Our Heart...

לבי במזרח ואנכי בסוף מערב 





Jerusalem, you're always on my mind, since the day I left you behind... but i can feel you in my heart, though we're six thousand miles apart....

Sigh

I wish I could… always tell the truth... sometimes it's just easier to lie... especially when I know I won't get caught.

My biggest fear is… that I will lose everything I worked so hard to be a part of... I love everything you represent, and all the work you do... but I can't believe there is just one factor that could make me lose it all...

I hate to… leave voicemails. Blech.

I love… smiling, laughing, chocolate, pictures, when a friend remembers.... water, music.

Today I will… study for finals, work on a video, clean... and all other manners of mundaneness.

Yesterday I… couldn't take a nap like I wanted.

My hair is…"dirty blonde" and always ironed. 

I will never… know it all... and I am content like that.

If you are reading this, consider yourself tag'd.

Moving On

You know those flowery mashals about life being a chance to plant roots, sprout and burst forth, growing into something stupendous? As I reflect onto the past, I wonder how many roots I firmly planted and what sort of impression I left on the places I've been to and the people I've met.
Did I portray an image that I can be proud of in later years?
Did I help someone in need?
Was I a friend when someone was lonely?
That's one side of the coin...
On the other hand, every tree, in order to grow healthy needs some maintenance... some pruning and trimming in order to become tall and strong.
Clearing out years worth of papers, emptying shelves and boxes full of... "memories?" It's amazing to see the changes I've made, even when it seems like I remained stagnant.
But the time has come... I'm moving on. I'm taking a step into a brand new world, a less sheltered world. I'm traveling a road that I barely knew of.
I'm moving on from who I was... to who I can be.
So yea, I left some roots in my past... I planted some seeds of my own (I hope), but there comes a time to cut off the decaying branches, to clear away the rotting leaves to make way for new growth, new radiant foliage...
I'm moving on.

It's Time

Where are you hiding…

Underneath the shame of self-hating…

Beneath the epidemic of assimilation…

Behind the rampant affliction of cancer spreading fast…

Below the constant onslaught of attacks, tragedy and destruction?

Where are you hiding…

In the darkness of family secrets and lies…

Within the confines of crises and chaos…

Surrounded by the unstoppable rumors and whispers…

Inside this dark world we live in…?

When will you step out

From the shadows;

The gloom that engulfs us

To bring us towards the light

Which only your arrival

Can bring…

Shh...

We act on scraps of information--sifting half-remembered directions that we can hardly separate from instinct (1). Is this not how we go about our lives? Most times, we don’t know the whole story, but we rely on vague details that seem to fit, and spread rumors and lies like a Californian wild-fire, never mind who we may burn in the process. When a new bit of information gets out, suddenly everyone is an expert, has an opinion and must give his two cents. But… brevity is the soul of wit (2), and we must learn to just… shhh… keep your opinion for yourself… restrain yourself from pressing the “comment” button… hold back your “sharp tongue” from unleashing a fury of uneducated statements and blatant disregards from the laws by which we follow…

“Siyag l’chachma shtika…” The wise man knows when to shut his mouth… better to be thought of as a fool then to open your mouth and remove all doubt…. Yes, you may be right… but shhh… hold back… for just one moment… for just one second, stop your lips from moving… shhh… revel in the silence of swallowing your big ideas and smart ideals… that are rather not idealistic… can you back yourself up with irrefutable facts and proof? Do you have the signature of an expert on the matter or a Rav on the barrage of well-worded comebacks that you want to spit out?

Were you there when the accident happen? Are you a posek on the ways of the world? Are you certain you know what you are saying? The degradation of society is a man who doesn’t know when to keep quiet… when a man… or a woman has so much to say… and doesn’t understand that it isn’t the time to say it… our history is filled with those spoke when they should have kept silent… and they paid dearly for their actions… (Shmuel HaNavi (3)… Shlomis bas Divri... (4). They lost clarity… lost Yerusha…

And so you wonder, what is the reward for silence? Is it really worth it to hold back one moment of satisfaction for… something else?

Yesh Sachar L’P’Ulasech (5)… Rochel kept quiet when her sister Leah was under the chuppah… she had every right to scream, “NO! He’s mine!” Yet she held back her tongue during that moment… and at the appropriate time, she gave the signs… then withdrew into silence… and for that, her children were redeemed…(Yirmiyahu)

And so too… if we… just… shh… we will… be… redeemed… the day shall yet come when the maidens rejoice… when the old men and young dance together (6)… when we will dance into the streets of Yerushalayim… so please… for the sake of redemption… for the sake of salvation… for the sake of your nation… just please… shhh….


1. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, Tom Stoppard
2. Hamlet, William Shakespeare
3. Melachim Aleph
4. Chumash Shemos
5. Yirmiyahu, Perek Lamed Aleph
6. Yirmiyahu

Conundrum of the Klal

I just took one final, had an iced coffee, the sun is shining and I feel really good right now... So while my head isn't feeling low, I think I can properly articulate some of the thoughts in my head... 


A few days ago, I was informed of the passing of a young man, after his long battle with cancer. At first, he was a name I knew by association, and by that alone, I was upset. Then I discovered the face behind the name and the hurt was so much more.
By association, this has been a rough year. The passing of a child, of a fighter in no small deal. It signifies a life cut short, when there was so much potential and so much promise. So yes, it hurts.
But then I think... does it hurt, solely because I know the children who passed? Has this year been a rough one for me because of the affiliations I have? Or has the Klal as a whole taken too many bullets... literally and figuratively. The Fogel family... the bus bombings... car accidents... cancer... Is it really all of epic proportions, or only because I know of the national and personal tragedies?
At the same time... all the pain I experience, the news that I must learn to accept (and cry over) someone else has there own portion of problems and pain to deal with...
So then perhaps it really hasn't been a "tough year" for just me.... just this family I am involved in... but... everyone?
If there were a measure, a scale, a ruler for pain, would we all be on the same mark, weighing in the same? Or does each person measure differently? The tragedies afflicting our people are great. We are the victims of media persecution, religious opposition, self hatred and assimilation. We suffer from the hands of others, the hands of our own, and from the hands of forces we cannot control. Bombings, cancer, shootings... The list is quite endless... Is this a hard year only because we are a part of _____________ and thus there are certain inherent "side effects" of being associated with such an organization?
Is it just a "hard year" for the klal? i mean, we take a hit each time we hear about a camper... but it's only those within the family.. and because it's those we know, it hurts even more... my friends who arent involved arent going through it... 

For the klal, its definitely been a tough year... but is it that much more painful because of our involvement with ________________ and the sensitivity of knowing that not every child will be healed?

Is it a "tough year" because of the profound loss we have experienced or this is normal for us...? I can't recall being so cognitive of pain and loss and suffering. Is it because I never noticed before? Or because it's so much closer to home? Or because the intensity of which we are being struck has increased?

Hearing all this bad news... all this loss... makes me feel so... helpless. It makes me more aware of a being, far greater and more powerful than I. It makes me realize, I am not in control. No one really is. Not the soldiers, the leaders, the doctors... It makes me realize I have no one to rely on during these times but Avinu She'Bashamayim... Because if I can't rely on him, then from whence shall salvation come?

Not sure how much sense this post makes, but it sorta of accentuates the fact that all of this is so incomprehensible and really, there is no explanation that man can give... at least we can try...

Captor

Fragile captor

Thin-skinned you are

Subject to simple tortures

And you give in

Just cave to the pressure…

A slow motion

Self inflicted massacre

Blood… everywhere…

Only because you

Refuse to communicate

With the captive

Inside you.

End of the World

They said that the world would end...
But it already had.
They say that each person is a world...
Six million were destroyed
And to each person
The loss of just one
Mother... father... sister... brother...
The unspeakable loss of a son... or daughter...
Is the end of the world,
And it is...
The end of the world
Doesn't have to come in the form
Of fire, and ice
Brimstone and hail
Rather through 'the sharp knife
Of a short life'.
The end of the world
Is determined through the eyes
Of the one viewing the destruction...
Loss...
Or heartbreak...
It doesn't need proclamation on billboards
Or radio stations...
Because in some way
In some form...
We are all experiencing
The end of the world.
Thankfully...
With every end...
There is always a new beginning...

