Oil spills and Ego Boundaries..

I'm spending my days watching endless gallons of oil spill into the sea of blue, creating a marble swirl of thick brown encapsulating parts of untouched waters. They merge together in a meeting iconic of greed and beauty, of simple and complex. Sad looking Pelicans wonder onto the shore, and I'm beginning to think that I never want to drive my car again. It's been happening for weeks, but slowly, even though the gasoline geyser isn't fixed, news have shifted into other directions. Obama doesn't want any more blame for the actions of how the situation is being handled, Joran Van der Sloot killed another innocent woman, and Lindsey Lohan's alcohol monitoring ankle bracelet alarmed yesterday. The world continues to turn, as does the pages of our newspapers.

I have my NCLEX study book open, recalling lab values and answering questions like:
"The nurse knows that the physician is most likely to order which of the following laboratory tests to evaluate a client for hypoxia?"
1) Hematocrit
2) Sputum analysis
3) Arterial Blood gas (ABG) analysis
4) Total hemoglobin.
(the answer is 3, in case you were wondering!)

But instead of being interested as I should be in these matters, I have been ready a book called "The Road Less Traveled: A New Psychology of Love, Traditional Values and Spiritual Growth" by M. Scott Peck M.D. "New" is relative, being that the book was written in 1978. I'm not usually a fan of self help type literature, but maybe it's just the new stuff that is all marshmallow-y. This guy tells it straight up.
He defines love as "The will to extend one's self for the purpose of nurturing one's own or another's spiritual growth". He incorporates dependency, cathexis, self-sacrifice and the giving of attention in attributing to love. But he got me with the "falling in love" chapter: It starts with such a good opener, "No matter whom we fall in love with, we sooner or later fall out of love if the relationship continues long enough", the honeymoon always ends, the bloom of romance always fades..
To understand the phenomenon of falling in love and the inevitability of its ending, it is necessary to examine the nature of what psychiatrists call ego boundaries. From what we can ascertain by indirect evidence, it appears that newborn infants during the first few months of its life does not distinguish between itself and the rest of the universe. As the infant recognizes its will to be on its own and not that of the universe, it begins to make other distinctions between itself and the world.
The essence of the phenomenon of falling in love is a sudden collapse of a section of an individual's ego boundaries, permitting one to merge his or her identity with that of another person. The sudden release of oneself from oneself, the explosive pouring out of oneself into the beloved, and the dramatic surcease of loneliness accompanying this collapse of ego boundaries is experienced by most of us is ecstatic. We and our beloved are one! Loneliness no more!
But then..
"they begin to come to the sickening realization that they are not one with the beloved, that the beloved has and will continue to have their own desires, tastes, prejudices, and timing different than the other's. One by one, gradually, or suddenly, the ego boundaries snap back into place, gradually or suddenly, they fall out of love".
It's not to say that you can't still love that person, but that feeling of being in love for the first time, fades. It's easy to pretend, given what the media perpetuates of love, that it is easy, romantic and free-flowing and will stand by us until death. To those who have lost love, been trampled on by someone that "loved" us, been cheated on, etc. The feeling of falling in love might have been there, but true love was not, or if it was the elements to make it last were not. Love takes dedication, extension of one's self, sacrifice. It's a choice.

Check out M.Scott Peck's other books, "A World Waiting to be Born: Civility Rediscovered" and "The Different Drum: Community Making and Peace"

When I was in 5th Grade I wanted to be Clara Barton. Look at me now!

Two years ago I had no idea what it really meant to be a nurse, I just thought it would be a noble thing to do, as Kurt Vonnegut said about Mary in Slaughter-House Five, "Mary O'Hare is a trained nurse, which is a lovely thing for a woman to be".
I also think it's a lovely thing to be.

So this is the story of a young woman who thought it would be lovely to be a nurse.

I've discovered that it is lovely, and it's frightening, and it can make you cry, and make you laugh, and it is exhausting, and often very disgusting, it's demanding, it's rewarding.
It requires total dedication, enthusiasm, wanting to possess understanding and knowledge of the human body, of the human spirit, the mind, the body, the connection of mind and body. It demands of you compassion, a gentle touch, a warm smile. You must stand up for what you belief is right, maintain your voice, because you are your patient's voice as well.
I've cried with a mother as her baby was entering into the world.
I've been in the operating room, watching pieces of a brain tumor being suctioned out of a middle-aged woman's head, knowing that this is someone's daughter, sister, mother, and hearing the surgeon say that her odds for surviving are minimal.
Days when you feel like there is nothing more you could do to help, and those days when the simplest thing brings the biggest smile to someone's face.
Two years of the hardest work of my life, endless nights of staying up late, poured over stacks of books, the coffee pot continuously on. The moments that have surrounded the academia; my nephew being born, and now he can say my name. The friends I have gained and the ones I have lost. My summer abroad and how that changed me forever. The truest things I have learned about myself, things that have been there all along, but through this, I can now see clearly and distinctively.
I am walking and looking back. I started with uncertainty but with passion, and prevailed. There were stumbling blocks along the way, and times when I wanted to walk back, but I followed the trail that I had envisioned. Now I stand at the end of the bridge, and there is a whole world to discover.

