There are few comparisons to the excitement and anticipation I feel when I open my mailbox and see a package. That excitement increases when I see it is jewelry. Rockbox is a subscription service that I signed up for about 5 months ago and I get that same feeling every time a new arrival shows up. What pieces will I get? Where can I wear it? Who will I show it to?
What is Rocksbox all about?
Rocksbox is a subscription jewelry rental service. As a subscriber I signed up to receive 3 pieces of jewelry per shipment. These pieces were put together by a designer based on my specified style. When I first signed up, I entered in my preferences such as: gold, silver or a combination of both; classic, trendy, modern, etc. Then as I cascaded down through the selections and the website helped guide me through a menu of jewelry they have on hand. I picked and chose to my liking from a plethora of options. From these selections, I created a wish list. Then I rated the wish list according to what I wanted to see sooner rather than later.
One of the fun features Rocksbox offers is the ability to provide specific feedback regarding each piece you received as well as overall feedback on your experience. From the 8 or so boxes I have received thus far, I do feel like they try to narrow down the selections based on your comments. I also like the fact they do try to put together pieces that you can wear together. Their tailor made approach helps make them stand out in the sea of home delivery services. For any pieces you receive and really like, you have the option to buy at a discounted price. In addition, they give you credit dollars to go towards purchases within that month. All in all, a great deal for only $19 per month.
From the most recent box I received, I was pleasantly surprised to get a pair of silver ear climbers, a daring set of antique looking turquoise earrings and a choker necklace with an eye catching pendant. As with the rest of the jewelry I have received, these pieces were carefully wrapped. Each one had its own packaging within the larger box.
I really like all three pieces and could wear them interchangeably. Already I have received compliments on the pendant and love that it's a striking statement piece, but can still be worn day to day. My only wish for this piece is for the chain was a bit longer to have more versatility. The ear climbers are really fun and can be worn anytime- dressed up or casual.
The earrings I really was looking forward to wearing had a bit of a snafu and one of the earrings broke before I could try them which was unfortunate. However, as soon as I reached out to Rocksbox, they offered a $10 credit and to replace the earrings right away which is a win in my book.
The best thing about Rocksbox is when I tire of this look; I simply place the jewelry back into the packaging it came. Then I send it off anticipating the next shipment which arrives within a few days after they are notified of the return. Then the anticipation returns and the excitement starts all over again.
A lover and creator of unique culinary delights. 80's and 90's music aficionado. Digs fashion, tea and literature with a purpose. Loves to create. Firm believer in beauty rest. Still owns a pair of doc martins from 1996.


Quality of Life or Quantity of Life?
I was spending the summer training as a hospital chaplain, and felt I had been given one of the "easy" floors to serve. I was on a general medicine floor that mostly saw older patients. I was relieved to have somehow avoided an assignment in another area of the hospital, like pediatric intensive care or the ER.
But one day, I walked into a room, and met a couple. A woman, probably in her seventies, was lying on the bed, and I saw her husband awake, aware, and attentive to her needs. While his wife slept, IVs in her arms, machines beeping, I drew him into conversation.
He had brought his wife into the hospital that day, as he had a number of times before. His wife was suffering from an untreatable form of cancer, and the disease would eventually lead to a long, protracted, most likely painful end. She also had a chronic hyper-calcium condition which had periodic flare-ups and could be treated. But that treatment needed to be administered early in the flare-up stage — if the symptoms of the condition were not quickly recognized, and she was not brought immediately to the hospital, it would be only a very short time before she would die.
He asked me — what was the right, the ethical thing to do? Should he ignore his wife's symptoms and let her pass quickly, without pain? Or, should he continue to bring her in each time for care, knowing he was condemning her to an extended, lingering, terrible and painful death?
I had no real answer to give. He felt he was playing God; I could not fully contradict him. Was he saving a life each time he brought his wife to the hospital? Was he putting a barrier before death, and not letting the inevitable occur? Was he required to do everything possible, regardless of the later consequences?
In the 21st century, particularly, as our scientific knowledge and our medical technologies continue to grow, we are able to save many more people than in the past. Machines keep us alive, when in former ages we would have "known" someone was dead. New treatments can potentially alleviate pain.
And so we need to ask some very hard questions. Do we have a responsibility to keep people alive at all costs, even if they are in great pain? How do we navigate the tension between "quantity" of life and "quality" of life? As medical technologies advance, ethical challenges like this one will only increase.
As I left the hospital room that day, my mind kept circling around a rabbinic story of the 2nd century sage Rabbi Yehuda haNasi. As he lay on the edge of death, struggling painfully through his last moments of life, his disciples had gathered around his bed, praying for him to remain in this world. Rabbi Yehuda haNasi's servant saw his suffering, and realized that the fervent prayers of his students were preventing him from dying. She knew she had to act, and threw an earthenware jug off the roof, smashing it, startling the disciples. In that millisecond when their attention was distracted, the rabbi's soul peacefully departed.
I felt like I was supposed to be like that servant, seeing the big picture, knowing what to do, knowing the right answer to give. I felt that my training as a rabbi was to bring a religious point of view to circumstances, and I had interpreted that as having and giving answers. I was unsettled and upset for not having an, let alone the, answer to give.
Over time, my chaplain supervisor helped me realize a different point of view. We tend to think that religion, morals and values, give a clear bright line on all of life's questions. In reality, that is not always so.
I struggled then to understand this, and it still is not fully comfortable to me even now years later, but I came to see that as a religious person, my role that day was not to tell the husband what to do. Religion is much more than saying, "do this." Rather, the religious role is often just to be there, to be present for the other. To share our common humanity and frailty, and our lack of clear knowledge.
Even though I didn't know it at the time, that day, I realize now that I "simply" needed to listen to the husband. To sit with him through his questions. To take his hand in his anguish and grief.
And now I recognize that together, in our brief interaction, we helped comfort each other.
Hello Michelle. Thank you for this story. I read somewhere recently that when one is performing hospice services, for the most part, those at the end of their lives simply want to be heard. Many of us are tempted, as you said, to try to "fix" something or to use elegant and wise words to uplift or ease a departing soul.
Right now my grandmother lives in a place I can't access. She has had Alzheimer's disease for many years now. I take comfort that she is not in pain. I visit her and see her struggling to recognize me. She sometimes smiles her toothless smile. She says very little now. I have heard people comment that they sometimes don't see the point of visiting people in such a condition because "they won't remember it afterwards, anyway." This saddens me for a number of reasons, not the least of which it is laden with unprovable assumptions.
In addition to seeing my grandmother in this condition, I have been present for the illness and passing of my mother (who was 53 at the time), my aunt and a dear friend. One struggles for words in these times of vulnerability. But often they are not needed. Listen. Become comfortable with the silence, and the connectedness between you. As a Baha'i I accept that we are spiritual beings with souls that can associate in ways we do not understand. It is not something I expect others to accept, but it helps me in my attempt to be present, calm and of service in a way that, I hope, is best for those I love.