prince amplified her own heartache.

The group was dropped off at a ranch house in a rural part of the province. Sage found her name posted on the door at the end of the narrow hall, Amy’s name listed beneath hers. The small bedroom had two cots, and an old wooden armoire that seemed decades older than both of them combined. Amy laid her bag on one of the bare mattresses and Sage laid her bag down on the other. The communal bathroom was across the hall.

Sage washed her face in a rusted sink, her complexion dulled from the taxing series of flights, a mist of red frizz protruding from her head. She flattened it down with her fingers, wondering if it would be rude to hog the one and only bathroom to take a shower. Then she noticed her left earlobe was bare. She bent down to the ground, patting the floor over and over.

“Lose something?” Amy asked behind her.

Sage pointed to her empty earlobe, “my earring.”

Amy joined the search. Together they patted the dusty floor, but no earring was found. Sage searched the bathroom while Amy walked up and down the narrow hall. More members of the group joined in, checking the living room, kitchen, and porch. No earring emerged.

“Check outside,” Amy offered. “Maybe it fell off why you were carrying in your bag.”

Grabbing her coat, Sage headed to the front steps. She got on her knees and crawled around in the thorny grass. A gust of wind picked up her hair and threw it over her shoulders. July was sure warmer in the northern hemisphere. Her eyes and hands continued searching the ground, waiting for the familiar gleam to leap up at her.

Ready to quit the search, Sage threw her hands up in frustration, “could you at least give me a moment of peace, world? Just a moment, that’s all I ask.” Something poked her neck. She moved her fingers around the hood of her coat till they pinched the small stud earring.

Heaving a sigh of relief, she placed the earring tightly in her hand. The sound of panting met her ears. Sage moved her gaze around the grass until they landed on the crooked grin of a spotted hyena.

Her mind began throwing commands. “Run, stay, no run, stay, find a stick, bigger, BIGGER!”

The hyena moved closer. Sage threw the twig down and turned to sprint away.

“Stay still my child.”

Sage froze.

“Spread out your arms.”

Sage spread out her arms.

“Now, roar like an angry lion.”

Sage opened her mouth and yelled at the hyena, “roar, roar, roar.”

The hyena ran into the grass and sage nearly collapsed in relief. Then she turned to meet her savior. A tall woman in a flowing kaftan stepped forward, “Shikamoo,” she said in greeting, “I’m Sabella.”

“Thank you,” Sage gasped. “Without your help, I would have been minced meat. I thought hyenas only came out at night and hunted in packs. Why was it so close to the house? Was it rabid? Could I get rabies?”

“Give me your hand my child.”

“What?” Sage asked, confused.

“Your hand, please.”

Slowly, Sage stretched out her hand and placed it in Sebella’s withered palm. Sebella closed her eyes and began to speak. “I feel a presence on you, I can almost hear the person’s thoughts, perhaps you are wearing something they have given you?”

With shaking hands, Sage handed her the gold stud earring. Sebella’s hands clasped around the small piece of jewelry. “I see a warrior, a man who has fought in many battles. He is strong, like a lion, but his soul is kind. He risks his life for others and mourns the lives of every soul he has taken, even when he knows he had no other choice.”

Sage couldn’t believe what she was hearing, how could Sebella know this? She knew nothing about Logan or the fact that he was in special forces. Without thinking she blurted out, “does he still love me?”

“Yes,” Sebella said simply. “And while you wear the earrings, he will not be able to forget you.”

“Will he ever forgive me?” Sage pleaded. “It was one stupid comment. I didn’t mean it; I was scared, and it came out. He will come back to me, right?!”

Sabella sighed. “One word, one bullet. Sometimes we do not get a second chance.”

Sage felt her heart quiver. The few pieces she had carefully put back together, were now scattered on the ground once more.

“Sage, Sage!” Amy called from the porch.

“Coming,” Sage called.

Sabella bowed her head, “good luck, my child.”

“Wait,” Sage pleaded. She fished around her jean pockets for some loose change. When she looked up, the woman was gone.

