Counting 7’s, Aces and Blessings

So when I turned “65” two years ago we celebrated at The Kotel in Israel. We contacted the Women at The Wall and created a rite of passage. I raised my hand to G-d, all the time holding onto the wall. Social security, Medicare with AARP F supplemental, drug plan (no not that kind)- nexium cocktails, carpal tunnel procedures, medical tests you can’t pronounce; blah, blah, blah. Concurrently, however we brought back the supplemental bag of the good stuff that comes along with age appropriate hearing loss. Whatever that means. Longer periods of peace of mind on the top of the list. Recognizing “what”really matters and “who” doesn’t. Oh, and you don’t have to win every Mah jongg game as long as you were able to put the game together, big count. Binge watching Mrs. Maisel (shout out to  Rhonda in three episodes), and The Kominsky Method,  replaces filling your dance card with idle chatter while blind dating a new couple.

We returned to Israel this past Thanksgiving.  Gave thanks as we watched our second grandson become a bar mitzvah. Piece of good luck.

 Two years ago at the Carmel Market in Tel Aviv, I found a bar of soap that I love. Story to follow. 

We met up with a high school buddy (Jon Kuritsky) for those in the know and his wife Diana. She introduced me to the soap. They live in a beautiful village on the Mediterranean several hours north of Tel Aviv called Shavei Zion. It is in between Acco and Nahariya. They do many interesting things with their lives. She’s a writer, he tows their land and they operate an inn/spa called NEA. 

Here’s where the soap comes in. I learned about a part of life or in fact death I never knew about before. Diana and Jon, pay it forward in a meritorious way. They are part of community of people who are known as Chevra Kadisha. Their responsibilities are to prepare the dead before burial. At first I thought how morbid, how scary. When I realized someone chooses to do so as the religious experience of being the last person to see the dead, I came to see it differently. My hat goes off to them, as it would not even be wIthin the realm of possibility for me to ever consider. My charitable paying it forward has a much different tone to it. Anyway, I used the bar of soap for two years, sparingly. It was great for everything from washing my face, to getting tough stains out. If you are still reading, I ended up getting another bar of this soap from a cousin who lives in Israel. My take away is that symbolically the soap is a symbolic for cleansing the body and mind. We simultaneously count blessings all the while trying hard not to step on the cracks, while leaping into the next phases of life. We buy lite mayo and thinks it tastes fine, sign up for Pilates and appreciate that the FOMO’s (feelings of missing out) really only exist when you are. Make it a great Saturday!

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