This great evil - where's it come from?

How'd it steal into the world? What seed, what root did it grow from?

Who's doing this?

Who's killing us, robbing us of life and light?

Mocking us with the sight of what we might of known?

Does our ruin benefit the earth, aid the grass to grow and the sun to shine?

Is this darkness in you, too? Have you passed through this night?

-Explosions in the Sky "Have you passed through the Night?"

"Because life isn't fair" the distressed mom whispered into the ear of the boy sitting next to me at the dinner as she breaks off another piece of Matzos. A second before the six year old was asking why his sister got a bigger piece. Somewhat of an appropriate statement for a festive dinner that celebrates the release of bondage and slavery of the Jews. We put our fingers into the grape Manischewitz wine and flick off a drop onto the Seder plate for each of the Makot Mitzrayim ,a representation that with the freedom came horrible destruction and death. You can't have a celebration without remembering the hardships that brought you there. Death of the firstborn, totally not fair. Slavery, really not fair. Swarms of locusts, flies, infliction of boils and lice, that sucks. I hear people say that with religion there is always guilt. You're a sinner and you can never be good enough, every wayward step you take riddles you with fear from the all-mighty. What can't be changed gets put on God. What we don't like about ourselves we also blame on God. When a beautiful thing happens, the birth of a child or a sunset painted so perfectly in the sky only the majestic could have mastered, we thank "him". If you win a Grammy you should thank him also.
Do we feel so small and insignificant in the grand scheme of this Universe, to place it all on God?
I'm getting to a point here. During the Seder as we dropped our wine from the cups, we then proceeded to drop out wine for these plagues:
1) Plague of burdened health care systems: Malaria infection significantly burdens health care systems. In some countries, the disease may account for as much as 40% of public health expenditures
2) Plague of over $12 billion in lost workforce productivity: Malaria debilitates those infected, preventing them from going to work. In Africa, this incapacitation nearly costs $12 billion in lost productivity a year, hindering the economic development of third world countries.
3) Plague of familial burden: Malaria causes human pain and suffering, hampers children's schooling and social development, causes permanent neurological damages and impacts families financial stability.
4) Plague of child death: Malaria is the leading cause of under-five mortality in Africa. Every 30 seconds, a child dies from malarial infection.
5) Plague of indifference to a preventable disease. Malaria is both preventable and treatable. When brought under control, death, heath care burdens and lost productivity can drastically decrease.
What I like about Judaism is that it's viewed as our duty to help those with Malaria, to fight for justices- economic justice, human rights issues, to stop hunger and the effects of disease, to help those in need. Because of not now, when and if not I, then who?
It's not because of religious guilt, but because like our ancestors struggled for freedom, it's our opportunity to help those who struggle.

Because life isn't fair, but we want to make it fair.

www.urj.org/nets

Fighting fires.

He sleeps with a 457 under his companion pillow, well he told me he didn't anymore but I saw him showing it off with the rest of his guns. He still has the line of old telephones lining the wall against where the couch sits. When I was little I didn't realize they were only for show and thought my grandpa must be a very important person to have so many phones and I bet he got so many calls. Not only was he important for the many phones he had but he was a firefighter. I pictured him busting down doors and saving children as flames engulfed him, coming home smelling of smoke, taking off his boots and waiting for one of the lines to ring, to be a hero for another day. The knowledge of him that I severely lacked, I compensated with make believe stories. The one I do remember, and tell often, is when I was 6 or 7, going for a Fire Truck ride in an old vintage engine around the streets of Madison. The bells ringing, riding in the open summer air, like we were the only ones in a special day parade. He was always special to me growing up, but later in life I began to think less of him a hero and more just a retired grandfather.
This past summer I found out he had cancer and I prayed the hero would return. He was going through treatment and didn't want visitors. I was overseas and didn't know what was going on. The updates showed his progress and eventually he began to feel better. I never knew the extent of his sickness until a few days ago, when I finally got the chance to cross state lines to see him. He said he was in the hospital for four weeks. He had a PICC line. A colostomy. Radiation. Weeks and weeks of nausea, vomiting. Extreme weight loss. As a nurse, I can picture all of this, I know how sick he means when he says sick. At one point, he was almost sure he was going to die. But he said he came to terms at that point that he had lived a good life. He has done what he wanted to do. Had good memories. He did his best to overcome.
He is telling me this over coffee at a Greek diner down the street from my hotel. I look at him and see the hero, emerging from the fire.

