Yael Nehama

You could chalk it up to the stars I was born under. Cancerian/Moonchildren are known to love their homes dearly, though some could call it a simlple, albeit minor case of agoraphobia. I myself just relish the warm and snug feeling of my home. One would imagine that as much as I love my home, homemaking would be my easiest and finest joy. Well, it is...now. When I was younger it was not, not by a long shot. In my early days of motherhood I lacked the skills and the balance to raise children and keep a tidy home. Since I could not do both, I focused on raising my children because as the poem goes: "The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow, for children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow. So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep. I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep." That was my story then. And it made sense, but there were many times thankfully where I could get my house in order, especially as my children grew older. But truth be told, I nev...

Part 1 I just got finished reading this post, Herbalism On the Edge by Kiva Rose. Her post proved once again to me, that although I have never had the privilege of actually meeting Kiva in person, (I do harbors hopes of doing so one day) , I count her as a trusted friend and teacher on my path. Her post also has spurred me on to take a look at what is going on in my life, breathe a minute and reach out via this blog again. I think one of the hardest thing regarding the evolution from Philly FarmGirl to Village WiseWoman was the life changes I was undergoing, and that reflected in my posts. No longer were my posts focused of the joy I found in mothering my three children and homeschooling. Now they were about trying to find my none too clear path and focus on who I was becoming. Then when it seemed I was finding my way, the need to earn an income seemed to consume me to the point I no longer had time for the magic of living. Even the names seem to reflect the becoming, from farm girl t...

I am a moonchild and I have a love affair with the moon. I watch her constantly and observe her comings and goings. I meditate on her waxing and her waning and it makes me think of my own. I think of how she is the lesser light that rules the night and a reflection of the greater light that rules the day, regardless of whether you see her or not she is there. I love all the moon songs, moon books, pictures and jewelry. I've written her poems and celebrated her monthly rebirth. She is a metaphor for women and the beauty of femininity. According to the rabbis she is even a metaphor for the Jewish people, a reflection of Divine Light. She is my Grandmother carrying wisdom and Light from high above. And I love her. Tonight my husband set up the telescope and knowing how much I love the moon he called me out to see. How lovely! I could not believe the craters and the light that was reflected off the surface. There she is and here we are, drifting in space, spinning and twirling, dancers...

The day before a holiday and/or shabbat is always hectic at school. Couple that with the fact school has just started and so there is a ton of other things I am trying to accomplish and you have the ingredients for Frustration Stew. Today I was in such a stew and the time came for my break when I soon realized that said break was not going to happen. Nonetheless, I ran home, about half a mile from work, to try and grab something to eat and find glue sticks (don't ask). In the short time it took to get home, my frustration was heavy on my head. I drove home, turned off the radio and got out of my car. Just then I heard a hawk's cry. I looked up to see if I was hearing things when there I saw her soaring over me. As I was admiring my friend Hawk, soaring so effortlessly in the sky, a monarch butterfly flew over my head and I smiled. Right here in Philly, the hawk still cries the butterfly still flies and at that moment all is right in the world and that is what matters. I tho...

For the past nine years I have wanted to learn Breslov Chasidut with someone, anyone, near my home. As there is no vibrant Breslov community here I was pretty much tough outta luck. I continued on my not so merry way, and occasionally I would meet up with someone who would be willing to learn a little with me. I must say, those times were like a small oasis to me and I was most grateful for them but they lasted only weeks, if I was lucky. By nobody's fault the learning simply fizzled out. Well, perhaps it was someone's fault. Maybe even mine. Perhaps I just wasn't ready. Perhaps I was not committed to learning with others and sharing that learning. Perhaps I simply did not want it enough then, because this past summer I have enjoyed the sweetness of learning with a group of ladies that have become such a precious time in my week and particularly of my shabbat. It all started when I met one lady at shul (synagogue). Now allow me to preface this with just a little someth...