Awareness, conscience, sense of belonging, search for balance or meaning in life, or the opportunity to explain the unbelievable…

First of all, I was born in a country with a negative approach towards religious entities. At that time, it was common to make fun of people who practiced, and in general the Communist ideology was the absolute religion.

Upon my arrival in the US, I spent some time working with Orthodox Jewish families.

Since I had never had the experience of knowing that part of my Jewish faith, I was shocked in a lot of ways, probably along with my own frustration in having to adapt to a new place and my isolation—I came by myself without any friends.

There was also the matter of different levels of social status: I had come from medical school and an intelligent academic family. My professional future was vague. I also had plans for my love life, but those plans never came to fruition.

The bottom line was that I was searching for something stable.

At that time I noticed in the Borough Park neighborhood, where I worked, that all the women were dressed the same: the same sneakers, long denim skirt, long thick white socks, and a long-sleeved shirt. The same style wig.

Every day they had an absolutely rigid schedule. Fridays they prepared for Shabbat with the same menu every week. They prayed, they raised kids, they shopped, they had cleaning ladies. They lived by strict and very well defined rules. Even their sexual schedule was not set by nature but by determined rules. The mikva after menstruation. The white sheet with a hole in a middle for male-female interaction. The whole process directed toward reproduction. The same furniture in every house. Almost identical wooden tables and massive chairs with curved legs, covered with clear plastic. The same ceremonial silver dinnerware. I used to clean it with a soft “shmata”  and a sugary-smelling solution. There was a special set of Passover tableware, a shining silver menorah for Chanukah. There were two sinks in the kitchen to keep the house kosher: one for meat, one for milk.

I can’t say any of this resonated in my soul, but I was jealous of this well-regulated life.

I did not want to have torturous doubts every day on all sorts of issues, real or unreal.

I wanted to have everything worked out for me every Saturday and have a clear program for the next day, the next week, the next month and all the years to come.

Of course, nothing happened. It was all just in my head. I visited Temple on Yom Kippur and I did not find the atmosphere welcoming, and I did not understand the deep meaning of it either.

The moral of that story is that I was looking for a guru. That search was not only for a spiritual life and a love life, but also for my professional career. I was imagining that one day I would meet someone with all the answers for me. He would show me how to live in America, and I would enjoy the ride. This might simply be the typical mentality of a Russian girl from the 90s. The main dream in my social circle was to meet the man who will make you set for life. I can say I was looking for a professional guru as well. I thought I could meet an experienced, ethical dentist, and under his wing I could increase my skills in a comfortable atmosphere without cold sweat on my back.

But my dreams did not come true for me in that way.

Years passed and I found a lot of appealing aspects to the Jewish religion. I celebrate several holidays every year. I like to start the New Year in September with juicy, sweet apples with thick brown honey. The multitude of seeds in a pomegranate excite me with their clear, bright color and sharp, bittersweet taste.

I keep Yom Kippur and fast for 24 hours. I respect myself for doing it and it gives me a sense of enlightenment. Sometimes I visit the synagogue and I enjoy the cantor’s deep voice and find wise words in books written from right to left. Of course, I can only understand the English version of the text, but singing make me feel relaxed and somehow fills me up with new meaning for the year. I like the feel of the prayer book in my hand and its freshly printed smell.

I am delighted by the story of Chanukah because I believe in miracles. I make potato latkes and use a lot of oil to commemorate the bravery of the Maccabees and their faith. I light one more candle every night to add a magical light to my life.

I find Purim in the spring to be reflection of Carnival, but the heroic story of Mordechai and Esther impresses me. I make sweet Humentashi, triangles with poppy seeds, just like the bad guy Haman’s ears.

And there is nothing wrong with eating matzo during Passover. I ask the same questions the youngest family member has been asking the oldest for the last three thousand years. Basically it is a freedom Holiday. It makes me proud. I put different spices and foods on a special Passover plate and ask my boys about all the unfortunate events that happened in Egypt after Pharaoh did not want to “let my people go.”

I can say that the seasons change from one holiday to another. I feel a special contact with previous generations through the stories and food.

I did celebrate a bar mitzva for Matt after special preparation with a rabbi and a trip to Israel. I personally learned about the Jewish color bright blue, which Mark Chagall used so abundantly in his paintings and stained-glass windows.

And I can say that choosing a white kittel with tekhelet strips and a tzitzit for Matt’s ceremony in a Judaica store was a fulfilling experience. Matt was the first person in my immediate family who had that coming-of-age ceremony. Four thousand years of that beautiful tradition was lost during the Communist regime in my very obedient family, which was very supportive of the regime.

In addition to that I bought a blue-violet velvet bag to keep his square leather boxes with scrolls of the Torah. He wore those leather boxes on his head while he read the Torah next to the Western Wall. That tekhelet velvet bag has his Hebrew name embroidered on it in golden letters, and I like the solemnity and softness of it.

