While our weekend revolved around my son’s soccer tournament, it was impossible to ignore how the city made concerted efforts to celebrate Valentine’s Day. Hearts and hearts and more hearts cascaded along sidewalks, streetlights, and walls. At night, they transformed into neon assertions, as though declaring: today, and today only, we celebrate love.

I’ve never been one to abide by these cultural rituals.

Years ago, I told my partner that I’d rather receive a bouquet of flowers on a random Tuesday than on the day when everyone performs this form of love.

Tell me you’re thinking about me. Just because.

It’s not only the consumer…

Read more

It’s easy to overlook its complexity, given the presence of works by leading Surrealist artists Salvador Dalí, Man Ray, René Magritte, Dorothea Tanning, and Leonora Carrington, to name a few, which are prominently positioned in the exhibition.

I almost walked by the sculpture, barely noticing it.

But something demanded my attention. Something drew me in. I walked back, looked closer, and inspected the two figures mounted on wood:

I was intrigued.

Who are these characters? What do they represent? What is the relationship between them? What narrative am I invited to engage with?

Subscribe now

I immediately walked to the placard on the wall and discovered the name of this magnificent work: The Road; The Shadow; Too Long, Too Narrow (1946, bronze and wood) by the brilliant Brazilian artist Maria Martins.

I walked back to the sculpture and took my time, examining its various pa…

Read more

Though the video was first circulated seven years ago, it still pops up on my feed every now and again. It always conjures a sense of hope within me. Each and every time.

Volume up, please:

Read more

My beloved and I watched the film several months ago with our kids, as part of our family-movie-watching weekend ritual, a few months after its release. We saw it moments before it became a massive global phenomenon.

The film is framed by a mythical story, which Wikipedia generously and eloquently explains:

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

Long ago, demons preyed on humans, feeding their souls to their ruler Gwi-Ma. Eventually, three women became demon hunters and used their singing voices to create a magical barrier against demons called the Honmoon. As time passed, new trios of hunters emerged to maintain the Honmoon, with the ultimate goal of strengthening it into the Golden Honmoon—a final seal that would banish demons permanently.

KPop D…

Read more

Subscribe now

There’s a relatively unknown – yet deliciously satisfying – sound that is birthed by the union between red-hot-metal and water.

It’s called quenching.

Quenching is a mandatory step in metalsmithing. Metal, as we know, is hard. To create a piece of jewelry, it is necessary to soften metal with fire until it emits a red glow (annealing), then quench it by quickly immersing it in water (or air or other liquids).

This extreme and speedy transition between hot and cold, fire and water, reduces the metal’s hardness and makes it workable. It allows us to bend silver wire into jump rings that will eventually evolve into a chain-necklace, capture a luminous moonstone into a bezel-set ring, or curve the tips of a bracelet around a wrist.

Annealing, followed by quenching, transforms rigidity into malleabilit…

Read more

If you or someone you care about is in a crisis, call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at (800) 273-8255 to talk with a caring, trained counselor. It is free, confidential, and available 24/7.

*

If you hear the smoke detector roaring in my neighborhood, it’s my house.

It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem, it’s me.

I’ve had an affinity for fire since I taught myself how to light a match. I almost always light incense and candles before sitting to write at my desk. Sure, you can call it ritual or amateur pyromaniac, but it’s the dance of the flames that allures me. The ephemeral sway in air. The fact that its movement is utterly unpredictable.

Like life.

The flame’s existence derives from its source (wick, type o…

Read more

I know that sounds dramatic, but there’s no other way of placing into language my experience. I know every single one of my words will fail, to some degree, to convey what happened, but here we go:

My dear friend Ivette invited me to attend an ASTROPICAL concert at the Hollywood Bowl. When she explained that each song in their debut album is dedicated to a zodiac sign, I couldn’t resist! What’s more, the concert took place on the day of the Pisces Full Moon & Total Lunar Eclipse.

That evening, I wore a bright yellow dress with massive magenta flowers, swept on orange, pink, and yellow eyeshadow, and applied bright lipstick. I was ready to dance under the light of the full moon!

Ivette and I met up with her friend (who also brought a friend), and the four of us, with our “Who run the world? Girls!” vibe, began our full Hollywood Bowl experience, that is, arriving early, eating, drinking, and being merry outside the venue.

