Day Nine

I would like to say that today is Day One of my journey, that I am well prepared for my ascent and I know exactly which direction I’m heading in. But, truth be told, it’s already Day Nine and I haven’t a clue about where I am going or how I’m getting there.
I’ve barely begun and already I’m worn and weary. Lack of preparation or guidance leaves me feeling vulnerable.
Already, trying to track my journey is tiresome. But this is my journal. My diary. The Diary of my Spiritual Conquest.
I’m not sure how to go about this. I have forty days to make my discoveries, to come to certain conclusions and make my own decisions.
Forty days of spiritual cleansing. Purging myself before I reach my destination. Uch.
Whenever I come to this time, I feel so… detached. How can I ascend this steep ladder? Does the distance matter? Or does effort count too? And if so, does reaching the peak actually mean something? Or is it just a goal, albeit, rather unattainable? Self introspection is so difficult. No matter about the pain. This is my journey. Pain is inevitable. Success is uncertain. Discovery, for good or bad, is inevitable.
So here I am. At day nine. Nine days late launching my journey. I have nothing with me but my mind, and the vague knowledge of where I should be going. Nothing concrete. Just whispers. Yet, this is a map. I just don’t know how touse it. It holds keys, treasure and how to unlocked all of my mysteries.
Sigh. Travel is never easy.
Day Nine. Forty remaining.

Rocky Road

Life's a rocky road sometimes,
It catches us by surprise,
It takes a while for us to choose,
To open up and realize,
That despite the pain,
The miserable rain,
And all the shame,
Light shines through,
The darkest clouds,
To a place where previously
No happiness was allowed.
Losses come in many forms
And tear us to the core
We pray and beg, please no more
And wonder what else is in store
But if you choose
And take the time
You'll see the beauty and rhyme
The poetry in life itself
If you raise the bar
You'll go far
In the proverbial car
That is life.

Passage

I’ll wake up from this nightmare

One day, I will live in a dream

These four white walls

Aren’t as clean as they may seem…

Its pasty appearance bears the burden

Of too many tears shed in sorrow

Yet they lead to an open window

That can be opened to the promise of tomorrow

Portraits hang sideways on the walls

The lighting is dimmed throughout the way

The floor bears the scars of my travels

As I continue another day

Vague rays of light shine through

Paving the way to the final door

And through that passage at the end

I won’t exist in this realm anymore

Within this darkness that I cannot fight

Tiny sparks ignite a fire of hope

It gives me the strength to go on

And the power to carry on and cope

Worn and weak, I step forward

Pressing past each trouble before me

I will conquer with each step I take

And pass through into eternity

Cutest Passover Video

Quite possibly the cutest Pesach video out there this season (clean tune, cute kids and proactive for our cause!)
Enjoy!

Redeem Me

Please,

Please don't let go...

Please don't let me sink

Another level lower,

Than I already am...

Please... redeem me...

Bring me up from...

Down here...

Don't let me be lost lost in the darkness...

I have fallen so far...

I am just waiting...

To be taken...

And on this night...

I will sacrifice all my fears,

Let down my guard...

Give you all control...

And then...

Be free.

Benefit for Bentzi

I was asked to pass this video around... If you can help Bentzi, please donate here: Benefit for Bentzi

Unspoken

Words unspoken

In haste, forgotten

Yet in waste,

Turned rotten...

Precious few can describe

Or even compare

Yet completely worthless

When unreleased into the air

Kept quiet

For far too long

You were uninformed

About what was wrong

Trapped inside my head

Never escaped my mind

Lips sealed

In vain, to be kind

Passive behavior

Yet yelling would be better

Or penned

In an honest letter

Words never brought

To fruition or life

Will cut worse

Then the sharpest knife

Given the chance to speak

I remained unspoken

And now I remain

Completely broken.

Layers

You can't put on a new suit until you take the old one off...


Layer by layer...
Piled on in ignorance
To cover up...
Or to improve that which lies
Underneath...
But if you pull away the layers
Though it all remains hidden
There is no denying the fact
That it is always there
Beneath the surface...

Forgiveness

I humbly apologize on bended knee,
I am bent in half, for the taste of forgiveness,
That which only you can feed ,
And for it, I am filled with lust and greed,
Only the elusive words of, "I forgive you,"
Will fill the gaping hole your silence has left,
Growing within me.
Here I am,
Broken before you, like shattered glass,
Strewn across the floor and here I lie,
Soaked in my own blood and tears,
Because if I can't control the hurt from without,
Then I must learn to maintain the pain within.
Profuse apologies cried in whispers,
Fall onto deaf and turned ears,
Until I am hoarse and dry throated,
Forced to write these words of desperation,
Even though, deep down I know,

You will never read them.

