Yom Kippur Reflections 5787/2026

Yom Kippur Reflections 5787/2026

Each year on Yom Kippur, I reflect on the lessons of the past year and the intentions I want to carry forward. This year, much of that reflection brings me back to my Judaism.

I have always been Jewish, but over the past year, I began asking a different question: What does it mean not only to be Jewish, but to live Jewishly?

I began lighting Shabbat candles. I took a class about Shabbat and experienced my first fully observant Shabbat. I deepened my relationship with Jewish prayer (davening) and explored emunah, a Hebrew word that encompasses faith and trust. I learned more about the rhythms of the Jewish calendar, from counting the Omer to discovering the meaning of Tu B’Av. I sought out Jewish creative and spiritual communities, traveled to New York with Souled, and eventually began studying Biblical Hebrew and pursuing deeper Jewish learning through ALEPH: Alliance for Jewish Renewal, a seminary and learning community.

These experiences have made Judaism feel less like something I simply identify with and more like something I actively live. Lighting Shabbat candles changes the rhythm of an ordinary Friday evening. Studying Hebrew allows me to look at words I have known for years and begin to understand them differently. Learning about prayer, holidays, and the rhythms of the Jewish calendar has deepened my connection to a tradition that has always belonged to me.

I felt that connection especially deeply when I recently found a High Holiday prayer book that belonged to my great-grandfather George. As I held it, I thought about his hands holding the same book and the prayers that have traveled through my family across generations.

Teshuvah, a central theme of Yom Kippur, is often translated as repentance, but more literally means return. This year, I have come to think of returning not as going backward, but as coming home with new understanding. We do not return empty-handed or unchanged. We bring our questions, experiences, and hopes with us.

This deepening connection has also taken place during a time of profound division. I have always been drawn to people from different cultures, backgrounds, and beliefs. My father used to say that my group of friends looked like the United Nations. Yet since October 7, I have also felt a stronger need to be around other Jewish people who understand why certain events, words, and conversations can feel deeply personal without requiring an explanation.

As I have been learning more about Yom Kippur, one detail has stayed with me: its confessions are written in the plural. Ashamnu means “we have sinned.” The prayer does not say, “They have sinned,” or even only, “I have sinned.” It asks us to stand together and say, “We.”

Yom Kippur is a serious day, centered on judgment and atonement. Yet the English word “sin” can sound harsh and final in a way that does not fully reflect the Jewish understanding. One Hebrew word used in Yom Kippur’s confessions is chet, which can mean “missing the mark.” Yom Kippur does not ask us to declare that we are bad people. It asks us to acknowledge that we are human, that we sometimes fall short, and that we are still responsible for making amends, returning to what matters, and trying again.

The use of “we” does not mean that every person is responsible for every wrongdoing or that all actions are equally harmful. To me, it suggests that responsibility is both personal and collective. We are responsible for our own choices, but we are also part of families, communities, and a larger world that we help shape.

At a time when people are so often divided into “us” and “them,” Yom Kippur asks us to begin with “we.” It challenges us to consider not only what others have done, but what each of us can do differently to create more understanding, compassion, and connection.

As I enter Yom Kippur, I keep thinking about what it would mean to carry the word “we” beyond the prayer book. For me, it begins with recognizing when my desire to be understood prevents me from fully listening. It also means holding my convictions without losing my curiosity and remembering that understanding does not require agreement. We may not heal every division, but we can take responsibility for what we bring into our relationships, our communities, and the world.

Intentions for 5787

Make More Space for Writing and Meaningful Conversations

Writing has always been one of the ways I reflect, make sense of my experiences, and connect with others. This year, I want to blog more consistently and continue my Empowering Interview Series.

Become More Involved in Interfaith Work

I want to become more involved in interfaith work by contributing to conversations, programs, and projects that bring people together across religious differences. I hope to help create spaces where people can learn from one another and feel seen, heard, and that they belong.

Continue Discovering What It Means to Live Jewishly

I want to continue exploring my Jewish identity by learning Hebrew and deepening my connection to Shabbat, prayer, and community. I want to keep asking questions, trying new practices, and remaining open to where this path may lead me.

Keep Showing Up When It Feels Uncomfortable

I have already shown myself that I can step into unfamiliar situations and take on new roles even when I feel nervous or unsure. This year, I want to remember that discomfort is not a reason to step back. I can feel uncomfortable and still move forward.

As I enter 5787, I carry deep gratitude for the rich Jewish experiences of the past year, for the people who have shown up for me, for my family and loved ones, and for my body, which continues to carry me through each day.