I needed it. Weeks befo…

Read more

In the months that followed, I created a handful of pieces. I loved the immediacy of the art form. The only mediators between my imagination and the material were my very own hands. Unlike the paint brush, which had remained confined to my stability, concentration, and balance, my hands could play with clay and formulate whatever shape I willed. Every finger was put to work. I oscillated between standing or sitting, depending on the demands of the piece, never staying still. Always in motion.

I was curious to explore what I could create, and how a thought or idea could manifest into a tangible entity. Something that hadn’t existed soon became visible and real.

I recall quickly steering away from the workshop tasks, and so while everyone was buildi…

Read more

It turns out that The Pico Union Project was originally the Sinai Temple, built in 1909. The building was sold to the Welsh Presbyterian Church in 1926 and belonged to their congregation until 2013.

It was almost impossible to trace the building’s Jewish foundations, since its interior showcases a massive pipe-organ housed under an intricate flower-carved wooden arch, large stenciled cathedral-glass windows, and rows of wooden pew benches.

It was only when we were directed to carefully observe the windows, their intricate design gone dark against the night sky, that the large Stars of David were rendered visible. We then shifted our heads upward toward the cast-iron chandelier to note additional Jewish symbols molded in the ceiling.

As I examined the building’s historical layers,…

Read more

Our one-mile trail was hot and humid and the wave of people getting off buses and checking their phones and greeting people slowed us down. Still, we persisted, and minutes before the opening scene we were at the entrance, practically tossing our phones at the kind person who quickly scanned our tickets.

Wiping the sweat from our foreheads, we leaned back in our seats and sighed in relief that we made it in time. Within moments, we were transported to another realm, to the realm of Molière’s Tartuffe, a play that premiered in Versailles in 1664 in front of King Louis XIV.

Tartuffe; Or, The Hypocrite is a play about family, faith, and deceit. The play revolves around Tartuffe, a conman who poses as a pious person, and Orgon, head of his household with high social standing and wealth. Orgon is utterly infatuated with Tartuffe, whom he believes is…

Read more

*

We build holy sites
And pray to the Divine

We ask for peace
We ask for safety
We ask for mercy
We ask for forgiveness

But from our moon
We are a glorious sphere
Of water and life

Our lands have no borders
Our species no nations
Our bodies no names

Our planet rotates
Around a star
We named Sun

Our minds attempt
To grasp 
The great miracle
Of our existence

We are merely
A point in time and space

A beautiful mystery
Of endless questions
With no answers

Our ancestors traced
The phases of the seasons
While we keep ourselves
Locked in narratives
Of separation

Oh, Summer Solstice,
You gift us with
The longest day
Of the year

I pray
For our courage
To forge
New alliances

To create new todays
And new nows
And new ways of
Being

I pray
For us to dive
Deep into our hearts
To create connection
When we are told
To seek otherness

I pray
For the bright sunlight
To warm our souls
To cast away
The manufactured darkness

Nothing is truly dark
When the light …

Read more

As I wrote in the “About” section of my Substack, my main goal has been to subvert Bertolt Brecht’s famous lines:

In the dark times

Will there be singing?

There will be singing

Of the dark times

I added how “it’s easy to slip down the rabbit hole of our current ‘dark times’ — both nationally and internationally. However, I’ve always felt the need to push back against the idea of ‘singing/ of the dark times.’ I want poems to rebel. To speak out against the dark forces. To offer solace amid uncertainty.”

Looking back, I wanted to erase the “dark times” entirely. I didn’t want living and art-making to be a perpetual response to the ills of the world. I didn’t want our singing and living to be dependent on, and a response to, our political and social landscapes at the time.

What can I say? I’m a relentless optimist.

…

Read more

That is, she and I and approximately 69,999 others who attended her concert at SoFi Stadium in Inglewood shared many intimate moments.

To honor one of the greatest performers of our time, I wore flare denims, a vintage sequin jacket, and a pink cowboy hat. It’s the Cowboy Carter tour, after all, and part of the fun is dressing up according to the concert theme.

It’s also a way to express gratitude for a woman who gives every single ounce of herself to every single outfit, every single dance move, and every single song lyric. Beyoncé shows up to perform and entertain. She’s not playing around. She gives us her best self. Every moment overflows with intention, thought, and passion.

To watch Beyoncé in her element is truly, I think, an opportunity to witness greatness.