“Never leave the house without telling me where you’re going,” Dr. Billow wagged a finger at her. “These parts contain many dangerous things; I know you are an adult but it’s my job to see that you are safe. Stay close to the house unless you are with a guide, understand?”

Sage nodded, and they went back inside. The rest of the afternoon was spent unpacking and getting to know the other members. Dinner was boiled hotdogs with freshly made bread, sliced vegetables, and fruit. A few of the members asked about the spotted hyena encounter.

The more Sage told over the events, the more she thought Sebella was a celestial being. Though, regarding the hyena, Dr. Billow gave the group the same advice Sebella had, almost verbatim. “If you come across another hyena, stand tall, place your arms out and scream. Never ever run, it will chase you.”

That night, as she lay in bed, Sage’s thumb rubbed over her phone screen, and her finger pressed on Logan’s profile picture. He was standing on the edge of a cliff, deep valley ridges all around him. The beauty of the natural canyons were competing with the outline of his tight t-shirt.

Sage ached to tell him about her adventures. He would surely be proud of how she scared away the hyena. Her thumb hit the call button. “Noo,” she cried, desperately trying to end the call before he picked up. It was too late.

“Hello?” She heard him say at the other end.

What was she going to say to him? ‘Hey Logan, I was just staring at your profile picture a little too fervently, and whoops…those clumsy fingers of mine!’ She glanced over at Amy snoring in her cot.

“Sage?”

“Sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to call you; it was sort of a pocket dial… how are you?”

“Good, just on a few minutes break before heading off to more training. How is your summer going?”

“It’s freezing,” said Sage. “I’ve discovered that winter on every continent is chilly, even in South Africa.”

“Wow, what are you doing there?”

“I’m on a humanitarian program. My first shift at the hospital starts tomorrow.”

“And the Ritz doesn’t have heat?”

There it was again, the judgment and disdain. Privileged rich Sage, getting the best of everything if he only knew what her accommodations were really like. Keeping her voice steady she replied.

“I’ll have you know that the cot I’m sleeping on is about as thin as a fast-food burger bun, there is no toilet seat lid in the bathroom and guess what, I’m still excited about the work because the people I’ve met are brave and kind and wonderful, and experience is a much better teacher than any stuffy classroom.”

There was a pause and Sage knew if she didn’t come up with something in the next few seconds the conversation was over, perhaps between them, forever. “So, how’s your summer going?”

“Busy. We ship off in a couple of days,” said Logan. “I begged for a day off to spend time with my girlfriend. It was granted. We are heading off to a campsite tonight near the San Diego Bay.”

Sage slumped deeper into her pillow, tears running down her cheeks. Her daydream of Logan returning to her, gone. Sabella’s words repeated in her mind. ‘One word, one bullet. Sometimes we do not get a second chance.’

But that couldn’t be right, every day was a new beginning. With her last seed of hope, she said. “I’m thinking of doing a residency in San Diego. One of the top oncologists recently opened his practice to residency students.”

“Well,” said Logan, “if you are ever in town, give me a ring.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and Sage.”

“Yeah?”

“They are lucky to have you.”

Sage ended the call by sending regards to all his family. Her heart was in better shape than she expected. Leaning back on the cot, she thought about her day. The spotted hyena, Sebella’s prophetic words, and imagining what Logan’s new girlfriend looked like. Let him have his fun with someone else. Their bond was stronger, so strong that Sebella could feel its

power.

Maybe one day she and Logan would meet and all that was there would reignite, or maybe it would dissolve like the gel in her hair. Either way, the truth would surely, eventually, find her.

2 Years...

Recently I marked the second anniversary of my blog, “Swimming Upstream.” When I began, I was sure that it would fizzle within a month. Yet, thanks to my friends, family and loyal followers, my blog is still going strong.

Since my book “You See Me” came out last October, I have had some unexpected victories. I have been asked by a few online publications to submit my work and collaborate with a travel blogger about his trip to Israel. I have also mentored a young student in writing and have written two author’s endorsement quotes. Yet, there have also been some setbacks.

