When I visit Yale, I’m immediately inspired by the architecture. As an undergraduate, I couldn’t believe that this was my home. The intricate details of the Gothic and Georgian buildings, with their soaring arches and ornate facades, made me feel like I was traveling through history. Walking through the courtyards and along the pathways, I am constantly reminded of the generations of scholars who have walked these same paths before me.
On my trip to the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, I learned about how important time was for navigation. In the 1700s, sailors had no reliable way to determine their exact position at sea, which often led to ships being lost and many lives being endangered. The primary challenge was determining longitude, as latitude could be measured with relative ease using the stars.
In The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, Stephen Covey emphasizes that to communicate effectively, we must “Seek First to Understand, Then to Be Understood.” This principle is essential for building strong relationships. Covey teaches that empathic listening involves deeply understanding another person’s perspective before offering your own input, which fosters trust and effective communication.
A study published last year quantifies how social media platforms like TikTok create digital peer pressure and use it to their own advantage. Kids feel compelled to use these platforms because their friends are on then even though it makes them feel worse.
Why are our kids using social media so much when there are piles of evidence that it’s bad for them? This isn’t the classic generational clash where parents disapprove of the new-fangled gadgets the kids have. Instead, it’s about how these tools are hijacking their social worlds and enabling a new form of peer pressure.
I am convinced that no matter how good a teenager is, they still have an obligation to act out against their parents. It’s like they are saying, “Look, Mom and Dad. You know I’m a good kid. I don’t want to be like this but I’m a teenager and teenagers have certain responsibilities.” It’s like they’re all part of some union. Here’s what I imagine that union would say:
This is my Thank You note to all of my classmates who made my 25th reunion so special.
Thank you for coming together to create such a wonderful event.I can’t get over the incredible feeling of connecting with old friends, building new connections, and feeling this pervasive sense of love and support. It was like stepping into a time machine, with memories of late-night conversations and impromptu adventures rushing back. It was more than a nostalgic trip down memory lane; it was a celebration of community, lasting friendships, and new connections. Each conversation, hug, and shared laugh reinforced a deep sense of belonging.
I have a love/hate relationship with those giant water slides, especially the ones that go straight down. The hate side is easy. They’re terrifying. At 46, I’m too old to be up there, teetering on the edge, staring down a steep drop that makes my heart race and my palms sweat. Sitting on the top of the slide, ready to plunge, I question my sanity. What am I doing here? I could be relaxing by the pool, enjoying a cold drink, instead of subjecting myself to this self-inflicted torture.
I’m writing this in response to a d’var Torah I heard at shul. The speaker said, “I love going to shul and feeling this sense of beauty and love. But I don’t think I believe in God.” I felt bad for her. Something was keeping her from believing in God that didn’t need to be there. I talked to her afterward and told her the following story.
People aren’t blank slates. While the old idea, famously critiqued by Steven Pinker in his book The Blank Slate, suggested we start with empty minds, ready to be filled, that’s not quite right. Pinker argues that humans are born with inherent traits, instincts, and predispositions that significantly shape our learning and behavior. So, while our experiences influence us, they don’t write on an empty slate but rather interact with our inborn capacities.
It’s tempting to want something so bad that you believe you can will it to happen. Instead of examining risks and continually examining and reducing them, projects just forge ahead. This happens at work all the time. But most interestingly, there are some things that humans want so bad, like peace, that we also think that our prayers might make this happen, even when complete peace is impossible.
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