I also carry prayers for healing and renewed strength; guidance toward the life and work I am meant to build; health and well-being for the people I love; clarity where there is uncertainty; and the ability to release what I no longer need to carry. I hope the coming year brings greater connection, purpose, and peace.

I’d love to hear from you. What are you grateful for right now, and what do you hope the months ahead will bring?

May 5787 be a year in which we return not only to ourselves, but also to one another.

For those observing Yom Kippur, G’mar Chatimah Tovah, meaning, “May you be sealed for a good year.” And to everyone reading, may the months ahead bring you closer to what matters most.

Until next time,

Xoxo TheZenFashionista

What We Carry Forward: Natasha Gregson Wagner on Memory, Motherhood, and L’Amour Mère

A Mother’s Day conversation on love, legacy, and the ways memory continues to shape us

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With Mother’s Day approaching, my conversation with Natasha Gregson Wagner felt especially meaningful.

Natasha, the daughter of Natalie Wood, spoke about motherhood, memory, creativity, and the ways love continues to shape us long after someone is gone.

We talked about her fragrance line, now relaunched as L’Amour Mère, along with family traditions, handwritten letters, old Hollywood films, and what it means to become a mother when your own mother is no longer here on earth.

The thread through all of it was memory. Not as something distant, but as something you carry.

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Where the fragrance began

When I asked Natasha what inspired her to create the original Natalie fragrance, she described it simply.

“It was just like an act of gratitude,” she said. “An act of love.”

It also came from something she was navigating at the time.

“Sometimes when you have a child, you need a model to be a mom,” she said. “And because my mom wasn’t here on earth anymore, I didn’t have that model.”

She wasn’t saying it dramatically. It felt more like something she had to sit with.

“I was curious how I was going to move forward as a mother without her.”

What she came to understand changed that.

“What I learned was that those eleven years I had with her were enough time for me to know how to mother my daughter.”

From there, the fragrance became a way to express something that didn’t really have a direct outlet.

“I just wanted to thank her in a more esoteric way,” she said, “through the ethers, through space and time.”

“I think of fragrance as something that can break through time.”

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A story told through scent

Natasha spoke about fragrance as a form of storytelling.

“There’s storytelling with film and with art and with books,” she said. “So it’s fun to think about telling a story through scent notes.”

That personal starting point is also what allows other people to connect to it.

“When you create something that’s super personal or specific, it becomes universal.”

I shared that I feel especially connected to the rose scent because my grandmother’s name was Rose, and she loved the scent of rose. Wearing it makes me feel calm and connected.

Natasha immediately understood.

“That’s what I love,” she said.

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L’Amour Mère

The fragrance line is now being relaunched as L’Amour Mère, meaning “mother love.”

The original Natalie scent remains unchanged. La Rose has been renamed C Love, and a third fragrance, Lyublyu, has been added.

Natasha explained that when she first created the fragrance, she wasn’t thinking of it as a business.

“It was more of a creative offering,” she said.

Over time, she realized she wanted to continue it, but in a way that reflected where she is now.

“I’m not the same person that I was when I started it,” she said. “I’ve grown, and I want it to reflect who I am today.”

“I’m an entrepreneur now,” she added. “And I feel proud of that.”

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The new scent

One of the additions to the relaunch is Lyublyu, inspired by her grandmother.

She described it as honey-forward, with notes like honeysuckle, jasmine, sandalwood, patchouli, and incense.

The scent is tied to a memory from when she was a child living in the South of France.

She and her grandmother would walk through a small town and up toward a church. Along the way, there were layers of scent. Inside, she remembers incense and the smell of old wood.

That is what the fragrance is meant to evoke.

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Commemorating moments

When I asked about traditions she’s carried into her own life, Natasha went back to how her parents approached celebrations.

“My parents celebrated everything,” she said. “Christmas, Easter, birthdays, and made each of us feel really special.”

There was also something quieter that stayed with her.

“For birthdays or Christmas, my mom would give me a book, write me a letter, and usually a piece of jewelry.”

Then she summed it up in a way that felt like the center of everything we had been talking about.

“If I just boil it down, it’s about commemorating moments and time in a way that feels beautiful and special.”

Natasha still has all the letters her parents wrote to her. And when Clover was little, she began writing notes to her and saving them.

“I think those things really matter,” she said.

That idea carries through everything. Letters. Traditions. Fragrance. Memory.

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Between two worlds

Natasha grew up between Los Angeles and South Wales.

“Going to the UK in the 80s felt like landing on the moon,” she said.

She described it as a completely different world, shaped by what she called “Margaret Thatcher’s England,” where her father and stepmother lived on a farm in South Wales.

“There was so much consistency and stability,” she said. “I learned how to cook in their kitchen, and we had family dinner every night. My dad would go to the market.”