There have been the inevitable bad reviews, a couple of rejections by publications which I had thought I would be a shoe in for, poor sales of my book, the cancellation of a book signing (Corona induced), all while dealing with uncertain times. And sharing a computer with my children during peak writing hours has not helped.

Through the slumps and bumps, I thought of you, my dear readers. Your favorable comments meant more to me than you will ever know! They helped me press forward in my writing, even when finances, and social connections advised me to step back. Then out of the blue, I received the most unexpected surprise, I became a winner of the Purple Dragonfly seal. So, I continue to persevere, and I am currently working on a manuscript that I hope to have ready for submission in the next couple of months.

Some of statistics from the past year include:

Most liked Post: “If I Could, I Would,” 582 Views.

Least liked Post: “Writing Slips” 37 Views.

Number of blogs Written in 2020: 19

505 friends on my author’s page on Facebook.

10,000 connections made on LinkedIn.

3,682 Twitter followers

For 730 days, 102 weeks and twenty-four months you, my wonderful audience, have stuck by me while I have shared my thoughts, opinions, setbacks, and triumphs. Because of your support, I keep on doing what I love. Thank you for joining me on this journey.

Go To Sleep

I used to enjoy night-time, the quiet streets, the closed work folder, and the gentle tug of sleep. Then I had children. Every night became a battle for my pre-children evening routine, for which I have yet to win. What is worse is that the battle can sometimes go on for hours, with surprise ambushes occurring, even after I have managed to go to bed.

I was prepared at the beginning for such battles. All the child experts explained that most infants do not sleep through the night for the first year of life. What I was not prepared for was the second, third, four, fifth, sixth, seventh and even tenth (you read that right, tenth!) years of fighting.

The reason for the battle is simple, I strive for quiet and peace after eight in the evening, and my children wish to stay up and have more fun. The first resistance begins when I demand they hand in their phones to me. “But it’s for school!” They chorus. “You can’t take them yet.”

“School ended at one o’clock,” I tell them. “It is now eight, whatever you are up to, most likely can be dealt with tomorrow. Please go brush your teeth.”

This task is where swords are drawn amongst themselves. I hear shouting from the bathroom.

“I was here first.”

“No, I was here first.”

“Get out!”

“Make me.”

“Ouch…Mommy!”

Stepping into the bathroom I ask wearily, “what is so complicated about brushing teeth, what is the problem!?” Though I know the answer without either of them replying. It’s clear the two of them want the bathroom at the same time and neither one is willing to wait for the other. Trying to settle this dispute for territory, I tell them both to be more considerate of the other. In return I am met with a double eye roll. Succeeding in turning their annoyance; their anger at each other is forgotten. My first victory!

After the toothbrush wars, I proceed to phase two; reading a story with the one I like to call, ‘the indecisive story chooser.’ My instructions to choose a story from the bookshelf are almost never heeded. Why? Because she simply can’t choose. Crouching down, I select four stories I am willing to read and lay them out before her. She marches out, proceeding to select a book from a shelf in a different room. When a book is finally chosen, we cuddle on the bed together and begin reading.

A page in, and I am interrupted by my older daughter, “Mommy, do we have powdered sugar?”

“Not sure, why?”

“Because I am making donuts on zoom tomorrow.”

“I’ll look for you, soon.”

Turning back to the story, I asked, “where were we?” My daughter shrugs and I am forced to start from the top of the page.

After reading a few more pages I am interrupted again, this time by a loud shriek. Rushing towards the shrieking, I find my daughter huddling in the corner, a moth on her pillow.

“Get it away,” she screams. “It will eat my eye lashes while I’m sleeping.”

“No, it won’t.”

“Yes, it will!”

I struggle to contain my own eye roll as I escort the non-eyelash eating insect out of the room. Returning once more to the bedtime story, I manage to read the rest of the book without further interruption. After we recite the nighttime prayer called the Shema I kiss her smooth forehead and give her a hug goodnight. She places a hand over mine, “don’t go, one more squeeze.” How can I resist such a request? So, I give her another hug.