Thank You

Dear _________,
This is the real letter I should have sent you. I wrote that first one as the small sign that I was slightly affected by my time spent with you. Slightly. Because despite all the things you taught me, you barely scratched the surface. I came to you when I needed help, when I needed someone, and you tried to pass me off... Just like I said all the others had done... and you did the same.
I gave you that letter. I didn't want to hear your reaction. But you said, "Thank you... and I'm so sad we didn't have more time together this year like we should have." Really? There were so many chances. I stopped reaching out because you stopped showing you cared. So please, please don't say that you wish we could have had more time together and when you have the chance, not even take it.
I'm not a groupie. I won't crowd around you with the others like an obsessive fan. It's not who I am. But if you realized we had a "connection" why didn't you act on it? I tried. I tried so many times but clearly I wasn't worth your time.
Thank you for whatever it was I wrote about in that first letter. But this is the one that says how I really feel. It's a shame you won't see it and know the truth.

RD

Priority

You're gonna need a piece of paper for this one...
Number it 1-5.
Now comes the hard part...

Number One write down your favorite family member... the person you think of when someone mentions the word "family". Did you write it? You can go on...

Number Two write down your favorite thing to do in your spare time... reading, writing, walking, singing. Write it. Wrote it? Good. Time for...

Number Three write down the one thing you would take if you had five seconds to grab something out of your burning house and run. Five seconds. One thing. (All living members of your house are safe outside, so don't write down a family member, cat, dog, fish... they are ok.) Did you write it? Great.

Number Four write down one thing people would unanimously say about you (a skill you have, personality trait...) Pick one... Last one...


Number Five write down what you think is the most important sense to have (Sight, taste, sound... etc.)

Did you finish your list? Hard to write, isn't it?
Well, now here comes the fun part.
Cross off one thing. You no longer can have it in your life.
Did you cross something off? Now do it again.

And again.

And again.

What's left?










Think about it...

Road Trip

One road trip ends as another journey begins...
Landmarks? I saw a lot of them...
Forks in the road? I made those tough decisions...
Speed bumps? Pot holes? I had to cross many of those...
Sometimes I followed the map...
Other times I deviated from the driven path...
And forged a new road of my own...

Travelers kept me company
Hitchhikers gave me new relationships as I went along
I saw sights I never thought I would see
I met people I didn't think I would ever meet
I learned a lot in my travels...
And I lost a lot as well...

In retrospect
I might have ...
Moved too fast, too slow
Left too soon, too late...
Seen too much, too little...
Said not enough, not at the right time...

I didn't become a savvy world traveler
Or even a well experience driver
But I gained maneuvering skills
And a new sense of direction
To steer me towards a new destination.

I'm exiting via express lane 2011
Heading straight towards highway 5772

Happy traveling....

Status Update

I want to tell you the story of Sam. It’s not a happy story, it’s not a story, it just is… It’s the story of a man who rose to great heights then, in a sudden turn of events came crashing down into the harsh world of reality… This is Sam’s story.

Sam was your typical all-American male. At age 18 he was on his way to college to pursue a degree in some field that appealed to him. But that isn’t the point of this story. At age 18, Sam discovered a talent he possessed that had been buried deep within him since childhood and only came forth when he entered the Age. The Age was a revolutionary time period when the full force of the Internet came into effect, sweeping the world faster than anyone could have predicted. Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and Google struck with a fury, capturing anyone in their path. It was incredible and horrific all at once.

When Sam got to college, he met this maze-like world and was drawn in. His Facebook account became an integral part of his day. Checking it for updates and notifications became part of his every day routine. Twitter-ing was his prized hobby. YouTube? His channel was constantly being updated. And he Google’d with the best of them. Yet it was his unique talent that brought him into the spotlight.

            One night, when Sam was feeling particularly burdened by his workload, he took a break to check his Facebook. Once logged in, he went to update his status. He typed in a message, exactly 160 characters, the limit he was allowed.

            Then he went to his Twitter and did the same. 160 characters, no more, no less. Sam felt… strange. He didn’t mean to do it. It just came out that way. The jumble of his thoughts at the late hour managed to fit into only 160 characters. Ironic, Sam thought.

            Without pause, he began typing status updates into a Word document. 160 characters exactly, without even counting as he did typed. Witty thoughts, uplifting quotes and insightful observations filled the document. Sam couldn’t stop himself. He wanted to update his status but he knew it was “uncool” to do so frequently. And so began a 100 day journey for Sam where each day he would update his status, 160 characters that’s all, updating the world with his daily doings and thoughts. He began a friend-ing rampage, becoming friends with anyone he had ever said hi to, passed on the street, or who shared a mutual friend. Soon he had to turn his Facebook profile into a page to accommodate his growing number of friends, joining the ranks of those who could be “liked”. He stopped friend-ing people, because they started friend-ing him!

