About

Everything is a story. We can tell stories that heal or stories that harm others and ourselves. Sometimes, we think we are telling one kind of story, when really, we are telling another.

The best way to tell a story that heals is together. Perhaps, it’s the only way.

I have a vague recollection of a conversation that I had before I came here. Someone, perhaps various someones, I don’t remember who, were insisting that I should not come to Earth. That I would not like it here. That there was a great deal of injustice, suffering and pain, and that I would hurt very badly. That I had been here before, and I couldn’t recall clearly what it was like.

Despite these admonitions, I insisted that I wanted to come. I wanted to experience the trees. And other things. I don’t remember exactly what those “other things” were, but I remember this: I was insistent. I was enthusiastic. I dearly wanted to live life.

For quite a long time, I experienced this world exactly as I had been told it was in that conversation.

And then, one day, something changed. The injustice, suffering and pain here were still abundant. But other things were abundant as well – things no one had told me about in that conversation. Friendship. Laughter. Embraces. Magic. The whirling dance of flies. The stunning beauty of boiling water. Tenderness. Gentleness. Love. A flower blooming on a tree for the first time in the tree’s ten years of life. The sun kissing the rice fields awake. A child shouting with glee that could not be contained, “LOOK AT THE MOON!” Poetry. Snails. The world was awash in wonder. The possibilities for joy and laughter were endless. Conversations could begin with uncertainty and end with deep connection.

And then another story was told to me. How my ancestors dreamed me into being. How they loved me to life and how much they wanted me to love life. To feel and live what they never had the chance to feel and live. To give them a reason to dance.

To give them a thousand reasons to dance.

The best way to connect with me is via email: chanabashah(at)gmail(dot)com. I do not use social media.

As for all the names associated with my writing and me:

Jennifer Bess Helfand is my American name and the one I used for the first 40+ years of my life. Chana Basha is the name I use now. It’s my Hebrew/Yiddish name, as well as the names of my great-grandmother and great-aunt (who I was named for), and the names I’ve always preferred, for many reasons. My bridge to reclaiming the names of my ancestors was a pen name I used for several years: Jordana Chana Mayim. Jordana is what my mom said she would have named me if she’d known how I was going to turn out. 😊 Mayim means water in Hebrew, and Hebrew is a language that, long ago, meant a great deal to me. We’re all made up of 60% water. That’s why I loved “water” as a last name. We all come from the same source.

Choosing to use names on a daily basis that I love and that mean so much to me was one of the best decisions I ever made. Our names should sound like music. When I told a friend I’d be using my great-grandmother’s name every day from now on, she said: Ask your great-grandmother how she feels about it, and listen for her reply.

I did. I heard birds singing.

May we live in such a way that our lives serve as love songs to all those who hear us.

A hug for those who need it (which is everyone...), in word and picture format...