Welcome

I have been to weddings... weddings of (not frum) family members... weddings of close (and not so close) friends... weddings of sister's friends... I've been around a bit. Yet... there is still something so... pure... so real about going to wedding of someone you have never met, never heard their name, and in fact... they just joined your family.
Tonight, I received an "invitation" (via text message) from a friend to attend a wedding of a recently converted couple. Driving to the gym, a friend and I decided to attend. We had our workout, raced home to change and arrived at the shul just mere moments before the trumpet blasts announcing the "newly" married couple. And without knowing the kallah or her past, we dancing with her into her new future. I can't say for sure who was in attendance... a fair few of my fellow school mates and some high school aged boys (separately, of course) danced for the kallah and chosson, respectively.
I have to admit, I am the kind of person who will voice when something makes me happy... and I was SO happy being there. It wasn't a show, it wasn't a big blow out... It was a simple wedding, a small crowd, a lively band and... the Simcha and Sasson that only a Jewish wedding can spread...
So, to the chosson and kallah, welcome... we are so happy you are here... IY"H we should only share in many, many more simchas.

It's another breath stolen...
GAAAASSSSPP
It's another heart broken...
CRAAAAACCCK


Shallow breathing...
How... COULD you?
Accusatory finger pointing...
You KNOW what you did...


Eyes closed...
You can't seeeeeeeeee me
Legs pounding on stone pavement
And you will never find me...

Words

I take my writing very seriously. Rarely will I post something I am not one hundred percent proud of... and if it doesn't make me feel whole inside when I press "publish post", you can be sure it will be down a few minutes later.

Writing is pain. When you write, you draw out all the emotion, all the raw feelings, and all that is hidden spills forth. When I write pain, I write with a delicate hand. Words have become.. overused.... and abused... We have lost the true meaning of a laugh... (LOL!) And goodbyes become a superficial parting (BRB TTYL). What happened to "parting is such sweet sorrow"? What happened to the eloquence in language? What happened to the thrill of discovering the word, the PERFECT word, that would express your thoughts? Or the sheer excitement of manipulating language with such delicacy, that it seems like a new creation is being born?
Why have we become limited to 160 characters or less? Why do we limit OURSELVES in our incredible, solely human skill? We possess a power, far more complex and intricate than an animal... We possess a tongue that can lift, cause rift, create joy, instigate anger... we have a trait innate within us that sets us apart from any other living creature on earth.
Did you ever wonder why we yell with joy at a baby's first words? Or why we shed tears over a child who simply won't speak?
Do we realize why a speaker can stir us?
Do we realize the strength, the glory, the power (the pressure....the poison...) and the beauty of words?

When I write, I write to pass on a message... to stir a person to think about deeper meaning... When I write, I  am desperate for a reader to find the other side of the story... When I write, I want worlds, through myself and others, to be explored...

The art of writing is lost... It is a dying skill, doomed to be trivialized by miniature keyboards, touch pads, digital books and white screens. It is a talent that lately, few possess...

Words are power. Use them wisely.

Breaking Me

I will…

Break my will…

Bend it to your…

Whims and ways…

I will take all of my contrariness…

And snap it apart…

And leave you free

To rule the broken pieces of me…

Until all that is left…

Is what you remade me to be….

I will break myself…

Again and again…

And though I don’t know when…

All this will end…

I will break myself…

Again…

If only to break

This unending trend

And there….

I broke myself again…

I'll add another name..
To my already lengthening list
Of my brothers... my sisters...
Another one... in thick black ink...
Because...
We will never forget.

Strength... Dear Tamar...

Dear Tamar,
We've never met. And up until a few weeks ago, I had no idea who you were. You and your family lived in relative peace and comfort until it was ripped away. I wish I could do something. I wish I had words to comfort you. But there is nothing I can do... and there are precious few words I could say that would give you even a drop of comfort... To lose your parents, and three siblings in one night? Such an unspeakable act should never have happened... It's terrifying to know what baseless hatred can drive people to do.
After watching an interview that you did with an Israeli news show, I am reminded of a quote that has helped me along...

You  never know how strong you are, until being strong is the only choice you have.

