This was probably the gentlest and most meaningful Yom Kippur I’ve had in recent memory. Last year, I couldn’t fast because of medication issues, which left me feeling a somewhat divorced from the whole thing (although I was happy to come pray and root for my cousin, who was leading services), and the year before that I was slamming myself pretty hard mentally. This year was much more about acknowledging the past and thinking about meaningful changes in the future in a gentle way.
I’ve signed up for a writing class and this wednesday will be our second meeting. I’m liking it so far: the students are friendly, the assignments are interesting, and the demanded level of output is nearly to Clarion’s standards, which makes me very happy. I like having a high bar to try and meet. I came home from the first class and stayed up until 2AM writing a story where the protagonist was a kid who used to beat me up in school and the villain was my 13-year-old self. Needs polishing, but it was a fascinating idea. I saw him as a human being for the first time.