It stood in contrast to her life in Los Angeles.

“I got the best of both worlds,” she said. “It helped me understand that the life I was living in Los Angeles wasn’t really a normal life.”

That experience shaped her ability to adapt.

“I became very much of a shape shifter,” she said. “I adapted easily.”

It also shaped how she sees daily life now.

“I truly believe that the day-to-day activities of life are essential for spiritual growth and emotional stability.”

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Family and loss

Natasha has five sisters and described herself as close with them, while also acknowledging the complexity of those relationships.

“We’ve worked on our relationships,” she said. “They’re all different.”

She also spoke about the impact of losing her mother.

“We were all deeply affected by the loss of my mom,” she said. “Even my siblings who she wasn’t their mom.”

She described herself as someone who values harmony.

“I’m a Libra, so I like harmony,” she said. “I like to talk about feelings, but not everybody likes to do that.”

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What she learned from her mother

When I asked about a life lesson that still guides her, Natasha shared something she was told when she was pregnant.

“I remember asking, what do I teach my child? I don’t even know what to teach.”

The response stayed with her.

“You don’t need to teach your child anything. You are the example for your child. How you behave in the world is what your child will learn from you.”

That became a way of understanding what she had learned from her own mother.

“I observed her being kind and gracious,” she said. “I observed her celebrating the arts.”

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Growing into herself

Natasha also spoke about the parts of life she didn’t get to go through with her mother, especially adolescence.

“That was a real period of insecurity for me,” she said.

She described what it was like growing up with a mother who had such a strong presence.

“It took me a long time to find my own self-worth in all of that.”

“I think she would have walked that walk with me,” she said.

Instead, she had to figure much of that out on her own.

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Film, music, books, and everyday life

When I asked about her mother’s films, she said it’s difficult to choose just one.

“I don’t have a favorite,” she said. “I just wish she got to make more.”

She mentioned several, including West Side Story and Inside Daisy Clover, and talked about watching Splendor in the Grass with her daughter at the TCM Film Festival.

“Depending on what’s going on in your life or in the world, certain films can reflect that back to you in a way that feels nourishing or comforting or satiating,” she said.

Music is part of that landscape too. Natasha described her taste as rooted in the 70s, drawn to folk and classic rock.

She also spoke about her love of reading. She mentioned authors like F. Scott Fitzgerald, including The Great Gatsby and Tender Is the Night, along with books like Light Years by James Salter and Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner. She said she recently read All the Way to the River by Elizabeth Gilbert, and spoke about how much she values books that explore emotion, grief, and the inner life.

She described herself as a seeker, someone drawn to learning, reflection, and the emotional layers of life.

Reading is something she now shares with her daughter as well.

“My mom loved to read to me,” she said. “I definitely became a reader because of her.”

She mentioned giving her daughter a memoir, Into the Magic Shop by James R. Doty, continuing that tradition.

And in everyday life, that same balance carries through at home. She described cooking with Clover, from arugula salads with homemade dressing to simple, comforting meals like pasta with vodka sauce and chicken meatballs. They’ve also made things together like strawberry ice cream, blending frozen strawberries with yogurt and tahini, a mix of creativity and ease in the kitchen.

Certain foods carry memory as well.

“Borscht reminds me of my mom,” she said. “Shepherd’s Pie reminds me of my daddy Gregson.”

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Grounding

When things feel overwhelming, Natasha keeps it simple.

“Meditation, nature, dog walks, conversations with people I love.”

She also views self-care in a broad way.

“It can be lunch with a good friend,” she said. “It doesn’t have to be something big.”

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There was a sense of continuity in the way Natasha spoke about her mother.

Not just in what she said, but in how she weaves those memories into her daily life.

The letters she kept.
The ones she now writes.
The way she builds meaning into small moments.

It’s all part of how she carries that legacy forward.

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If you’re interested in exploring the L’Amour Mère fragrances, you can use my code, “LOVE26” at checkout for 20% off your purchase!  https://lamourmere.com/

Yom Kippur Resolutions 5786/2025

Each year on Yom Kippur, I take time to reflect on the lessons I’ve learned and the intentions I want to carry forward. It is a day of atonement, but also a day of clarity, an opportunity to reset, release what no longer serves me, and step into a new chapter. Writing these reflections has become a tradition for me, one that reminds me growth is ongoing and that each year offers a chance to begin again.

These are some of the life lessons I have learned in the past year.

Lesson 1: Self-Awareness

“Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response.” – Viktor Frankl

Self-awareness has always felt like a part of me, something I recognized early in life. At the same time, it’s something that has to be continuously cultivated. This past year brought circumstances that made me question whether I still had access to that part of myself. What I’ve come to realize is that awareness never leaves; it only asks to be remembered.