Lately.

I read about the Gulabi gang in Bust Magazine the other day. They are a group of women in India who consider themselves vigilantes who take direct action against violence and injustices not just against women but the disadvantaged citizens of local towns and villages in India. Read about them..http://www.gulabigang.org/index.html

Just watched "Wristcutters: A Love Story"after a classmate mentioned that Tom Waits is in it. To add to my delight I find out that it is based on a book (Knellers Happy Campers) by one of my favorite Israeli authors, Etgar Keret. It was amazing and I would really recommend watching it.

http://shemspeed.com/store.php : Nice tunes
http://www.brooklynindustries.com : Nice shirts

XO

Choosing the Chosen, Chapter 1

As I am getting ready in the bathroom this morning I begin to say the Shema. I close my eyes and think of Jerusalem. Throughout the day the song that I remember from Friday night service that goes with the T’filah goes through my head “nanananana Adonai/nanananana s’fatai tiftach/nanananana u’fi yagid/u’fi yagid t’hilatecha”. I begin to laugh as I think of where this all came from, when did I memorize the Shema? See, I am not Jewish.
I am becoming Jewish.
When this comes out from my mouth, I am most often met with a “huh??”, or often another frequent three letter word, “why?”. One of my favorite response: “You can do that?”
A women at Hillel where I live said, “I’m always curious about converts, because this is such a hard religion, it’s a lot to take on”. She couldn’t put it in better terms.
It has been a two year process, this converting business. The journey has paralleled other profound events in my life. I guess I could say the events in my life have propelled my search for truth and for God. Events that landed me in my bathroom, in the morning, saying the Shema*

*Sh'ma Yis'ra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad.
"Hear, Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One"

Life as a Nursing Student..

My patient today spoke Spanish only. I know hardly any Spanish.
"Como estas?" (emphasising the question mark not because its a question but because I'm sure Im screwing up the simplest phrase almost everyone knows)
She smiles and waves her hand back and forth.
I palpate her abdomen and she winches. I glance at my notebook that I conveniently wrote down a few words.
"dolor?"
"si"
I'm wishing I had paid attention to Dora the Explorer some more, surely my niece would know more Spanish than me. As she is speaking Spanish to me, I keep thinking of the response in Hebrew because that is the only other language I know. I almost respond "ani lo mayveena" (I do not understand) this will not help.
"Gracias" I say as I finish the exam
"Thank you.." She says very proudly
I smile and nod.
Time to learn some Spanish!

My favorite Sandwich..

Haloumi (Halumi) cheese

Cream Cheese

Pickles

Tomato

Lettuce=

Delicious

I had this sandwich for the first time at Israel's famous espresso bar Aroma. It tastes especially good with an ice Aroma, which is a whole different great thing. I've been making these sandwiches since I've been back and have had request about the making of them, so its simple here it is..

You will need these things. The cheese is imported from Cyprus, check your local markets (and Meijer also carries it)

Get everything ready: 2 slices tomato, lettuce to cover bread slices, 2 kosher dill slices (I put on a cloth to get extra juices out) and some cream cheese in a little dish. Slice the Haloumi cheese (it breaks easily so be careful), slice about 1/4 inch.

Put a splash of olive oil in a hot pan, put the cheese in and let it grill about 45 seconds on each side. It will start to get brown and bubbly. This is good :)

The layering is important. First spread softened cream cheese on wheat bread, lay down the lettuce on top of cream cheese, tomato and pickles (place vertical), then the Haloumi on top also vertically.

Classy and Smart.

Browsing through the bookselves the other day, one in particular caught my eye, "The Scarlet Letter". Looking at the cover I thought maybe it was a remake, like Pride Prejudice and Zombies, but nope it was the original but with a fantastic cover. Artist Ruben Toledo has revamped some classics from Penguin books with beauuuutiful covers!

The Couture Classics have arrived. Daily Candy joins the blog buzz over the new Ruben Toledo-designed Penguin Classics Deluxe Editions of Wuthering Heights, The Scarlet Letter, and Pride and Prejudice. Toledo, an award-winning fashion illustrator, contributes his couture-inspired artwork to Penguin's long history of excellence in book design- Penguin Books