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The importance of spiritual growth
The importance of spiritual growth
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Under Jewish tradition, boys are given Bar Mitzvahs upon reaching the age of thirteen (the female variety is a Bat Mitzvah). Typically, Bar Mitzvahs are hosted in synagogues and require substantial interaction with a rabbi. For my Bar Mitzvah, however, my family found an alternate route. Instead of at our synagogue, my Bar Mitzvah would be at an excavated archaeological site in Israel. I quickly felt guilty for agreeing to this arrangement. I had long been dreading the arduous preparation that my synagogue required for Bar Mitzvahs, but now it seemed that extensive Talmudic study would not accompany my transition to adulthood. Most of the work associated with my Bar Mitzvah would consist of learning to read my parsha (a Torah portion, …show more content…
Upon arriving at the base of the plateau, my mother, who is a fan of hiking, ordered that we transport ourselves to the fortress by foot rather than avail ourselves of a cable car. As I trudged upwards, I watched my brothers and parents fall far behind me. Once I reached Masada, I took a seat on a rock near the mouth of the trail and turned to assimilate the surroundings of my elevated position. A vast, barren, variegated landscape greeted me; amid the desert lay the Dead Sea, which from my perspective was no more than an unobtrusive interlude to the general bleakness. I wondered what I had done to merit seeing such splendid scenery. When my family finally joined me—fifteen minutes after the Bar Mitzvah had been slated to begin—, I said, “Look! We should have taken the tram. Now we are late.” My investment in the upcoming event, however, was insufficient for our tardiness to produce any real distress in me. A rabbi met us at the site, and it was he who was responsible for the majority of the tasks that a Bar Mitzvah entails (a portion of which my Bar Mitzvah skipped); I saw his presiding role as a sign of my dereliction. We located the room that we had reserved among the ruin—a room with red, stone walls, small holes as windows, and a roof that shielded occupants from the sun. I positioned myself at the pulpit alongside the rabbi, and my parents and
Walking into Walnut Hills High School right now would have anyone thinking the just walked into the middle of a tornado. Everyone you look there are students running in and out of doors, in and out of cars, and most certainly either turning in missing assignments or retaking tests. There is only one way for you to explain all this ciaos, Senior Year, the year that all teens await with so much excitement and ambition and the year that every single hour long study dates pays off. For the class of 2021 this isn’t just their final year at Walnut Hills this is the year that friends separate and head off to their different university to follow their dreams.
Standing in line at 9:13am the first person there all alone. But I did not feel alone. The glow of the pool illuminated by the first rays of sunshine reflecting off of it. As I stood at the main entrance, outside of this enormous building waiting for the 120 seconds that had to pass before I entered this structure immersed in my people’s history.
When he was young, Mark would run up and down these stone tunnels. There were countless turns and dead ends to keep him happy for hours. Now, he trailed his hand on the sweating walls and breathed in the scent of wet rock with sad nostalgia. So much had happened since then and some days he wished he was still that six year old kid, without a care in the world.
'Wilson sat on the balcony of the Bedford Hotel with his bald pink knees thrust against the ironwork.' He looked out toward the ocean - past the spire of the church thrust into the sky in defiance of the uniform serrated, tin roof-line of the huts clustered around the shore, past the bronze glimmering naked bodies of the inhabitants toiling through the midday heat, toting woven grass baskets and gray baked clay urns upon their heads - to the tranquility that lay just out of grasp, toward the calm that rested just above the water and just below the sky; an ephemeral space one could put his finger upon on land but which always alluded one, slipping just out of grasp when upon the sea. A foreign ship in the bay began taking down the sails to anchor, awaiting another day of futile searches for hidden diamonds. The setting sun draped the tin roofs with a golden gilt which overflowed and dripped to the sand below, creating a landscape worthy of Midas himself, if only for a few seconds.
“No, they did not bury me, though there is a period of time which I remember mistily, with a shuddering wonder, like a passage through some inconceivable world that had no hope in it and no desire. I found myself back in the sepulchral city resenting the sight of people hurrying through the streets to filch a little money from each other, to devour their infamous cookery, to gulp their unwholesome beer, to dream their insignificant and silly dreams. They trespassed upon my thoughts. They were intruders whose knowledge of life was to me an irritating pretence, because I felt so sure they could not possibly known the things I knew. Their bearing, which was simply the bearing of commonplace individuals going about their business in the assurance of perfect safety, was offensive to me like the outrageous flaunting of folly in the face of a danger it is unable to comprehend. I had no particular desire to enlighten them, but I had some difficulty in restraining myself from laughing in their faces so full of stupid importance. I dareway I was not very well at that time. I tottered about the streets—there were various affairs to settle—grinning bitterly at perfectly respectable persons. I admit my behaviour was inexcusable, but then my temperature was seldom normal in these days. My dear aunt’s endeavours to `nurse up my strength´ seemed altogether beside the mark. It was not my strength that wanted nursing, it was my imagination that wanted soothing. I kept the bundle of papers given me by Kurtz, not knowing exactly what to do with it. His mother had died lately, watched over, as I was told, by his Intended. A clean-shaved man, with an official manner and wearing gold-rimmed spectacles, called on me one day and made me inquiries, at first circuitous, afterwards suavely pressing, about what he was pleased to denominate certain `documents´. I was not surprised, because I had had two rows with the manager on the subject out there. I had refused to give up the smallest scrap out of the package, and I took the same attitude with the spectacled man. He became darkly menacing at last and with much heat argued that the Company had the right to every bit of information about its `territories´. And said he, `Mr. Kurtz’s knowledge of unexplored regions must have been necessarily extensive and peculiar—owing to his great abilities and to the deplorable circumstances in which he had been placed: therefore--`I assured his Mr.