It is about being conscious, about remembering that in every moment, I have the freedom to choose a new response.

Self-awareness is what helps me notice when I’ve been caught in old patterns, and what reminds me that conditioning can also be unconditioned. I don’t have to keep repeating what no longer serves me. I can pause, notice, and choose differently.

There is comfort in knowing that the awareness I need is never gone.

Lesson 2: Safety

“True safety is not found in walls or distance, but in connection.”

For much of my life, I’ve carried an invisible rule: that safety had to be earned. If I worked hard enough, stayed vigilant enough, or proved myself enough, then maybe I could feel secure. At the same time, I’ve also been quick to trust, because my instinct is to see the best in people.

Both ways were rooted in searching for safety in the wrong places; either by guarding myself too tightly or by giving my trust away too quickly. What I’ve come to understand is that safety is not a prize at the end of effort. It’s something I’m allowed to claim simply because I am here.

It lives in steady presence, in trust, and in the kind of connection that allows me to breathe easily. 

Lesson 3: Worth & Love

“Love is not found in intensity, it’s found in the steady, ordinary moments.”

Worth is not something I have to prove, and love is not something I have to chase. For so long, I equated love with intensity: the highs, the lows, the extremes. But I’ve learned that real love is gentler than I once imagined. It is steady. It is safe. It meets me in closeness and in joy.

Love is not about doing or earning. It is about being. And my worth, just like love, exists simply because I do.

Love reveals itself in the ordinary. It lives in the small gestures, the daily rhythms, the laughter that lingers after a conversation. It doesn’t need extremes to be real; it is proven in presence. And the more I rest in that truth, the more I see that my worth is constant, steady, and already enough.

Lesson 4: Fear

“Understanding fear is crucial to prevent it from controlling you.” 

This year, I’ve been paying more attention to fear. Not the kind that comes in obvious ways, but the quiet patterns, the hesitation, the silence, the holding back when I want to speak up about what I need.

Fear shifts when I bring it into the light. When I name it, I create space to choose differently. I don’t have to let it decide for me. My voice matters, and my needs matter, even in the moments when fear would have me believe otherwise.

I’ve discovered that when I listen closely, fear points me toward growth. It shows me the places where I feel most vulnerable, but also where I long to expand. By noticing it without judgment, I can choose to move through it instead of letting it keep me small. Each time I do, I reclaim a little more freedom to live with intention and to honor what matters most.

Resolutions for the year 5786

Continue learning and growing in my faith

Judaism has always been a part of me, but in the last year I’ve found myself craving more connection. Whether through temple services, prayer, or personal study, I want to stay open and curious about my faith. Learning isn’t just about knowledge, it’s about feeling closer to G-d and grounded in who I am. This year, I want to keep leaning into that connection and letting it bring me strength and clarity.

Read more

Reading has always been a source of learning and joy for me. It’s not about the quantity or how many books I finish. I want to bring back the feeling of learning and inspiration that reading gives me. This year, I will create intentional time for it.

Relaunch my interview series

Last year, I wrote about wanting to start an interview series on my blog. I was focused on other things, and it didn’t come together then, but the idea stayed with me. Now I’m in a place where I can give it the attention it deserves. I’ve completed a new interview that I plan to share during the holiday season, and I want this to mark the true beginning of the series. My hope is for it to become a steady part of my blog; a space to share meaningful conversations that inspire and connect.

Prioritize movement

Movement has become an important part of how I care for myself. I feel the difference when I’m consistent, and I want to hold onto that. This year, it’s not only about tracking progress, but about building steady habits that help me feel strong, grounded, and energized. I want movement to remain a natural and supportive part of my routine.

Allow rest without guilt

I have a tendency to feel like I always need to be doing something, as if my worth is tied to my productivity. This year, I want to allow myself to rest without guilt and to trust that rest is not the absence of growth, but a vital part of it. By giving myself permission to slow down and recharge, I can remember that I am enough even when I’m not in motion.

As I step into this new year, I want to hold on to these lessons and resolutions as gentle reminders. Growth isn’t about perfection, but about staying present, choosing with intention, and continuing to show up; for myself, for the people I love, and for what I believe in. My hope for 5786 is to move forward with openness, with faith, and with a heart that keeps learning.

And my hope for you is the same: that you find safety where you need it, remember your worth when it feels uncertain, and give yourself permission to rest in love and faith. 

Wishing you a meaningful, healthy, and sweet year ahead. May this be a year of clarity, courage, connection, and gentleness with ourselves and each other.

G’mar Chatimah Tovah!

May you be inscribed in the book of life!

Until next time,

Xoxo TheZenFashionista