            It wasn’t too long after that news station got wind of Sam and his prolific status updates, Twitter feed and his unique literary prowess spread faster than a viral video.

            “Sam? Oh yea! I read him every day!” people would gush. Comments and likes filled his notification feed and Sam couldn’t contain his glee.

            “They are reading me,” he thought victoriously.

            A publisher called to sign a book deal. Publicists wanted him as a client. It was a whirlwind of deals and dollars, slowly, yet efficiently sucking Sam away from anything that ever meant anything to him. His studies slid into oblivion and his friends outside of his computer never quite seemed to fit into his schedule. Sam was too busy updating his status and Tweeting. He made YouTube videos thanking all his followers, showing an in-depth looking into the genius work he did and keeping everyone informed about his life.

The Age had captured Sam in a lethal grip….

            One day, Sam went on a morning news show to be interviewed.

            “So Sam,” they began, “What do your friends think of you?”

            “They like me SO much,” Sam gushed, smiling like a fool for the camera. It was really a miracle he looked as polished as he did, considering he hardly exercised and usually forgot personal hygiene. He had more important things to take care of.

            “Haha Sam, you’re so funny! Just like your statuses,” the interviewer laughed, “But really Sam, what do your non-Facebook friends think of you?” The interviewer smiled, awaiting Sam’s answer. And waited… and waited…

            “Sam?”

            Sam smiled weakly. “Um…”

            “Well you think about that, we’re gonna have a quick break.” The red light on top of the camera went off and Sam ran. He bolted out of the studio into the street.

            He held his Blackberry in his trembling hands. He had nothing to say… nothing to Tweet or post… He suddenly came to a sickening realization.

            He wasn’t communicating with people… he wasn’t enlightening anyone. When he updated his status, he thought he was educating the masses… instead, he was shouting into the darkness hoping someone was listening enough to acknowledge his brilliance. No one was really listening to him.

            Sam thought back to the past few months… A social life? The only thing social that Sam knew was a social network. Friends? They were merely tiny profile icons on his news feed. Sam’s existence was based solely on the trappings of the Internet and nothing else. He was what he posted or Tweeted… fleeting words on a luminescent screen that brought no light. He existed only for the “Update” button on his screen.

            Sam clicked methodically until he got to his Facebook page and saw… no comments… no likes… no notifications. Nothing. It was the first time in months that he had checked and no little red circle alerted him. Sam couldn’t breathe. He had been something so great, so followed and so liked and now he had faded into the recesses of the bottom of a news feed, forgotten and disappearing into the tangled web he had trapped himself in.

            And that's the story of Sam... Sam was a star… and then he was last week’s Twitter update, lost in the jumble of his own desperate shouts into the gray world that neither captured the heart or the mind… instead, they stole his soul.

Change

“Rachelli, I’d like to speak to you after class.” Cue quickening heartbeat, rapid breathing and sweaty palms. What does she want? What did I do?

“Am I in trouble?”

            “Let’s see how class plays out,” she says with a smile. My mind races as I try to guess what she could possibly want to talk to me about. This teacher and I have always gotten along well. Hurrying to the bathroom, I think about our recent interactions. Maybe she wants to talk to me about the journal entries I handed in… what did I write in those ones about anyhow… Was there plagiarism? Did I say something radical and worrisome?

            Class goes on and I anxiously wonder what she wants from me… The bell rings. A bunch of girls approach her desk. I wasn’t the only one she wanted to talk to. We go out into the hall and she speaks to us one by one. Finally, it’s my turn.

            “Rachelli… I just want to tell you, I see such a difference in you from the beginning of the year. You are so much more caring, and mature and…” She goes on like this and I nod and grin like she just gave me the best present ever, all the while thinking… really? Did I really change so much? I feel like the same me… the same me, stuck in the same rut, going through the same motions… am I different?

            She finishes and I say thank you and walk away.

            I think back to the past year… I know I have changed… or at least, am not the same person. I was more bitter at the beginning of the year… It’s hard to forget all the tears, the anger and frustration I was going through… how I felt used, abused and unappreciated, disregarded and unimportant. How many people told me that I had been a horrible person, snapping at will and being generally obnoxious to be around?

            Yet… how many times did I hear, later in the year, that teachers noticed how I had changed… that I was being spoken about in glowing terms at Shabbos meals between teachers…?

