The Annual Review

In many companies, particularly large corporations, there’s the ritual of the annual review.
Most employees approach this time with some trepidation. It’s an opportunity for your boss to review and rate your performance over the past year.
There are different categories - timeliness, playing well with others, meeting deliverables.
You find out which grade level you fall into, what he/she determines are your strengths and weaknesses, where you need to improve. This process may determine if you’re up for a promotion and raise, or if you need to rev up your game...or even possibly if you may be the next to go when there’s a downsizing.
As much as many people may dread this process, in the long run, it’s to their benefit. Feedback from superiors (and sometimes peers) allows one to objectively assess where he is and how to achieve his goals.

Far be it from me to question the Almighty, but I wonder why we don’t get some sort of life review from above.

There are so many factors that play into how a person acts and is judged. There’s upbringing, genes, peers, outside influences. One person has more talents, another a lot of energy, yet another a good support system. It’s hard to know how we’re doing. Words were invented to describe how people avoid making these self judgment calls – such as rationalization, denial, self-deception.

And of course, there’s a lot more at stake than a job. We’re talking afterlife and eternity. We’re talking about living up to potential, making a mark, making the most of our lives.
Don’t you want to know how you measure up?

I Made a Shiduch

I made a shiduch. To those of you who don’t know what that is, a shiduch is a match. And in this case, happily, a love match. Given that blogworld has its own time space continuum, this could have happened 2 days ago or 2 months ago. No matter.
I’m elated. I’ve tried before, and I continue to try to think of people to put together, but this is the first one where I’ve been involved from beginning to end. It’s been said that if you make 3 matches you go straight to heaven. But that’s not why I try. It’s such a feeling of accomplishment – to know that you’ve made two people happy and forestalled them from the suffering involved in the search. To know that future generations that come from this union will exist partially because of you.
I am under no illusion that this was my doing. I was the messenger…the conduit. But I’m pleased to be the messenger for happy tidings.

The Talmud says that when a man is created, it’s announced in heaven who will be the match for that person. To me this seems like a tease. If it’s already been pre-ordained, then why not just provide us with matching name tags when we’re born.
It would make life so much easier.
My guess is that if we were handed our mates on a silver platter, we wouldn’t appreciate them as much. Therefore we have to put in the effort to find the right one.
As this was a modern day shiduch, it was aided by the use of technology – replete with text messaging and emails. I still have the first email where he said he had a good time and wanted to see her again. I’ve saved the text message where she repeated the sentiment.
They make a beautiful pair k”ah. G-d willing they should always be happy and that I have a hand in many more successful matches.

Decisions Decisions

This may not be a very original thought, but I got to thinking that really life is actually a never ending series of decisions. At any given moment, whether consciously or subconsciously, we are choosing - how to spend our time, how to spend our money.
Do you make a phone call, take a nap, visit the sick, clean the kitchen?
How do you respond to a comment? Do you raise your voice, or keep calm?
Do you buy expensive clothing, or give more money to charity?

Through all the minutiae of daily living, we’re constantly deciding between possibilities.

Some are dramatic choices – what seem like major life decisions. Some seem unimportant. Very often, you don’t see which road your choices have taken you down until you can look back. Look at the way your children have turned out. The house you’ve decorated. The skills you’ve mastered.

It’s a sobering thought, and not all that pleasant. Sort of like mortality. But it’s there.
Like going through a maze. You take a right turn, walk straight, make a left. When you exit, you know if you’ve been going in the right direction all along.

For the New Year, my wish to all of you is for health, happiness, prosperity and to make the right choices.

