courage · dating · fortitude · Jewish · relationships · self-care

Saturn Returns.

Every twenty-eight years, the planet Saturn returns in its
orbit around the sun to place it had been when we were born. Every 28 to
approximately 30 years, there is a window of time which some people call
“Saturn Returns.” According to some, this period of time is ripe with change
and opportunity. Usually there are major life changes in this period, either
positive or negative, and according to legend, the lessons that we do not learn
during this first period of Saturn Returns around our 30th birthday,
we have the opportunity to learn again as we approach 60; and if we’re lucky
enough to be healthy for it, again around our mid to late 80s.
In what is proving to be one of the most uncomfortable
changes I’m making in this, my period of Saturn Returns, I cancelled my date
with the Catholic for tonight, and am finally, after many f’ing years of
debate, accepting that a Jewish partner is not only important to me, but
What makes this choice hard? Or this admittance? Well, it
feels like I’m closing a very large shiny door behind which are many large
shiny non-Jews. I also have debated whether this is “self-will,” me attempting
to shoe-horn myself into a belief that isn’t true or fair, one that says I’ll only date
Jews. How closed off is that?
But, the truth, the very hard truth of it is, that it’s the
only thing for me to do. I have been down the relationship path with men who
are not Jewish (in fact, no serious relationship I’ve ever had has been with
someone Jewish). What inevitably happens is that I spend a very large amount of
time while in the relationship debating whether it is a “deal-breaker,” until my brain feels like an out
of shape yoga participant. Achy, cranky, tired.
Ironically enough, on my date with this Catholic gentleman
on Monday, we’d been talking briefly about tattoos, and I said how I’d been
delaying my next one, as it’d be a large commitment. That I carry a quote from
a Starbucks coffee cup in my wallet which says something like, To commit to
something, in work, or in play, is to remove our brain as a barrier to our
To commit to this decision, to set down this whirling dervish of questioning … could be
a relief. I have never dated women – do I lament that I’ve “cut off” an entire
portion of the population? No. I’ve finally come to admit that dating someone
taller than me is actually really important to me. And that’s felt like a
sacrifice too. But, it’s funny, I’ve been noticing a lot more cute tall men
over the last two months…
Because what it all comes down to isn’t about religion or
self-will, it’s about abundance. Can I actually let myself believe that if I
really do, in my heart of hearts, want to spend a romantic life with someone
Jewish, can I believe that there is a tall, attractive, employed, happy, funny,
Jewish man out there? Seems like a tall order! (uh, no pun intended.) But, is
it? I mean, when I think about the kinds of miracles that I’ve witnessed in my
life and in the lives of others, am I still willing to debate the power of
what’s possible in this world? When I look at the majority of the community I
know as people who have been pulled back from the gates of insanity and death
to become working members of society with entirely incredible things to
contribute – am I still unwilling to
allow myself to believe?
The painful answer is no. I am not unwilling anymore. I have
been beaten into a state of reasonableness, I have suffered under the pain of
my manic debating society, and I have resigned from that committee. I am
willing to commit to the belief that my needs are important. Haven’t I been
saying that here for a while? Haven’t I run into places in my professional life
where I’ve agreed to things I don’t want, only to have to back out? Haven’t I
made a conscious and kind-to-myself decision to not do that anymore?
Isn’t this the same thing? Isn’t this the same cosmic
lesson? To listen to myself. To allow my needs to be heard. To be responsible
to myself with care, not dismissal. Yes. It is.
And so, here I sit, willing to allow the same consideration to my romantic life that I am newly showing myself in the areas of my professional and creative life, to
allow that faith, that sense of fun, and play, and direction, and the firm
belief that wherever these bits in the cement are coming from, I can trust that
I am being led to a life worth living.
It feels so uncomfortable. Which sort of points out to me
that it’s the “right” thing. I’ve resigned before to the “easy” route of accepting whatever’s in front of me, only to end up in pain. This is making a resolute decision to groove a new
A good girl friend reminded me yesterday that crazy things happen when people are supposed to be
together, so if this particular gentleman or another non-Jew is actually
supposed to be it, he will be. “If it’s meant to be, you can’t fuck it up; if
it’s not meant to be, you can’t fix it.”
But ultimately, she also said that she sees this decision as me letting go of the rock in the middle of the river, and allowing myself to float. 
So, here’s to learning the lessons this orbit around. Bring
on the miracles.

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