            Maybe I have changed…. Maybe I am different…

Thunder

Oh thunder,

You enter my life

Just as the storm below

Brews with such fury…

The anger that lies in each moment

Reflected in the bombardment

Of heavy drops

Oh thunder…

Oh thunder

I sing to you…

The way you understand my soul

And express that which I can’t

Is a small comfort

That barely takes away the pain

Just enough for me to say

Oh thunder…

Oh thunder,

Incessantly pounding

Shaking my very core

As I tremble with heavy tears

Unable to hold back my own rainstorm

Why should I even try,

When the sound of thunder

Blocks out the noise as I cry?

Oh thunder….

Intellect vs. Desire

Intellect and desire
Two opposite entities
Like ice and fire
Fighting to be
The one who succeeds
Yet each force fails
Into unmarked dirt trails.

The balance is cruel
To try and control
Which one will rule
And lead the way
For one who will sway
If not taught the answer to why
Sadly instead, living a lie

What I want
Versus what I think
Obstacles that taunt
And cause me to sink
Or truth presented
That cannot be contested
Could be the defining link
Between intellect and desire
And only then can I reach higher

Freedom

Is freedom the mentality
To break a perceived reality
Where one is bound
Ultimately un-found
In the life one wishes to live?

The greener grass
Seen through a frosted glass
Clearly it is there
Yet caught in the snare
That does not forgive

Chained and pained
Broken and breaking
Unbearable aching
When all along
I sang the song
Of freedom

Unclean

Strewn across the carpeted floor

The mess bears witness to

Struggle within

Order without

The silence of disarray

Is the most ear shattering shout.

Papers, laundry, last week’s soup bowl

Spilled onto the darkening rug

Like a junkie without his drug

No stability within reach

Only the tired remains

Of an empty faith to preach.

Guidance lacking

Soul slacking

Littering the floor

Too distraught to clear away

The destruction of the day

Perhaps, I’ll return to life before…

Mazel Tov

Dressed in white

She graced the room

Eyes lowered

As she approached her groom

Low music playing

She circled him slow

Seven times around she went

Just liked she had dreamt, long ago

Shaking underneath the canopy

He trembled forward and back

Searching within himself

For a fault or a lack

In this moment of purification

He would become rid of all sin

From the years past

Together with his bride they would newly begin

Seven blessings recited

By those held in highest esteem

Words of promise and hope

To fulfill the ultimate dream

With joy and gladness

Happiness and song

Together with love and compassion

They will build a home so strong

A shattered glass of remembrance on the floor

Tears flowing free

Smiles shine bright as the awaited moment

Finally came to be

An outburst of instruments

The trembling of uplifted dance and song

As husband and wife hold hands

After waiting so long

Mazel Tov to the most perfect husband and wife... May you build a Bayis Ne'eman B'Yisroel... I know you will.

You may not read this... but it's thanks to you that I am where I am now. Both of you have shown me who I can become. Your support and guidance means so much to me. 

Life, Death and the Time Between

Very often, I contemplate the fragility that is life. We are born into this world, as if we are dying, when merely it is the gateway in, then experience the trials, tribulations and triumphs of life, uncertain of when the ending hour will arrive and so... we live. Day to day... uncertain and in doubt. Mortality is a frightening thing.
I understand why it is unhealthy to think about death. Dying. The end. Yet, what about thinking about it, for the sake of fulfilling my time now? To do all I can, with the means I was given, in the situations presented before me? Is that... wrong?
When these thoughts... sneak into my head, I suddenly feel so small... so weak... so unprepared and so incapable in grasping all the achievements and self satisfying growth experiences that I long for...
I wish these thoughts would... subside. As I am not the one calling the shots, controlling the pieces, I can only... try my best. Yet sometimes... It isn't enough.
I feel so... lost right now...
Hmmm....

Dilemma

As I get older (or wiser?) I've come to realize (or at least notice) that life is often made up of choices and the ramifications of those choices, for good, bad, or neutral. Now, the decision making process is must more serious. It's not a matter of deciding between nap or play, cookie or cracker, water or JUICE. Now, the decisions can have ripple effects, far beyond my scope of vision. Decisions I make today quickly become out of my control.
My choices do not effect just me. Man is not an island. I can't believe that my choices effect me alone. I am not independent of others in the things I want to do, or decide to do.
Frustrating.
So what do I do, when my moral conscience is desperate for one thing... when my external pressures demand another?
Choices.... choices... choices.