40 years in the desert, they walked. Escaping slavery. Making life move in barren land. Lost? That’s the word on the street. But there was freedom in that. They had to keep on walking. In search for the Mother Land. New life on old grounds. An opportunity to recreate themselves. 


40 years in the desert, so that the generation that knew slavery will not step on the soil of the ancestors, as it opens itself up to the feet of their offsprings. 


They had to adapt. From slavery to freedom. From sitting in one place, to wandering. From letting bread rise, to not having time to wait, as the earth beneath them kept urging them to move. So they made matzah. 


My almond milk lattes are gone. And hemp milk in my coffee tastes like puke. And I need my coffee or else. Haven’t been to the store in two weeks. Not going any time soon. Order for delivery was placed a couple of days ago. Who knows when it’ll get here. 


I can no longer seem to be able to get eggs that are BOTH pasture raised AND organic for my family. Being vegan, that’s really important to me – at least the chickens roamed freely. If I finally manage to order them from Farm Fresh, they get here EITHER organic OR pasture raised. 




People are suffering. Sickness. Loss of income. Fear. No money to pay for groceries. Loneliness. Working the front lines. And I’m frustrated over the wrong kind of Himalyan Pink Salt, because I can’t get the one that I like anywhere, while listening to my three year old melting down because we haven’t had strawberries in three weeks.  


We usually spend our super secular Seder with my family in Israel. Today, like many jews around the world, we will have our seder on zoom. Morning here, evening there. My kids won’t eat my mom’s matzo ball soup. And I really don’t have the slightest idea what to make for this Seder breakfast. Toast? We have lots of bread in the freezer. 


People are not able to pay their rent. And I want to cry because I have nothing Passoverish to cook. I don’t have any matzah to spread some strange, secular Judaism over, and serve the kids. 


40 years of walking. No time to wait for bread to rise. Matzah was an invention of adaptation. 


Adaptation is the name of the game.


Are we going to transform? Are we willing to move with what moves us? Are we willing to adjust? Are we able to shift positions to receive life as it is, even as it plays out not as we thought it would/should/could? From this place of receptivity, as we let ourselves be changed, are we gonna create, generate, and restructure our world? Are we able to adapt?


Can’t have matzah for seder this year? Make something else! 


From privileged to present. From consumerism to creativity. From greed to generosity.   


Adaptation is how we survive. It’s how we thrive. It’s how we can rise empowered within circumstances in which we are seemingly helpless. It’s how we can find freedom within confinement. 


Adaptation is our sovereignty. This virus wears its crown. Are we gonna wear ours?


Happy Passover. 


How are you adapting to this new life? I really wanna know. Any new habits that you’ve adopted? Any patterns that you are happy to have broken? Please share here in the comments.