I thought about Queen B throughout that weekend and especially on Mother’s Day.

And before I continue, a note to you, Cherished Reader:

This…

Read more

Drawn to the bright neon palette of this piece, my eyes traveled from one shape to another. The expansive green area first guided me in, followed by the more intricate forms painted in yellow, pink, and deep blue.

I find this kind of art fascinating. There seem to exist multiple layers of meaning and a specific order of elements in a composition that might, at first, appear “abstract,” unplanned, and arbitrary. Surely, Adnan carefully curated each color and design, knowing that each individual component would align harmoniously into a whole.

I was first introduced to Adnan as a celebrated writer. In graduate school, we read her novels and essays, and it was only years later that I discovered she started painting in her 30s – up until her recent passing at the age of 96.

Searching for t…

Read more

On Saturday, March 29^th, I spent the day embodying the Goddess, as I participated in a special photography project that focuses on women with disabilities. I’ll write more about this experience soon, but state briefly that the afternoon spent at the Chumash Park and Trail in Simi Valley was magical and empowering. I walked barefoot on the lush grass, cleaned by rainfall days before, and leaned on magnificent trees to channel the energy I have kept locked within for too long.

I gathered this new-found liveliness and was ready to continue my latest writing project with a BANG, when I received, days later, the news that my beloved Aunt Shula, my dad’s older sister, passed away.

From the moment I broke down, trembling and crying on the hardwood floor, to the moment I arrived to Kibbutz Yotvata, a desert paradise my aunt co-established in 1957, barely twenty years old – with big dreams and even bigger determination – it seemed …

Read more

“When you die the soul moves on to the next one and the body remains in a dream.”

These are the exact words spoken by my seven-year-old daughter immediately after Oz took his last breath. She was by his side until the very end, and when the threshold between life and death locked his body into stillness, it’s as though she had access to the Great Terrifyingly Beautiful Beyond. That mysterious place/space/time/existence we transition to after we die.

My children are exceedingly curious about death. At about 7:56 a.m., when my morning coffee still hasn’t kicked in, and I’m zigzagging like a Formula 1 driver along Pico Blvd to get them to school on time, they like to ask,…

Read more

But life continues to life. Things don’t always go as planned. We had a health scare on Wednesday that resulted in a visit to the ER in the middle of the night. Thank the Goddesses, all is fine! And on Saturday, in the early afternoon hours, our beloved dog Oz exhaled for the last time. He was almost 15 years old.

(By the way, the “O” in his name is pronounced like the letter “o,” so his name does not sound like The Wizard of Oz.)

Oz’s passing didn’t come as a surprise. In fact, early last week I had a long intimate belly rubbing session with him. I shared how much I loved him and always will. How grateful and honored I was to be a part of his life. I also told him that if he needed to transition, if he’s ready, that I give him my blessing. That he doesn’t have to stick around for our sake. We’ll be able to handle it, I reassured …

Read more

Imaginarium was my haven. The store introduced me to the magical worlds of nature, art, and science. I spun rotating mobiles of our solar system – back when Pluto was still our nineth planet – built electric trains and learned anatomy.

It was during the glorious days of the shopping mall, before endless online consumption, when brightly lit stores allowed us to not only purchase necessitates like shoes and clothing, but also interact with worlds we would otherwise not have access to.

It was also the time I began my intimate journey with gemstones.

One o…

Read more

The road is long and winding

I fall down and rise…

I will never stop walking

I fall down and rise…

Passing one bridge after another

I fall down and rise…

How long the road is...

I stand with my head raised

Before the days of internet and devices, before widespread self-affirmations and “Keep Calm Carry On,” songs like this transformed into our mantra. How easy it was to lean into the rhythm, at once electrifying, at once soothing for my twenty-year old self, who was transitioning back to civilian life after wearing a military uniform for two years. The song allowed me to feel seen. The road is long and winding. I do fall down. Quite often, actually. I fall and fall and fall. And, eventually, I rise and keep going.

I was reminded of “Nofel Ve’kam” in the last 72 hours. Within this short ti…

Read more

But this time was different. I have worked very hard to place healthy boundaries around my consumption of news and social media, but this current reality is inescapable – and very real – with alarming attempts to diminish democracies across the globe, with our planet relentlessly howling back at the climate crisis, with the growing weapon industry, …

Read more