In Praise of Praise

One day, an acquaintance of mine who had read some of my posts, sent me a lovely email praising my writing, character, demeanor and general wonderfulness. She is a very warm, generous, effusive person – so I took her comments with many grains of salt - but I have to say…it warmed my heart and made me feel good and appreciated. I printed out the note to keep with me and pull out once in a while to read if I’m feeling negative or down. And then I thought about it and decided to do the same for someone else. After all, it’s easy enough for me – a few words…a couple of written lines…how much effort would it take?
So I sent a note to someone I admire. She’s a consummate hostess, always inviting people for Shabbos. She has a beautiful home and family, a job, is perfectly turned out.
I told her some of the things that impressed me about her – her values, the ways she tries to help people, her heart. She was overwhelmingly grateful! This person who I thought was so confident and secure was so happy to hear that someone noticed and appreciated her efforts.
Then I tried it again. I spoke to a business contact. Someone who is at a very high level, very accomplished and earns a lot of money. I told him that some people who had worked with him in the past spoke highly of him and said that he was great to work with.
To my astonishment, he practically started crying. He explained that over the years in his career, people had come and gone…and he never knew if there was any real connection and how they felt about him.
In my life and in my work I come in contact with some extraordinarily gifted and bright people – people who are successful by every measurable benchmark. And yet I find, when you dig a little deeper, everyone is grateful for validation or a kind word. Scratch the surface, and there’s a morass of insecurities beneath the most confident looking person. People want to know that they’re well liked. That they’re making a contribution.
It requires so little effort - a little praise of the right sort. But like a gift, it has to be well chosen. You have to determine what’s important for that person to hear.
“Words that come from the heart, enter the heart.” Try it out. Make someone’s day.

Compassion - Nature or Nurture

Compassion – defined as a deep awareness and sympathy for another’s suffering.
Why are some people more compassionate than others?

I postulate that there are 3 ways to acquire compassion.

It’s innate – you’re born with it. You can see it in the schoolyard. A child falls or is picked on by a bully, and another runs over to help or defend him. The other kids continue playing, blithely unaware, while this one sympathetic soul is moved to act.

It’s taught. Some parents teach compassion while raising their children. They have many guests for Shabbos – people who would otherwise be alone. Perhaps they’ll volunteer for a charitable cause, or visit the sick and elderly.

And then there’s a third way –
The person undergoes some sort of suffering, and it makes him/her more sympathetic to another’s suffering. Often, these are the most sensitive and compassionate people.
I find this very interesting. You would think that it would be the person who has it good in life. That this person would recognize his good fortune and have the clarity of thought, peace of mind, and energy to be able to feel for and help others.
And yet…
Often it’s the person of meager means who is the first to stretch out his hand when he sees a beggar.
It’s (heaven forbid) the parents whose child has an illness, who then try to alleviate suffering for other children and become active in organizations which help them.
They recognize the pain because they’ve been introduced to it. It might otherwise never have crossed their minds.
The person who’s never had to struggle in school, who aced all his exams…isn’t aware (or doesn’t think about) the ones who study for hours on end without making a dent in the material.
The girl who gets married at nineteen with ease, won’t understand why someone else might have trouble meeting the right person and will date for years on end.

Sometimes we’re given troubles so that we can realize our potential.
It’s like exercising a muscle. The more you use it, the more empathic you become.

But the best is not to have to suffer to learn compassion, but to be compassionate because it’s the right thing. Because it’s the human thing.

