One of my favorite places in Israel was the “Crusader Building” at Mt. Zion in Jerusalem. This was a spot I’d go most days in order to meditate. It remains one of my most favorite spots in the world. The Crusader Building is a building with three levels just outside the stone wall of the ancient city surrounding the Temple. At the basement exists a shrine for Jews where hundreds each day come to pray at King David’s tomb, chanting psalms and singing their hearts out. At the center of the building, thousands of Christian tourists pour out of tour buses to enter the room of the Last Supper. There is no long wooden table or scraps of bread and wine to be found, just a big, empty room where some believe Jesus shared his last meal, a Passover seder, with his nearest and dearest. Upstairs, beneath a great dome exists a mosque where the Turks erected a place of prayer when they took over the city several hundred years ago.

While no one ever really knows where anything took place two thousand years ago, the fact that at any one moment it is likely to find Jews, Christians and Muslims praying, visiting, and essentially existing in alignment with one another is enough a reason to frequent the place. I liked to come here when I was a young man focused on finding that deep, authentic place of love within myself. Lots of folks believed me to be a loving dude, for sure… I was nice to people, kind to strangers and I smiled a lot. I was a spiritual hippie, of sorts, open to the beliefs and practices of most everyone and moved through life ready to break bread in most anyone’s home.

Yet, I knew within myself that I felt like a spiritual fraud and worried that one day I might be found out. I felt a disconnect within that troubled me immensely. I felt like I did and said all the right things, however when it came to truly embodying unconditional love in a completely integrated, unconscious way, I felt like I had a lifetime of work to do before I reached that level. Over time I had become friendly with the regular guard who served as security for the Room of the Last Supper. Each afternoon, the room was closed for a couple hours during ” national nap time” in which tourists were not permitted entrance. My friend allowed me to stay in the space by myself for an hour where I could meditate in what felt like one of the only truly silent spots in the Old City. These opportunities seemed to do more for the deep unfolding of my authentic presence than praying at the wall, studying ancient texts or eating healthy food. Breathing mindfully into silence was the gold that filled my pockets to be shared with others well into the future.

On this particular afternoon, I slipped past frustrated tourists who had come too late to be admitted and assumed my usual spot on the floor at the center of the great room. I liked to chant at the start of these meditations as it seemed to create a certain vibration around me into which my silence could rest. I sat in my white raw silk clothes, a colorful hand knitted kipah covered part of my head while large curls of long hair sprung out from all sides of my Jew-fro. As I chanted a favorite mantra taken from one of David’s psalms about faith that I learned from a Sephardic Jew, I rocked back and forth over my crossed legs, gently swaying a little like Stevie Wonder.

I was gone.
Whoosh.
Lost in my chanting, lost in the moment, enraptured by the sound of my heart passing through my lips, the rocking of my body like a boat on the Galilee, gone.

As my consciousness passed through portals and gates, through the pardes (garden) of enlightenment, across marble stairs that resembled the ocean and a gentle breeze that tasted like pomegranate, I began to experience waves of light, bursting through me like flares through my third eye. They seemed to burn my eyelids and crackle out through the back of my head as my breath disappeared and my thoughts ceased. I was surely gone or, perhaps, more present than I had ever been. Was it enlightenment? Nirvana? Transcendence?

As I sailed through time and space, beyond thought and feeling, a familiar sound called me back to the room from where I had launched myself. I began to hear clicks and murmurs, whispers and shuffling and soon, distinct voices. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes to find myself surrounded by dozens of German tourists flashing cameras at me, dumbfounded by my presence, attire and what must have seemed to be very strange behavior. I silently stared at them and said nothing. Was the profound light of my experience nothing more than flash bulbs from tourists’ cameras? How long had they been there? How long had I been “gone?” I stood up and the sea of Germans parted as I walked out the door.

Rabbis are literally translated as teachers. I learned (often the hard way) that I had a tendency to want my teachers to take me all the way rather than point me in the right direction and allow me to figure out the specifics, even if it meant getting lost along the way. I remember being a boy waiting for my dad to come home from work so he could “help” me with my math homework. It was all strategic as he’d be exhausted from a long day and not have the energy to “teach” so he’d simply fill in the answers out of frustration.

I sat in the Southwestern desert initially with the same desire that my teacher would simply fill in the blanks for me. He was not that kind of teacher. He left my ass in the middle of nowhere and knew that I had to struggle through a narrow passage in order to emerge a stronger, more confident young man. He was a spiritual midwife of sorts, like Shifra and Puah, the midwives who secretly saved the first born Hebrew slaves from instant murder, hiding babies or even sending them down the river in basket boats in hope that someone would take pity on them and rescue them from certain death.