“One more kiss,” she says. I give her another kiss.

“My turn,” She plants her lips on my cheek for what seems likes a whole minute. Finally, she lets go and says goodnight. As I head towards my bedroom, on the cusp of victory; I am ambushed in the hallway by a child I like to call the ‘master procrastinator.’ My plans of a writing for a few minutes in peace are blown to smithereens. The procrastinator informs me that she needs us to make cookie dough since the teacher decided that donuts are too difficult to make over zoom. So, I detour to the kitchen and we make cookie dough at nine in the evening.

When that is finally finished, I lock myself inside my room and whip out my laptop to write down a few thoughts before I lose the inspiration. I write for an hour, savoring the silence. Then I prepare for bed, pull back the covers and lay down in my comfy, cozy bed. As I turn on a podcast to drift off to, I hear my door creep open.

A menacing figure steps in and proclaims, “I can’t sleep.”

“Why?” I ask, my eyes still closed, fully intending to keep them that way.

“Because (a sister who will remain nameless) is singing.”

I jerk awake, “but she is supposed to be asleep.”

“Well, she isn’t.”

I head into the final battle of the evening. Nice mommy has gone, the monster is out now. I march down the hall ordering all the girls to bed. They scamper under their covers where they should have been all along. Then I return to my room, my eyelids now heavy. For a minute I wonder if moths do eat eye lashes, it would explain the pain of my heavy eye lids. Going to sleep is my prize for winning the bedtime battle.

Nighttime is still my favorite part of the day. The streets are quiet, my work folder is closed, and sleep is finally achievable. But the gentle tug of sleep no longer pulls me; rather it dumps me into bed. I’m exhausted from the battles that I reluctantly, although courageously, fought. One day the wars will cease. When, you might ask; the blessed day my children realize their own crucial need for rest.

Befriending Pain

My New Year’s resolutions in the past generally consisted of the same three things; write more, spend less money and to try and be a calmer, more patient parent. Have I made progress in these areas? That depends on what yard stick I measure myself by. Being “more or less” of something left the measurement of my progress too murky. This year, I decided to overhaul my resolution making process completely. I chose instead to go right to the root cause of many of my problems: pain.

To be perfectly honest, I hate pain! I vehemently avoid anything that bites, stings, throbs, or stabs. My aversion to pain isn’t unique. Many people fear pain to the point that it debilitates parts of their lives; keeping them from exercising, seeing the dentist or doctor, start a hobby or even travelling on an airplane. Instead of discussing why most people have a biological and psychological aversion to pain, I choose instead as a writer to look toward the dictionary for the definition.

The Miriam Webster dictionary defines pain as a generalized unpleasant bodily sensation that causes mild to severe physical discomfort and emotional distress. In short, pain is a signal. The question is, how are we supposed to interpret that signal? For example, if my hand gets too close to the stove while cooking, the intense burst of pain from touching the flame is a signal for me to move my hand away. However, if I feel the sharp prick of a needle while getting a flu shot, that is a signal that my body is uncomfortable, but safe. Learning to distinguish between these signals will help me go from a fearful little bird, to free.

In the past, I have let the fear of discomfort stop me from the most basic of tasks such as driving on the highway, flipping fuses in the fuse box when something trips, and having my blood drawn. At the time, my reasoning seemed to be sound. Discomfort meant pain, and pain meant danger in my mind. Avoiding discomfort meant keeping safe, and wasn’t safe the best way to be? Yet I didn’t feel safe at all. In fact, I had never been more scared in my life because these fears had trapped me in another sort of way.

Several years ago, while snug in my bed, I was watching Steve Harvey, an American comedian and television presenter. He said something that I will never forget, “Comfort and success don’t keep the same company, so get up and try, because sitting on the couch isn’t rewarding.”

