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Imaleh.li

Parenting, Judaism, and Other Crazy Journeys

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Creativity

Of God and Forests

When I walk through the still forest, I hear silence. But within the silence plays the symphony of life. The light is a music only trees can hear, and transform, ray by ray and note by note, into their own... Continue Reading →

The Luster of the Grapes

At the end of it all, my oldest son held my shoulders as I retched. “But you said they deserved it, Father,” he said later, after I shook his arms off and sank, shaking, to the ground. His words rang... Continue Reading →

The Color Red

My brother’s hair glows, reddish, in the starlight. "And then we can use-” His voice rises, and my mother leans forward. Her shoulders, her neck, her head - they all strain toward him, toward the vision roaring in his eyes.... Continue Reading →

The Curse of Sameness

I was born into a world that finished happening before me. "We chose wrong," my parents told me. "We sinned, and we were exiled. This is our world now." They lamented that other place they lost. They held on to... Continue Reading →

Changing Eve

"But you don't KNOW that it would go wrong, right? Not until you try!" Eve used to say it all the time. She said it when she wanted to go looking for lions in Eden's plains and when she thought... Continue Reading →

Maternity Leave

Here on the couch, I sit, no, I slouch, with my son on my shoulder and my tax returns folder, and a book, and another, (I don't know why I bother, I'll have to reread them when I won't have... Continue Reading →

Boston Bound

When the pomegranates bloom, I think of my grandmother. "Did the pomegranates blossom yet," she used to ask me in those long afternoons on her veranda. "Are there fruits on the trees? What did you see today? what did you... Continue Reading →

Narcissus’ Facebook account

Narcissus didn't fall in love with a reflection. He fell in love with his Facebook account. But he did lose himself in his beloved, and if we're not careful, it can happen to us too.

Joining the Exodus

Four years ago, my father celebrated his Bar Mitzvah. He was 65-year-old at the time, well above the traditional 13, but growing up in  the USSR wasn't exactly conducive to religious celebrations. My father didn't even celebrate the Jewish holidays... Continue Reading →

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