The Uriel Tree grew from ancient times to the present almost nowhere on earth. But where it took root, it grew hardy and strong, and could survive where others could not. It preferred, unbelievably enough, arid, marginal environs where not much else could survive. Curiously, it did not at all mind the wind, or even,…
Author: mira
Mira Z. Amiras is Professor of Comparative Religious Studies and founder of the Middle East Studies Program at San Jose State University. She is past-president of the Society for the Anthropology of Consciousness, and has served on the Executive Council of the American Anthropological Association. She is co-founder, with Ovid Jacob, of Beit Malkhut, a study group in Jewish sacred text. She's most attached to the creatures of her body and her household — first and foremost, her kids, of course: Michael and Rayna — and then the other folks large and small of various species, including Roshi and Vlad, a whole lot of hummingbirds, the old parrot who lives next door, and a beautiful garden that does what it will.
the rebbe’s queer daughters
—מגילת מלכה— This post marks the beginning of a new feature at beitmalkut.org and that is the inclusion of a tale that will take, I think, a very long time to tell. This is something I’ve been writing for my father. It started a number of years ago in time for him to read sections…
the tzaddik and the automobile of art maintenance
Everybody knows about the tzaddik’s cars. They were fairly famous. His vehicles impersonated him. They imprinted on him. Everybody remembers particular stories about his cars. Only I don’t know all of the stories. And that really bugs me. I guess what I really want is to know everything. Collect everything. Every shred of memory. I…
a good enough mother — or not
I’ve been thinking a lot about my parents. Not just my mother’s illness and my father’s death, but also about parenting altogether. How are we with our pups? How are we with our own children? How are we with the next generation, and the one after that and after that. The do-we-say-I-love-you post is part…
the end of memory
It’s a very simple proposition: what if we forget? What if we forget the details? What if we forget their faces? What if they become reductionist cartoons, selective memory, fixed inside our stories, unverified by outside confirmation? What if they were not at all as we remember them? What if we got the stories wrong?…
secrets of the tzaddik
He wanted it spelled ‘poppa’ not ‘papa.’ He was definitive about that, but not about much else. I always wondered why. It seemed anachronistic, that spelling, but maybe that’s the point. He was from a different era. How could he not be? Maybe the word ‘poppa’ made him feel warm and fuzzy, and maybe ‘papa’…
body, mind, and spirit or wobble, falter, and fall
There’s a class that I teach called Body, Mind, Spirit. Pretty funny, actually, to call it that but I couldn’t name the course what it really is: Integral Transformative Practice. I mean, nobody knows what that is, right? And what would that look like on a university transcript? But Body, Mind, Spirit is a reasonable…
a kaddish for the end of summer
It might not look like the end of summer to you, but it does to me. The Department secretary sent everyone an email saying that syllabi are due asap. Are mine done? Not a chance. But I’ve been thinking about it. Preparing to prepare to write them up. What have I done in preparation? Well….
precious daughters: a kaddish for Amanda Simmons
I was writing about books. Letting go of books. A preemptive kaddish for books turns out I couldn’t part with. The occasion was my daughter’s return from China. And driving up, by way of the Coast, from L.A. where her flight landed to S.F. for a short visit before heading East. I already wrote this…
a kaddish for old friends I’m ready to let go of. I think.
This isn’t my fault. Usually I take the blame for everything. Anything. But this one just isn’t my fault. I think. It’s clean up time, quick before the summer disappears. And I’m trying to prepare my precious daughter’s room for her ten-second visit home. Trying to make it special. Trying to make it serviceable beyond…