I wish I could tell you that I jumped up right then and there and began working on my story outline for the next book I wanted to write. Instead, I finished the popcorn I was eating, made some more tea and thought about his words. Slowly, slowly, I began confronting my challenges, but fear remained fully in the driver’s seat. But then about six months ago, Steve Harvey popped back up on my Facebook newsfeed and I knew it was a sign that the time had come for a complete overhaul.

The next morning, I came up with a three-part plan for myself to handle discomforting experiences.

1. Embrace – Accept that the situation is uncomfortable.

2. Resolve – Fight as best you can through the discomfort.

3. Reward - The prize for beating pain.

I put the plan into practice while exercising. During a shoulder press, I felt my muscles begin to fatigue; instead of quitting the exercise, I embraced the pain and then resolved to deal with as much of the burn as I could handle, promising myself a yummy (healthy) snack at the end of the workout as my reward. The result? I happily worked out the very next day knowing I had succeeded the day before.

Wondering if this practice worked with other challenging parts of my day, I tried it again with a confrontation I had with my daughter. As I was making school lunches, my daughter started complaining about scrubbing the four dishes in the sink I’d asked her to wash. She moaned that I gave her too much housework. Feeling the strong pain of irritation pulse through my body, I caught myself before yelling, remembering my three-part approach. I embraced the irritation, resolved myself to stay quiet while my daughter hurled complaints, and thought of the comedy show I’d enjoy as soon as the cleanup was finished. My daughter did the dishes, I finished school lunches, there was no yelling and the sitcom I watched afterwards felt well deserved.

Please don’t misunderstand me, pain shouldn’t be ignored completely. It’s a signal. Sometimes the message is a warning about impending danger and should be heeded. To leave my hand by an open flame is silly, and to ignore health warnings is foolish. Suffering pain for the sake of pain isn’t heroic! But crossing over the bridge of discomfort is about the only road I know that leads to victory.

Months after implementing this approach, pain and discomfort have become a whole lot easier to handle when I know something wonderful awaits me at the end. After a long workout, comes a yummy breakfast, after the tirade of an angry child comes a comedy video and after a rejection letter comes a cappuccino. And sometimes, in rare and wonderful moments, comes success.

The Blessing of A One-Star Review

On March 19th, 2020 it seemed like my world stopped turning. Stores were ordered to shut down, schools closed, and people were told to stay indoors to help end the spread of the contagious, and sometimes deadly Coronavirus (Covid-19). Six months later my world remained stagnant, as we were forced into another lockdown where I live. Every day I run around on what feels like a hamster wheel; a hamster wheel some experts claim we may never find a way to exit.

Yet time isn’t standing still. I have celebrated my 15th wedding anniversary, birthdays, good times, and bad. My kids have kept up their schooling and I have kept on writing. Like a gift from heaven, my book has kept selling. I’ve also had to deal with deadlines, rejection letters, and even my first one-star review.

I received an announcement of the one-star review while in the middle of managing my profile on LinkedIn. The notification bell let me know that I had a new review waiting for me on Goodreads. Eagerly, I opened the link. “Boring and repetitive,” were among the reader’s choice adjectives to describe my book, followed by the low star ranking.

My first instinct was to reach for the tissues. It stung to have my hard work downgraded. After I finished throwing myself a pity party, I searched the web to see if bad reviews were common. My research revealed that nearly every author has readers that disapprove of their work.

A notable book blogger called Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, “boring, the characters unrelatable.” Another reader referred to J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter as “exhausting, disjointed and dated.” Even the bestselling Da Vinci Code and beloved classic Little Women all have people giving the books a thumbs down.

While it was nice to know my misery shared great company, it was also an inverted blessing for me. It meant that my work had traveled beyond the small circle of friends and family and had caught the interest of strangers. A wide audience is what I always had longed for and this one-star review was a confirmation that I had succeeded. I read a saying once that went something like this: “when you open the door for light, many things come through.” This sometimes includes hurtful comments and bad reviews.

There is another benefit to a disappointing review. It reminded me that feelings are temporary. That the failure and despair I felt would go away, and it did. Right after the bad review, a supporter sent me a message, letting me know that they enjoyed my work and not to let the review get me down. Their kind words helped me to get back on my laptop once again, and to begin forming new plot lines and developing characters.