I think these words epitomize you. From the interview, you carried yourself with grace, poise, and promise, for yourself, for your siblings, for your parents who are watching you and for an entire nation that mourns with you. Your words about rebuilding, about not being broken, about being a nation that will live, and survive, are so powerful, and rang with love and hope.

I can't imagine the nightmare you experienced, or the pain you are enduring, but Tamar, from that small glimpse I had of you, I can see your strength and that will take you far. You have shown an evil nation that despite their acts of destruction, they did not destroy. You have shown a struggling nation, a tired people, a worn out, beaten, yet hopeful family, that we can endure, we can persevere, and we will survive.

התנערי מעפר קומי לבשי בגדי תפארתך עמי

Shake off the dust--arise! Don your splendid clothes, My people (Lecha Dodi)

Tamar, you showed me: They may beat us. They may kill us. But we will never succumb. We will wear our royal clothes, and we will arise. Am Yisrael Chai. Klal Yisroel will survive.

מכל לבי,

Rachelli Dreyfuss

Top Ten Things I Love About Purim

You can guess if this is sarcastic or not...

10. The obscene amount of candy and junk food that has now plagued my kitchen and dining room... Gown shopping after Pesach? Pesach in a month? No biggie... Now there are just uber loads of junk to eat... joy...
9. The stress about what costume to wear (Luckily, I was able to fulfill two dreams- dying my hair red and dressing like a pregnant-Chassidish-out-of-town-tuna-beigel!)
8. Mishloach Manos Themes (I didn't really have one... but you know that poem? Well... my teacher used the same idea for hers... sigh...)
7. The wonderfully obnoxious teenage boys who put on their hazard lights and drive SLOOOOWLY through the streets while they honk an air horn (Did I mention I was driving around for over four hours today delivering Mishloach Manos? No? Well... NOT FUN!)
6. The uber cutesy engaged, or newly married couples who dress all matchy-patchy (ok, sometimes it's cute...)
5. CHOCOLATE (another serious one...)
4. "Who is sober?"
3. The corny jokes... make it stop...
2. A new Maccabeats video (mixed feelings...)
1. The lady who sat next to me at Megilla with her Gragger... App.

Welcome to Purim 2011...

Your Moment is Waiting!

This year, with all the insanity going on, I was sorta of theme-less for Mishloach Manos... but, I think that the poem I sent with my theme-less Mishloach Manos, sums up the essence of Purim... Seize the moment... Esther did. She was given the ultimate chance to save Klal Yisroel from a terrible fate... had she not taken the moment, she would have been annihilated... her and her lineage..

The week preceding Purim, a friend and I read Rabbi Fohrman's book "The Queen You Thought You Knew" which provided a lot of insight into Purim and the regal Queen Esther. I wholeheartedly recommend this thought provoking book which, with humor and brilliance, sheds light on some of the most confusing parts of the Megilla.

Later, I hope to post some more thoughts on Purim (Yes, that's right, I have a lot to say...) Until then, here is my poem for you to enjoy!

(And yes, I designed the card... no theif-ing please!... Thanks to Google for the Dr. Seuss image...)

A freilichen Purim!

Fairytale

Can we exist
Behind the mask
We have made for ourselves?
That prevents us from seeing
Or being recognized as well?
You have hidden yourself
Clothed in peasantry
When you could wear
Robes of royalty...
You wear a crown
Of dirt and mud
Instead of gold and pearls
The mask you wear
Is as fleeting as
The moment before
The clock strikes twelve (12)
And this fairytale you think
You live in
Returns to
An unhappy ending.

What Is, Will Be (From the Archives)

Too busy to actually write a new post... though there is a lot on my mind, so here is something for now...


It is what it is
And what will be will occur
I promise
That the future will come soon enough
And one day, all those "over there"s
Will become your right "here" next door neighbors
Stressing out?
What's the point?
It's all in your perception
I promise it's not reality
And what will be, will be
And what is... is...

Do They Know?

Do they know...
That this is our month of joy...
And they have no hearts...
But to kill a young boy?

Do they know...
That the pain of the past is still here
That every gun shot, or stabbing
Is still etched clear?

Do they know...
That we all mourn each lost life
When they were victimized
By the terrorists knife?

Can they even comprehend
The profound pain we all feel
When we see those tragic pictures
So graphic.... and so real?

Do they know
That despite their unspeakable, vicious acts
We will still emerge, rebuild and always remember
The night of these attacks.

Do they know
That they may hurt, they may kill
But never, ever will they destroy
The strength of our eternal will.