Deep Conversations

Explaining the world, and finding meaning, identity, purpose, through story.

A friend asked me the other day, in the middle of a deep and meaningful conversation, which identity comes first, Jewish or American.

Some of the amazing friends I spent time with in the UK, with whom I can be 100% myself

“Jewish,” I said, without thinking.

“But I wonder,” I added, “if all identity isn’t just built on storytelling?”

All my life, I’ve been included in beautiful rituals of Jewish observance (lighting candles, whispering Hebrew blessings over bread and wine, gathering with beloved family and friends to open gifts and recite stories of redemption and freedom and community). I’ve been told stories about who I am, who I come from, the long line of ancestors who fought to live and practice freely, who left inhospitable lands to find a place where no one was bothered (or at least less bothered) by their being different.

And in hearing those stories from the youngest age, I immersed in an identity that I was taught to claim as my own.

Isn’t that how all identity is formed? From story, handed down over time and generation, often without question?

some of the gorgeous and interesting sites along our journey

We are borne of a desire to belong to someone or some place, then cling to that person or place after years of stories hammered into us reinforcing that choice.

We were with friends in Cornwall, UK, who also live in Kosovo, and we drew parallels between the way Serbs and Albanians and Kosovans talk about place and heritage and history, and the way Israelis, Jews, Muslims, Palestinians, talk about place and heritage and history.

Story.

One day in London, I visited Kew Gardens with a dear friend, and we stopped in to gaze at the exhibit of botanical paintings by Marianne North. My friend said, “Before we could easily learn about the world, paintings like these were all we had to see the beauty of another place.”

Stories expanding our view of what is real.

The paintings crowded the walls from very close to the ground all the way up to the very high ceiling and even some on the ceiling itself. Everywhere you turned, there was a plant or a tree or a landscape showing you a beautiful piece of a land far away. And while I’ve seen some of those myself close up and in person, I felt a sense of awe for this long-gone person who considered it her mission to teach people that there was more than they once believed.

We cling to stories gifted to us by others—stories that define us and which we allow to shape our lives and our causes. Stories that undergird every goal and dream we yearn toward.

Do we ever stop to consider whether we want these stories to define us? Whether there might be other stories that could do just as good a job?

I have always been proudly Jewish, even as curiosity and wonder about other ways of believing and observing and being spiritual rucked up against my strongly planted Jewish identity. And I’ve always been proudly American even as I’ve felt embarrassed or ashamed at some of the very stupid things Americans do (especially abroad, like the couple at Stonehenge in the Union Jack beanies carrying the gigantic Stanley cups, I mean come on).

But I chose neither of my identities. Born into both, I remain fierce about protecting these parts of my story and in fact, I wonder who I would be without them.

Place & Identity

While visiting Cornwall, we wandered around Tintagel, the ruins of King Arthur’s castle. On the top of a windy moor, we entered a Celtic quiet space in an old, old church. The cold stone walls were still with silence, the narrow decorated glass windows beaming sunshine onto pews.

In a quiet corner room, an anchorite once sealed herself off from the world to pray and meditate. It was peaceful and so quiet and while I’d never do that—I like people and movement far too much—there is something in the idea of seeking direction and inspiration by stepping away from the madness of the world.

We live in a mad world today, but the world has always been mad. For all of recorded human history, people have sought to conquer other people. They’ve been murderous with greed, seeking validation that their way is the right way, the only way, and to do that, they follow a mission to eliminate, annihilate, conquer anyone who thinks or lives differently.

Which I personally find exhausting.

Right now, I have the very real feeling that we’re fighting for our lives—but haven’t we always been? And if not us, others.

Dan and I are watching a TV show called The Hour, and a character questions whether democracy might be an illusion. “This!” I exclaimed, pointing at the screen. “I wonder the same thing. What if we’ve never had a democracy? What if it’s all been an illusion?”

If there were no given or inherited identity, if place belongs to all and not just one, if any spiritual path is a valid path, how can we know ourselves? We depend on defining stories for a clear way forward, for a path of purpose, to know how we fit into the world.

Who am I if not a Jew?

Who am I if not an American?

Short of becoming an anchorite, I think the only answer is to withdraw from the trappings of systems and societies and focus on a minute moment: a walk in the forest, the sound of the sea, a deep conversation with a friend who accepts you fully as you are, the love that lives within the soul and communes in safety with other souls who see you, who hear you, who welcome you in no matter what you believe.

I fear our craziness, our hysteria, is only motivated by trying to hold up stories that we need to be TRUE.

What if instead, the focus became doing good, connecting in spirit and in fullness with others, listening well and taking action toward tikkun olam, the repair of the world?

Nothing more. And nothing less.

In Story We Trust

While I was away, I did a Zoom about my first novel, Woman of Valor, invited by the Mayerson JCC in Cincinnati to join author Jessica Saunders to discuss our stories about strong Jewish women. Thankfully, the UK hadn’t jumped ahead yet to Daylight Savings Time, so it was only four hours later, for the 7 pm ET event (11 pm start time for me).

In this conversation about our very different novels we found a kinship. Jessica and I are both writing about strong women who are proudly Jewish. Our characters face challenges that push them to think about who they are—and who they want to be. And there is love.

There’s nothing without love, right?

I was immediately drawn to Jessica, and reached out to ask if we might have a deeper get-to-know-one-another conversation after I’m back because you can never have too many deep and meaningful conversations. I want to know her and her writing process, to learn from and be inspired by another. To make a new friend who shares my values.

Aside from friends as the focus of this trip, there were books too. So many little bookshops down narrow old alleyways and of course, books I had to purchase to bring home. I was reading Penny Haw’s Follow Me to Africa, delighted by the London and Cambridge references as I visited those cities. And also the gorgeous depictions of Africa, a place I’ve never been but have yearned to visit since my early 20s. (I plan to go for my 55th birthday in 2026…)

So as I traveled another land, connected with wonderful friends, and lingered in deep and winding conversations that brought meaning and perspective and inspiration, I also immersed in story, going to places and meeting people who expanded my view of the world. I brought along my stories of identity, but they didn’t overwhelm the narrative. I could be me and visit sites with different histories, connect with wonderful people who see the world a shade differently than I do.

Isn’t that the beauty of this life? Reveling in dream and journey and kindred spirits.

What stories keep you afloat? What stories have changed your life? What stories might you conjure to summon a different path forward?

A Few Opportunities For You

There are still a few spots in my San Miguel de Allende Writers Retreat. Join me for a life-changing week! Details here.

This month, I am teaching a few writing classes. Sign up for Mining Your Life for Story (April 8th) or Demystifying Show, Don’t Tell (starts April 25th). And my popular Finding Your Voice class is back June 3rd.

Finally, my next FREE Writealong is this Sunday, April 6, at 11 a.m. ET. Add your name to the reminder list here.

Thank you for reading A Look in the Mirror, Lynne Golodner’s twice-monthly Substack. While this newsletter remains free to all, I am grateful for the support of my paid subscribers, who support a working writer. Please consider becoming a paid subscriber, or sharing this Substack with others who might enjoy it.