Gym Rat

It’s interesting how so many things you do as a child carry through to adulthood.
Since I’ve been a kid, I’ve always had my nose in a book. Most of my notes from school were covered with doodles (mostly geometric shapes that had people suggesting I send them in for analysis), and I do that to this day on my notes at work.
And I’ve always made lists. There’s the never ending to do list – just when you think you’ve knocked off the most pressing ones, others come to take their place.
And then there’s the other list – of goals, things I’d like to accomplish.
Right now one of my goals is to work out regularly. I don’t just want to exercise. I want to be buff, toned, at my peak of physical fitness. Yeah right. I just want to look good.
So I joined a gym.
The problem with a gym is that it’s inconvenient. You have to travel there, change, exercise, shower and then go home. This is usually after a long day’s work, or early in the morning, when you’d really rather be doing something else. But I’ve tried going it alone, and that hasn’t worked out really well.
I hired a trainer for one session to set up an individualized workout plan for me. And she did. The only problem is, I don’t like working out by myself. I find it boring and lonely. Whether it’s the treadmill or an exercise video, I just don’t feel motivated. I don’t push myself as hard. If I’m feeling a little out of breath or tired, I’ll stop.
I decided that I needed the classes – I needed to be around people.
I also have a friend who’s my workout partner, which makes the experience more pleasant. I know that she’s counting on me to be there, so I’ll make sure to go, even if I’m not in the mood.
If I’m in a class with 20 women, I may stare at the clock, wanting the 45 minute grueling session to be over. But I won’t walk out of the room, even if I feel like I can’t take another minute of it. I won’t wimp out.
The same thing happens each time. I’m tired – it’s after work or it’s early on a Sunday. I have to force myself to go. I start the class and it’s difficult to get moving. But then I pick up the energy from the others. The pounding music, the synchronized steps, the instructor cheering us on.
I furtively look around the room…checking out how I compare against the others. I quickly pass over the ones who are obviously out of shape and zone in on the perfect bodies. Those are the ones I want to emulate.
We do a kickboxing class and it’s tough. I gaze at the clock – 15 minutes, now 30…only 15 left. Finally I get to the end of the class and the cool down stretching period. Yes! And then my workout buddy suggests a toning class. Another class?!
This class is especially punishing. Endless repetitions with weights and a body bar. First you do some squats, then go lower, then hold for a count of 10, then still lower.
I know all the words – biceps, triceps, quads, obliques.
I work out a couple of days in a row.
Two days later I’m really sore. It feels good in a way, but it really hurts. I flex my arms and although it’s just been a couple of weeks, I can already feel some extra definition.

Actually, I’m thinking about going right now. I feel the push-pull. I’m trying to ignore the little voice that tells me to relax and save it for another time. Then I think about my bathing suit, and quickly get moving.

(Frum) Working Girl

I am the only Orthodox Jewish person in my office, and for many of my colleagues (many of whom are Jewish), the only Orthodox person they’ve ever come in close contact with in their lives.
It keeps me on my toes. I never preach religion, but I’m conscious of the impression I give – whether it’s how I conduct myself in business, or my interactions with my fellow workers.

Whenever someone approaches me with a certain look in their eyes, a certain expression, I know it’s going to be about something Jewish.
Sometimes it’s informative. They’ll tell me about a Broadway show, a movie or a book with a Jewish theme. Perhaps they’ve seen an article in the newspaper. Or it might be about something interesting they’ve encountered – like when my boss told me about a woman at the gym who worked out wearing a skirt and shirt with long sleeves.
Other times it’s to ask me questions. They’re very curious about the rules - the way I dress, what’s allowed and what’s not, keeping kosher and what it means.

Everyone’s respectful. The men might tease me or compliment my hair or outfits, but it’s always within limits and they know not to touch me. It turns out that before I started, one of my colleagues (who has since become a friend) was worried that she wouldn’t be able to kid around, that I would be very serious - so I think it came as a relief to her that I have a sense of humor and I’m “normal”.
Another friend in the office always makes sure to check for the kosher sign when she buys snacks, so I can have some. When they ordered a cake for her birthday, she said she didn’t want one unless it was something I could eat. She (and others) go out to lunch with me at kosher restaurants.

The Jewish people sometimes ask me questions on philosophy or Halacha (Jewish law).
I’ve become the de facto “Rabbi” and of course I get to explain what each holiday is about.
Sometimes it provides an opportunity to do good. When one woman’s mother passed away, I asked her if anyone was going to say Kaddish. Initially she said no. A few minutes later she came back to me and tearfully asked if I could possibly get someone to take care of it. I made a few phone calls, and a very devoted Rabbi (whom I was able to reach on vacation on his cell phone) made the requisite arrangements.
Another time someone asked for words of comfort. Her father was very ill and it was hard for her to watch him suffer. I discussed the concept of our short time span on this world and the rewards in the world to come. She looked at me in astonishment and asked – we believe in an afterlife? I thought that was a Catholic belief.

Most of the time, my religiousness doesn’t come into play. I can talk about business, pop culture, family. There’s not much about the way I look that sets me apart. I don’t think that people are consciously aware of it.
But in the back of my mind, I suppose that I’m always aware to some extent. I feel like I’m a representative and I’d better not fall down on the job.