I felt very well-equipped with paraphernalia for a spiritual bar mitzva in Israel. To add local color, we had a unique tour guide, Mark. He looked like one of the patriarchs: long ungroomed beard, black nails from constantly smoking home-made cigarettes. He had emigrated from Moscow to Israel in the 80s. Prior to his emigration he had spent approximately ten years as a “dissident,” someone who was opposed to the Communist regime, studying Hebrew and Israeli culture. He had had a “bris” done at home by his spiritual teacher. It was all illegal—people were prosecuted for being Zionists, losing good jobs, having to become maintenance workers. Mark’s story was not so unique, but those years made him feel Jewish history in his heart. We traveled through different historical places in Israel, and he was constantly sharing stories from various time periods. He had the unique ability to make those tales so personal that I had no doubt he had not only witnessed events, but participated in them in some way.

We were traveling through the green Hula Valley. Young Arab boys in scarves on donkey were drawing water from a well.

Mark made us feel involved in the Biblical legend of the selection of a wife for Isaac. Isaac’s father, Abraham, had sent his servant to his hometown to find a good match for his son.

I was just imagining I would be chosen like that, or I would trust someone to find a lifetime friend for my boys. The servant obviously had common sense. He arrived at the well with ten camels loaded with gifts for a future wife and all her relatives and neighbors to make a good first impression. He wanted to find someone kind, compassionate, and full of life. What could be more important than these qualities?

Isaac’s servant noticed a beautiful girl, and he approached her with the request to give water to his camels. She was willing to help. I can imagine how strong she must have been to draw enough water from the well to satisfy ten camels. A camel has the ability not to drink for ten days, but then when this animal does drink, he really means it.

Rebecca was helpful and physically fit. The servant gave her a golden bracelet for each arm and a ring for her nose, just as the tradition for new brides recommended.

She disclosed to the servant her family genealogy, her parents’ and grandparents’ names. Her grandfather happened to be Abraham’s brother. The servant was very satisfied—marriage in a family was common business at that time. Rebecca went back home and told her family about the encounter. Her brother immediately ran to the well to invite the servant to have dinner with his family and stay overnight. That’s the legendary hospitality of the Middle East!

The smart servant was totally satisfied with the order of Rebecca’s house. He made his offer. Rebecca’s family asked her—she was ready for a life of adventure. She did not mind traveling far away and being separated from her family.

The smart servant unloaded ten camels and gave gifts to the parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, neighbors, and so forth.

Now it is all history…Isaac was very comfortable and deeply in love with the choice his wise servant made for him. Just imagine!

I looked into the depth of the cool well and I thought, “Opportunity knocks once.” Rebecca along with Isaak founded a nation just like that, from being willing to give water to the camels.

We continued to explore the dusty roads of Israel. Just like a bad neighborhood in some famous cities, there was the bloody road from the first city in world history, Jericho, to Jerusalem. Surprisingly, it is still a bad neighborhood. One Jewish merchant had to travel to Jerusalem to conduct important business three thousand years ago. Of course, he was robbed, beaten up, stripped, and left on the road to die.

A charismatic priest passed by, but he did not want to waste his valuable time on a bleeding man.

A wealthy noble Levite was walking by, and he tried to look at the other side of road. Who knows what kind of trouble he might get involved in.

Only the Samaritan offered his help. He brought the suffering merchant to the inn, cleaned him up, put pain-reliving remedies on his wounds, paid for his stay in the hotel. I was thinking how help and immediate solutions can come from totally unexpected sources. At that time, Jews considered Samaritans to be not only low-class people but also enemies. Due to some historical turns, both sides tried to hurt each other at any possible opportunity.

That story has been depicted in a lot of paintings. In a way, you do not know who is your real friend, and kindness always will be rewarded.

I am Jewish, but I don’t practice in a conventional way. I practice in a delicious ceremonial way, decorated with multiple stories and supported by a connection with previous generations who used to live in shtetls. But more than that.

I had quite a long period of self-doubt and self-search, not with regard to religion but mostly to my life in general. I explored my relationship with different faiths.

I like to travel to the countries where the Mogul empire flourished. In my opinion, those stories Mohammed was listening to in the desert from the angel Gabriel whispering and the Jewish Bedouins made him create a beautiful book.

That fact that his followers were not able to worship images of people or animals but could use geometrical and artistic representations made what are to me the most beautiful structures in the world. I am delighted to be physically present there among the magnificent golden writings on the walls.

For my physical and mental well-being I take yoga classes from time to time. I was never able to embrace that spirit even though I spent some time in an ashram. Because I cannot take that philosophy in, I am not able to do a headstand and some other tricks, I think.

But I have beautiful relationships with the Hindu gods. I really like Ganesha’s optimism, intelligence, and wisdom. A lot of the gods have a lot of hands for multitasking.

One feature I am constantly searching for is balance. I like to arouse memories of the calm, self-satisfied face of the reclining Buddha, sitting Buddha, and so on. I saw a lot of him while I was exploring Asia.

But my favorite approach to create sort of order in my life would be the Japanese approach. Religion for holidays and a different approach for regular days, because those are different entities.

I make a constant effort to bring aesthetics into my life. That philosophy on an everyday basis touches me. I just admire beautiful sand gardens, giving attention to all the mysterious details.

The fact that you can only see fourteen stones in a fifteen-stone garden (do you know about that Ryoan-ji temple garden in Kyoto?) kind of supports your vision to see things from a new perspective of never-ending exploration. And whenever you meet someone interesting and inspiring, just count your blessings…