I’d like to take this moment as an opportunity to say thank you to my wonderful supporters! You are the light in my doorway. Your support and encouragement have helped me to keep moving and to keep striving. I hope one day soon, the Coronavirus will be a tragic event that we can look back on and talk about in the past tense. Until then, we must keep reminding ourselves that somehow, someway, this too shall pass.

Relinquishing the Gavel

Lately, repentance is a theme of many of the videos which are appearing in my YouTube subscription list. Between now and the end of Yom Kippur, repentance plays a more prominent part of Jewish thought and prayer. The idea is to pick an area of one’s life that they find they are lacking in, and to do whatever they can to improve. This year I’m working on putting down the gavel.

I find I am much better at spotting the weaknesses of others than seeing them in myself. My judgmental nature became more clear the day I almost lambasted a YouTuber online, who I vehemently disagreed with. I was ready to execute judgment from my bench in the court of public opinion.

Repentance is a theme of many of the videos which are appearing in my YouTube subscriptions recently. Between now and the end of Yom Kippur, repentance plays a more prominent part of Jewish thought and prayer. The idea is to pick an area in one’s life that they find lacking and do whatever they can to improve. This year I’m working on putting down the gavel.

While scrolling through videos about repentance, looking for inspiration for the approaching High Holidays, I came across one titled, “Can Humans Help but Sin?” My interest was piqued, so I clicked on play.

Three seconds in, I realized that this speaker had a mission to make as many people as outraged as possible. He intentionally provoked, preached, and spewed rhetoric that was far from inspirational. I clicked on the comment’s section, ready to make this man feel small. I was all too happy to bang my gavel and declare him, “canceled.” And if I had personally sent this man a letter trying to have a civilized dialogue there could be some justification. However, I had no plans for civility, just mockery. To build my case further, I decided to listen to another one of this man’s talks.

He spewed the same anger and condemnation as the first video I have listened to. Yet, I heard something else this time around, fear. This man had been taught to see the Creator as a vengeful, scary being who was happy to smite him down the moment he slipped in his service. Shame filled me as I recalled a time when I once held those same beliefs. Understanding where he was coming from better now, I felt sympathetic towards him and understood that although I disagreed with everything he said, I could see that he thought that he was trying to help others. I deleted my comment, happy I hadn’t pressed “post.” I also learned something new, that I was too quick in my judgment of this man’s character.

So, from that day, I decided to try and pause before forming a judgment. Already I have had wonderful results. Instead of getting offended by a writer who didn’t return my email, I sent a follow-up. I found out my request accidentally went into the spam folder, and they were grateful I had reached out. Instead of becoming mad at a friend who didn’t return one of my favorite serving dishes, I called them to ask if I could come to pick it up. My friend ended up returning the dish with a treat inside. The best though happened with my youngest daughter.

One night I asked her to stop drawing and to go brush her teeth. I asked her once, she continued to draw, I asked her twice, she continued to draw. Then, instead of yelling and screaming I took a deep breath and placed a hand on her shoulder. Noticing me, she took earbuds out of her ears and said sweetly, “yes mommy?”

I let out a breath, grateful that I had paused. I had not noticed she was wearing the earbuds the whole time. My daughter is hard of hearing, so the earbuds made it impossible for her to have heard me. I said again calmly, “can you please brush your teeth?”

“I brushed my teeth earlier,” she replied, then she handed me a picture of a big heart. I checked her toothbrush and gave a sigh; glad I had decided to pause in my judgment earlier.

Judging favorably doesn’t mean looking the other way when someone does something wrong. It simply means to pause and ask, have I read this situation correctly? A shocking number of times, I have found myself answering, no.

I do hope this speaker finds peace and purpose, so he no longer feels the need to bellow at his audience. And maybe I will find a way to contact him privately and have a productive conversation. I’m grateful that I didn’t start a campaign of hate and even more so, that I have finally learned to put down the gavel.