#66 - Jewish Mysticism and a Dating Story

What Arose; Flash Fiction: It Could Have Been Great; Time Machine

Hello, my friends,

Yesterday, there was a little spider hanging on the doorway to the parking lot. I relocated him to a nearby rail so he wouldn’t get squashed by an oblivious palm. The mint plants I bought a couple of weeks ago and am watering regularly (as instructed by the man at the nursery) seem to be happy. Speaking of happiness, the May sumo tournament ends on Sunday and while there are a number of high-profile wrestlers injured, I’m enjoying seeing Kotozakura (grandfather a Yokozuna (highest rank), and father a Sekiwake (#3 rank)) and young hopeful Ōnosato fulfilling their potential. I’ve also recently finished a new Shelf Talks interview with author Suzanne Stauffer. We talked about foodies of the wild west and writing historical mysteries. And my website has a Now page!

Work is busy, life is busy, and as an antidote I’ve started reading Island of Books by Lawrence Clark Powell which is filled with short autobiographical bibliographic essays in which LCP waxes poetic about acquiring and absorbing great books. I especially like his description of first reading James Joyce’s Ulysses while on a 3-month sabbatical in Italy — sitting by the window on the top floor of a pensione with a lovely volume, looking down at its pages and out at the passing river, while a neighboring boarder practiced Bach Sonatas for unaccompanied violin. Powell read a few pages each morning, allowing him to savor the book for his entire stay.

A few hours after this issue posts, I’ll be sitting at a coffee shoppe reading more about Powell’s bibliophilia. I’m about to begin the chapter about D.H. Lawrence and I know LCP really liked Lawrence. Imagine, if you will, me enjoying myself. And please, I insist…take a little for yourself.

Me donning a “Hello, Mr. Dohyo!” t-shirt. A dohyo is the sumo ring. Mr. Dohyo is a very recent creation of Moti Dichne (Kintanayama), who posts the YouTube recaps I’ve been watching for several years now.

What Arose

I finally finished reading esteemed Talmud scholar Adin Steinsaltz’s book on Jewish mysticism, The Thirteen Petalled Rose, last week. Having never read anything about this aspect of Judaism, I was surprised that there seemed to be as many lists in the Jewish religion as in Buddhism! Breaking down the metaphysical structure of existence sure takes a lot of bullet points. Silly sound bytes aside, the book is fascinating and fleet; the writing, which was translated from Hebrew by Yehuda Hanegbi, moves gracefully from idea to idea, lingering no longer than necessary on each and yet eliciting further interest.

Moreover, the expression of holy ideas is graceful. Consider this passage from the chapter on the Torah:

The relation between Torah and the world is thus the relation between idea and actualization, between vision and fulfillment. So that the intellectual study of Torah and the emotional involvement in its contents are a form of identification with the divine will, with what may be called God’s dream of the existence of the world and the existence of man. One who is immersed in the Torah becomes a partner of God, in the sense that man on one hand and God on the other are participating in the planning, the spinning out of the idea, the common dream of the existence of the world.” (89)

In a previous chapter, “Worlds”, Steinsaltz defines and describes angels in ways I’d never imagined. But more than any one conceptual accomplishment, the most compelling ideas in The Thirteen Petalled Rose have to do with the unity of our world and actions with those of the ever-reacting worlds beyond our perception. This is the tantalizing promise of mysticism, isn’t it? That there is literally more than meets the eye.

Do I believe that all of existence is a concert of various cause-and-effect tied to ethical action? Not exactly, but it’s a majestic kingdom of an idea to try on. A crown of an idea, even!

“Still Life and a Window” (1935) by Arthur Segal

Flash Fiction: It Could Have Been Great

Dating has always been weird for me. I’m a quiet, unassuming guy who enjoys reading, jogging, and strategy games. If you saw me on the street, you’d probably guess accountant. But I’m not an accountant. I’m an economic analyst for a think tank. Back on track, dating is a perplexing activity, full of strange behaviors. Dating apps make things even worse with communication — which I’m not the best at even in person — being mediated by various peccadilloes of whatever platform you’re using. So when I “crunched” with a cute girl on the wholesomely named app, Cereal Box, I was elated and surprised.

We “munched” (chatted via text) for a couple of weeks and were really hitting it off. She liked to bake, hike, and play board games! (yay!) She wasn’t Type-A overwhelming like a lot of the other women on the app; her whole demeanor was just…right. She was friendly and we bonded over things we liked and also didn’t like such as loud people, travel, and cocktail parties. We joked that if we ever got married, it would take place mid-way up a scenic trail. We would invite five people each and the cake would be home-baked rice krispie treats with M & M’s (the candy would be for a little added excitement).

Things were going well so we decided on a place for our first date: A medium-sized art museum equidistant from us. It was convenient because the museum also had a cafe so we could share a muffin after looking at art. There was only a minor problem: I really wanted to impress her (Dorothy) but I wasn’t very knowledgeable about art. My solution was to visit the museum a few days before our date and become at least a little familiar with the collection. I wanted to point to painting and say, “This is my favorite one here,” like a real expert.

Everything was going well at the museum; I was looking at the paintings (they were nice) and not feeling so uncomfortable in the hushed environment. After walking around for a while, my plan was to go to the cafe to scope out the muffins, and then it happened. I was looking at an old painting of an coastal scene in Europe, I guess, and out of the corner of my eye I saw a lady. She was standing right next to me looking at the same painting. The longer we stood there, the more awkward I felt. Should I say something? If I was Tom Cruise or somebody, I would turn to her, point to the painting and say, all smooth, “This is my favorite one here.” But I could barely look at her. My side glances told me that she was wearing a blue dress and had long straight hair up to her shoulders. She was probably very attractive!

Finally, after standing there for a very long time. I made myself turn my head and look at her. She was attractive! But that was not why my heart started to race. Not only was she good-looking, but it was Dorothy! I was going to be caught! Just as I was plotting my awkward escape, she turned her head and saw me. I don’t think she recognized me at first but then she did.

“Boris? Hi, uh, what are you doing here?” She asked. I think she was nervous, too.

“Oh, ha ha, I’m studying for our, uh, meeting, uh, date,” I said, attempting a joke without being able to together a straightforward sentence. My face felt very hot.

We tried to make some small talk after that but it did not go well.

On the day before our date, I munched her on CB that I had a work assignment that I needed to complete urgently. She was gracious and said that she was coming down with a cold. I sent her a teapot emoji and she replied “lol, very thoughtful, thank you”.

That was the last time we spoke. Every so often I think of her and wonder if she was the one that got away.

“Kellogg’s cornflakes (Los Angeles type)” (1970) by Andy Warhol

Time Machine

Here’s what I wrote in HMF a year ago (in issue #13):

• Good at Politics: The positives and negatives of workplace politics.

• Do They Expect Magic?: In this essay, I first wrote about “Magic Questions”.

• Theme Park Characters: A small piece about Michael’s love of theme park characters, complete with a photo gallery.

“Morning” (1910) by Boris Kustodiev