Monday, March 12, 2007
Write on, baby.

Tonight I went to an event featuring a renowned graphologist. He happens to be a Lubavitcher, and a member of our community. He is known for accurate analysis, and for helping people correct personality flaws he detects in their handwriting.

He asked us to write a few sentences on a piece of paper (I wrote 4) and sign our names.

After I wrote mine he started speaking about a couples event he did once. He had the couples write on the same sheet of paper. A man with a full beard approached with his very modest wife, and handed him their paper. He looked at the paper and said, "Something is very wrong between you two. There's something really wrong here!" The couple quietly admitted they had stopped keeping taharas hamishpocha. He explained that when a person is doing something wrong, it can manifest in their handwriting.

So I was a little freaked out that this guy could "read between the lines." I felt very nervous that I had signed my name to my paper. What would he say to me?

The way it worked was that each person's paper had a number, and he would call the number out and give his assessment aloud to the group. Each person could hear her own analysis, and yet remain anonymous. I was number eight. After reading about 5 or so he took a break, as a guest speaker had arrived. Zalman was kvetchy, so I made my way into the hostess' kitchen with him. Lo and behold, there was the graphologist with all our papers!

Of course I asked him to read mine (wouldn't you?). He picked up the paper and raised his eyebrows. "You're very smart," he said, shaking his head and raising his eyebrows some more. "Very, very smart. What does your father do?" (my father?! he's a bi-polar kazoo player!) "He's a book salesman." "And your mother?" "She's a medical assistant. Phlebotomy, that sorta thing." "That's where it's coming from," he said. I heartily disagreed, as neither of my parents are particularly intelligent. But I didn't say so. He went on. "You're too holy." (Since when is that a bad thing?) "What I mean is, you set your standards too high. You're a perfectionist." He went on to tell me I needed to accept more, and have more faith in G-d. And not to be so strict with my kids. And to go easier on Yaakov. "Overall, it's lovely writing."

I asked, "Doesn't my writing indicate to you that I'm an anxiety maniac?" He took the paper back and scanned it carefully.

"I don't see that at all."


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My Photo Name: Fancy Schmancy Anxiety Maven
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