Five years of Rio man. Five years of joy, heart-bursting love, and honestly way too many sword fights. I love the shape of his thoughts, the size of his smirk, and the depth of his soul. To know him is to cherish him. Happy birthday angel 💙💙💙💙
I can easily imagine myself in the shoes of the October 7th victims, and I very often do. If I close my eyes, I’m in that same kibbutz kitchen, with the cold linoleum under my feet. I can hear the weighted thunk of the safe room door. I can see the panicked faces of my children. And I can feel the chilling inevitability of what’s to come.
The October 7th massacre opened my eyes to the white hot hatred that exists in this world. It’s hard to see the true outlines of an extremist ideology until it arrives at your doorstep. And a year ago today, it finally did. It arrived at the doorsteps of our best, brightest and most peaceful souls. And they were slaughtered, household by household, with an inconceivable kind of relish. This deliberate targeting of family units has since been coined Kinocide. A new crime against humanity, and exactly the kind of trauma that causes entire nations to circle the wagons and declare: “It’s us or them,” shattering any hope of a peaceful paradigm.
A year after this horrific day, peace is as elusive as it’s ever been. Israel is engaged in a multi-front war and has lost hundreds of beautiful young soldiers. Palestinians have been killed and displaced by the hundreds of thousands. The Lebanese are fleeing to an unwelcoming Syria. Iranians are bracing for impact. Jews around the world are living with a new-but-familiar dis-ease in their guts. And 101 of our treasured souls remain stashed deep underground in terror tunnels. It’s all too much to bear, and it’s hard to see where it all goes. You can’t kill your way to peace, but you also can’t let dangerous 6th century ideologies gestate and seek out strange bedfellows. I’m so humbled by the scale and complexity of this problem, as everyone should be. I don’t have answers, I just have prayers.
I pray that in the next 365 days, we bring our hostages home. I hope we achieve a lasting ceasefire. I hope the Islamic Republic and its many tentacles of terror endure fatal wounds. I hope Yahya Sinwar, a true architect of evil, gets what is coming to him. I hope Israel moves to elections and Bibi is finally put out to pasture. I hope we all find our way back to ourselves. 🤍💙
Leaving Tel Aviv dosed up on seratonin and enamored anew with this old flame of a town. I love the way this city summons my inner survivor. We arrive as milky babies and leave with senses sharp. Good girls gone baddies. It's not a comfortable place by any definition - impossibly expensive, dizzying in its chaos, hot, dense, and pulsing with misbehavior. There are people who react to it with appall, and then there are those who greet it with a glimmer in their eye. I fell into the latter camp when I first arrived in 2013 and I'm still in on the joke. I love that I'll always have this place to remind me that it's actually pleasure - not comfort - that's really worth coveting, and that rules are made to be ignored entirely. That permission to disobey is all I ever craved - the actual act of it I'm less interested in. Anyway, if you suspect you might be living life in a bit of a trance - one defined by routine or predicated on obligation- might I reccomend a shot of this city's medicine? Def not FDA approved but the results speak for themselves...
Happy 40th to my guy!! A lot can be said about Raz but we can all agree: he's one of one. An absolute scene-stealer, move-maker, dream-chaser. Electric mind and all-knowing soul. He brings more to the table than anyone I know and then he pulls up a seat and feasts with the best of 'em. Def some charismatic cult leader tendencies in there too but, hey, no one's perfect. 😘🤣 My life took a hard left the day we met but we've been swervin' together ever since. Lucky lucky lucky me. ❤️❤️ לעוד 40 שנה ביחד רזי
At three years old, Raphael has created a whole world within the confines of her imagination, and it’s there where she prefers to spend most of her time. (Who can blame her —it’s so brutal out here.) Whenever she’s overwhelmed, overtired, or just over *it*, I watch her disengage and float off to wherever that place is. She closes her eyes, starts dancing and singing, twirling and gesticulating, and completely tunes the rest of us out. I love and admire her ability to do this, to trade in one reality for another. She is utterly self-reliant in her pursuit of joy. I hope she never loses that roadmap to her happy place - whether it be material, imaginary… or somewhere in web3. Happy third birthday to my little weirdo wonder. I say it every year: never, ever change my girl!!
My Rio is one! One whole year. And what a year it's been. The year it all came together and fell apart a million times over.
Rio's arrival sent me journeying inward and it hasn't always been pretty in there. 😵💫 It's so perfect the way parenthood is designed to ruin you on its way to repairing you.
But nevermind all that because this post is about 🐳RIO🐳 who is the absolute man of a baby. Joyous, whip smart, and deep as a river, true to his name. I swear he looks at me with eyes that say "You people make this way too complicated."
Rio, we are unworthy of your magic. Happy birthday yeled, I love you somethin' special. ❤️🎂