Like Rabbi Moses, we all have to find our way to personal growth and enlightenment through a combination of grace, hard work, intention and focus. Like Rabbi Jesus, we all have to move through the world believing that transcendence is our birthright, that we are all children of the Breath of Life and that loving kindness is the bridge between here and there, inside and outside.

So, may you be blessed this holy week with the chutzpah to believe that you are both the leader AND the follower of many. May you trust from deep within your being that YOU are the resurrection and the life; there is no separation between some transcendent being and your essence, there is only the experience of being in this body at this time. And, if these words make you uncomfortable, I invite you to ask yourself what really makes you uncomfortable, the thought that it can’t be true or the thought that it just might be true?

I was turned on to vegetarianism in college at my co-ed, co-operative living situation. There were 30 of us living at the “Peace House” and we took turns cooking communal meals each night, all veg. I liked the idea of communal living and with tensions brewing in Iraq (it was 1990) the thought of a group of students aligned around creating more love in the world was very appealing.

I grew up eating meat (chicken, beef, bacon, fish)  just about every day of the week and was super attached to it! The idea of a vegetarian diet was more romanticized than an easy switch. I found myself eating big, whole foods dinners at the co-op and while I no longer felt hungry, I still craved roasted flesh. I was programmed (like so many of us) to believe that a meal was not complete, couldn’t be satisfying, without some type of animal protein.  It was more than a little embarrassing but I sometimes found myself drive to Burger King after house meals to grab a cheeseburger. Yet, the “seed” was planted and I was already more open to non-carnivorous alternatives.

However, I still resisted the “full monty” until I went to the Middle East for a year after college. I was walking down a cobblestone street in the Old City of Jerusalem when a religious man in white stopped me and gently touched my arm. He peered deep into my eyes with his bright, blue Paul Newman’s and slowly shook his head with great concern.

“Brother, you’ve got to stop the dairy. You’re killing yourself!” And here I had figured my big problem was simply cutting out meat. Thus was my introduction into self-directed Macrobiotics. I started to run with the dangerous crowd of macrobiotic, Orthodox Jews. Who knew there was an even tinier sub-group of the sub-group?!? I found there were hundreds of  observant folks in Jerusalem who took their religious adherence to include a healthy, sustainable diet that is in sync with the rhythms of nature.

That year I learned a great deal about how my relationship to food is deeply connected to my emotional life, my socio-political world and even the metaphysical. When I returned to the States, I brought with me a new sense of my connection to food and an affinity for Tamari roasted pumpkin seeds.

Lots of friends and family did not (and many still don’t) understand the point of removing animal products from my diet. There were times when I argued and fought about it, provided supporting materials and links, and yet in the end, I find the most peaceful approach is simply smiling.

One of the things I have learned in my life is that whenever I feel the need to convince someone else about something, I am already on shaky ground within my own being. Whether it is politics, social justice, faith or even food, if I need to convince you that I’m right, I’m wrong. If someone is interested in what I feel or what I believe, they can ask for more information.

So, I smile at the comments, breathe deeply and continue to enjoy my seitan. As the savvy vegetarian suggests, I’m counting on the hundredth monkey effect in the hope that more and more people will just consider removing meat from their diet one day a week!

Macrobiotic actually means “big life” and it seemed consistent with my intention for the type of existence I wanted. Since my time in Jerusalem, now more than two decades, I have delved deeply both into Macrobiotic living as well as the  McDonald’s Life. I have been lean and fit for some time, as well as soft and obese. Periodically,  I am able to maintain a macrobiotic diet for one or two years, amassing an array of jars filled with seeds, seaweed, dried shitakes, and grains. In fact, I have never felt more alive, more energetic and more healthy than those periods on a primarily macrobiotic diet and lifestyle. I love the rigidty of it! I love knowing that there is a very limited array of foods I can eat. Like Temple Grandin and her cattle chute, I feel contained by it…

The problem has been that it can be so restrictive and extreme that I find myself eventually resenting it and craving chocolate cake, pizza ( I mean, a whole pizza) or even barbecued chicken. Yet, as it is once again a new year, I broke out the brown rice and seaweed in the hope that this is my year. Back to basics. Right?

A great resource for the macrobiotic  lifestyle is anything by Michio Kushi and Jessica Porter’s Hip Chick’s Guide to Macrobiotics.