An enduring monument to his inadequacy to which he would employ a slumbering retreat. He would wrestle with his body for a brief respite from the perpetual torture that was his insomnia, tossing and turning over every inch of his bed west of the fissure that was once full of love, but never would he attempt to traverse it’s curves and corners for fear of falling into it’s deep, depressive vicinity. He lay there, awake again. His mind a highway of thoughts, only this highway had no lights, no exits, and no colour. He was stood resolute, immovable in the vast sea of movement. Surveying the surroundings that lay before him, he saw only mountainous regions of terrain, casting even more monstrous shadows over him. Each one taller than the last and twice as dark. Some would have the carved faces of past friends, frozen in a state of lament, both in time, and stone. The only solace in the midnight world was a single patch of firm, fresh grass, with a tasteful tartan picnic basket - ribbons and all. Entirely devoid of food, yet still somehow quenching his desires. A single ray of light in an otherwise nefarious expanse, shrouded in atrocities unfit even for the infernal realms of hell. The lighthouse in treacherous waters, guiding him to the reliable shores that are his most vivid and treasured
President Franklin D. Roosevelt once said, “ The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Clearly he had never had to step into Royalton High School at the start of seventh grade. I love school, but kids usually don’t enjoy waking up in the morning to realize that a) they’re starting seventh grade, b) they have to ride The Bus, c) it's at a new school, and d) they are the “new” kid. Being the “new” kid has both its pros and cons, mainly cons, but the one thing that is most definitely a con is the attention. I would be the new exhibit in the zoo, only this time the visitors get to poke me with a stick to figure out what the heck I’m supposed to be. Am I a lion? An owl? A platypus? Only time and countless annoying personal questions will tell.
“Mom, when I grow up, I’m moving to New York City!” I remember telling my mother at the tender age of twelve. That dream of living in the Big Apple stayed on the back of my mind until it finally became a reality. At was twenty years old, I was ready to come into my own, so I made one of the most significant decisions of my life; a decision that is most responsible for the evolvement of a young boy having to quickly become a man. I moved to New York City. Soon, I would learn that along with all the excitement and responsibilities associated with this new chapter of my life also came a ton of fear and many lonely nights. Fending for myself would be the only way to survive. After all, this was an enormous unfamiliar city
Growing up for me some would say it was rather difficult and in some ways I would agree. There have been a lot of rough times that I have been through. This has and will affect my life for the rest of my life. The leading up to adoption, adoption and after adoption are the reasons my life were difficult.
So the life of a Jew or prisoner had a very rough life living in a concentration camp. Could you imagine the pain that the guards went through? They had to watch people die and suffer. But they didn´t know what was going on at the time so they just done it so they could be paid. But this topic has taught me a lot about what the jews and other religious groups had to go through. So the Jews and other groups went through a lot but this was a huge time in history but I am very glad that I could be apart of the
I have tried to make both my school and my community a better place. I participate in a few group that try and help to better the community. First off, I am in National Honors Society. I volunteer with group activities and other volunteering opportunities such as unpaid elementary math tutoring. Second, I am almost finished my Eagle Scout Project, and this requires a lasting impression on your community. My project is about music and its effect on the elderly, and relating it to memory disorders, in hopes of improving their way of life. Third, most of my volunteering in the community is independent of an organization. I volunteer my violin skills to a group in need or a couple who does not have the money to pay some musicians. I donate my time
There was once this girl I knew in first grade. She wasn’t what you would call the perfect child. She used to talk all through class, not do her homework, and lie ALL THE TIME. She knew her parents would kill her if they knew what her life was like in school so she told them lies. She told them she has been getting excellent grades, she was the class and hall monitor, and even her teacher’s favorite student.
This war-torn land shows nothing but death and the dying. The ground is muddy from the rain, it’s dank and sodden. Up above the trench line is barbed wire and … nothing else. No birds, no animals … no people. A few dead bodies of the brave men going to assassinate the enemy by night fall, but stopped dead in their tracks, they got picked off by the sharpshooters. No! No one ever makes it! Never! There is a constant sound of gun blasts and the sound of explosions from the grenades. The dark is lit up by the flashes of the guns against the silver clouded sky. Nobody dares to look up for more than a few seconds otherwise they will be taken out.
My childhood was a playground for imagination. Joyous nights were spent surrounded by family at my home in Brooklyn, NY. The constantly shaded red bricks of my family’s unattached town house located on West Street in Gravesend, a mere hop away from the beach and a short walk to the commotion of Brooklyn’s various commercial areas. In the winter, all the houses looked alike, rigid and militant, like red-faced old generals with icicles hanging from their moustaches. One townhouse after the other lined the streets in strict parallel formation, block after block, interrupted only by my home, whose fortunate zoning provided for a uniquely situa...
I never really thought about where my life was going. I always believed life took me where I wanted to go, I never thought that I was the one who took myself were I wanted to go. Once I entered high school I changed the way I thought. This is why I chose to go to college. I believe that college will give me the keys to unlock the doors of life. This way I can choose for myself where I go instead of someone choosing for me.