Being a vegetarian isn’t considered as far “out there” as it used to be: according to a 2008 study from Vegetarian Times, 3.2 percent of Americans are vegetarian, .5 percent are vegan, and 10 percent say they follow a largely vegetarian-inclined diet. Whether you are interested in eating less meat and animal products (or cutting them out altogether) for ethical, health or environmental reasons, here are the basics of vegetarianism:
1. Vegetarian: This term basically describes a person who does not eat poultry, meat, seafood or fish.
2. Pescatarian/ Semi-Vegetarian: A person who eats dairy products, poultry (including eggs) and fish, but does not eat any other animal flesh or products.
3. Ovo-Lacto-Vegetarian: Someone who eats eggs and milk, but doesn’t eat any other animal products.
4. Ovo-Vegetarian: A person who eats eggs but no other animal products or flesh.
5. Lacto-Vegetarian: Someone who eats milk but no other animal products or flesh.
6. Vegan: Vegans do not knowingly eat or wear any animal flesh, products or by-products. Some vegans also don’t consume yeast or honey, and often opt not to wear clothing and accessories made from animals, although a recent piece I stumbled on suggests (rightfully) that it isn’t really feasible to be a vegan anymore in this day and age…I have been vegan for several years of my life and it is in many ways more challenging for me than being macrobiotic. Vegans don’t have an easy time eating out and I LOVE eating out.

If you are considering a change in your diet that excludes or limits animal products, be sure to take appropriate supplements that can supply essential vitamins, minerals and fats that are typically provided by animal-based sources.

Want to Eat Less Meat? I’m sure you’ve all seen the photos that Manhattan artist Sally Davies captured of the same McDonald’s Happy Meal photographed each day for 6 months without any visible change.

Whether you want to minimize your consumption of animal products or eliminate it altogether, there are hundreds of alternatives to fast food and even over-produced, genetically modified slow food. In their place? Completely satisfying alternatives, from beans and legumes to whole foods.

I’d be a big (fat) liar if I said that I eat a perfectly healthy diet every day and that I haven’t enjoyed any meat from time to time. In fact, it has been a tremendous challenge for me in the past two decades as I have learned so much about the food I eat and still make unhealthy decisions sometimes. I have to be one of the most well-informed overweight people in the world. However, the dialogue is in place and I tend not to stray for too long if I find myself on a bender.

For now, even choosing healthier alternatives a couple days a week not only makes me feel better, it is better for the planet.

We are hungry, all of us.

Feed me, please. I’m in need of your… touch.

The physical experience of intention activating your body to interact with mine is something most of us never get tired of. We can feel anxious, uncomfortable, scared even- but beneath the defense mechanisms, we want it. Touch me, hold me, just graze your hand on my shoulder, but touch me.

I’m not the same without it and I’m not the same with it. Physical contact transforms me. It illuminates the dark places within my being; the shadowy, whispy caverns that get accustomed to perma-dusk. When I am open to receive the magic embedded in your touch I can feel the cells deep inside leap towards each other, dancing in the sprinkler like kids on a hot summer day. Life is beautiful when it is tactile.

I experimented with Orthodoxy once upon a time. For a year I mindfully moved through the world abstaining from physical contact with members of the opposite sex and it was profound- profoundly troubling. While it was wonderful to expand my willingness to give and receive physical contact with men, the absence of the soft, energetic graze of a woman was intensely present. The power of a good shoulder squeeze and the firmness of a huggable greeting was wonderful from the men I lived and learned with on a daily basis, but the loss of female contact while manageable, became something I decided was not something I’d ever want to live without. Never again.

She was a cute, Macrobiotic, Orthodox woman and it seemed the whole physical touch interdiction thing was getting under her skin as well. A few weeks of sharing smiles, giggles and Tamari roasted pumpkin seeds and it was on. As the sun headed down behind the olive trees, she guided me up the back stairs of an old Armenian spice shop to the roof. We stood and held each other for half an hour as the pink and gray of dusk wove a tapestry of touch into our lives once again. No kisses, No groping. No need. It was sublime and we soaked it up until we were good and done.

I never again voluntarily abstained from touch. There have of course been some “dry spells” here and there but it is something I’m acutely tuned in to as a need that can not ever be satiated. An itch that I will scratch until the cows come home.

I was speaking to someone at the airport this morning about the new, more “invasive”  TSA pat down security screenings at U.S. airports and her response struck me: “I think it is ridiculous that so many people are upset about it. It’s free touch! Who cares who’s touching me? Who can’t use a little feel on a stressful day of connecting flights?” Makes a person think twice before jumping to speed dial an attorney over the governmental grope.