HEART: Hello? Is Soul around?
SOUL: Who's asking?
HEART: Soul! It's me, heart.
SOUL: It's been a long time, Heart. Too long of a time, my dear.
HEART: I know, I know, I'm sorry... I've been... busy dealing with stuff.
SOUL: You all right, kiddo?
HEART: Yeah, I... no, I'm not. I'm not all right.
SOUL: Tell me.
HEART: Wait, is Mind... listening?
MIND: I am always listening.
HEART: Shoot. Yeah, I kinda... I kind of wanted to have some alone time with Soul.
MIND: You can have alone time with Soul when you meditate.
SOUL: That's true.
HEART: Yeah, I... I'm not in the vibe to meditate right now --
SOUL: -- Not in the vibe to meditate, woah?! Sounds like exactly the vibe.
HEART: Well, if Mind wouldn't be so persistent on not 'minding' its own business when I meditate... meditating would be a blast!
MIND: I am detecting an elevated tone which indicates dissatisfaction and possible anger.
HEART: You bet I am 'dissatisfied!' Like, what it takes to soften the Mind every now and then?
Who's in charge of that? Anyone!?!
SOUL: Well... you are.
MIND: That is correct.
HEART: Me? Me.
SOUL: Mind works for YOU. Not the other way around.
HEART: Okay.... and what about you, Soul? Who do YOU work for?
SOUL: Get in the vibe to meditate... and you'll find out.
It's time. It's time for me to deal with you.
It's been a long time coming. Twenty some years, actually. LONG time. I buried you deep in my stomach, in that in-between the gut and something else in there.... the kidney? The.... heart? I missed all of my anatomy classes, I'm afraid. My knowledge of the human body stems from personal experience and episode of the French cartoon 'La Vie'. But as they say... c'est la vie!
I buried you and you were seemingly fine with it. More than fine. You were happy because it meant you were existing, deep inside of me all this time. My mind thought we were over you, but little did it know how you'd show up in random opportunities to act out; In love affairs, in heart breaks, in hardships. You'd show up with that painful smirk, reminding me that you never really left.
And boy, did I want you to leave. I tried everything!
Pushing you away, moving across the world to run away from you, lied about you, repressed you, pretended you were GONE. I tried it all. But you were just there, staying and hurting me.
Dear Hurt, you HURT. You hurt so much that I let Miss Fear take over my better judgment and together we push you deeper in my subconscious every time you appear.
But not anymore, dear Hurt.
I am ready to deal with you . It's time. It's time to see you float away... to find another belly to reside in, to find another body to occupy, to find another heart to chew on.
Clear the area for some fresh hurt, younger hurt, treatable hurt. You are now stiff in my years of neglect of you. And when you are stiff - you hurt even MORE.
I will not miss you, dear Hurt.
But you may miss me - because I fell into every one of your tricks, and as a result -
you lingered on and on and on.
But now it's time. It's time to let you go.
Let me tell you a poet's secret of the trade:
When the hand gets tired -- the heart opens up.
When the heart opens up -- the inner life speaks.
And when the inner life speaks -- time stands still.
That's when the poem 'writes itself'.
Being an immigrant means a lot of things.
Assimilating, overcoming language barriers, unlearning and learning cultural mentality are only few of the challenges. But there is another one less talked about: Always having a part of you in the country of your origin. Even if that country no longer exists -- the memory of what was once home is alive and well in an immigrant's mind and heart.
As an immigrant living in the states, I've practiced making peace with that part of myself that likes to ponder on the memory of the old home. But some days -- I get more sentimental than others. Today was one of those days.
Forgive me for bringing up politics... (One of the first things I've learned about the American mentality is 'we can't talk about politics or religion'... sigh... I would talk about both with anyone, huh!) but today the power structure in my home town of Israel shifted dramatically: After twelve years as prime minister, Benjamin Nethanyahu was finally ousted along with his group of very right wing loyalists. HALLELUJAH! In his replacement, a coalition government was formed that defies expectations and brings up hopes. How so, you ask? Well, this coalition includes a secular centrist liberal, a right wing religious settler, a Palestinian Israeli Conservative Islamist, and a far left gay leader, just to name a few. Sounds far fetched, I know, but these small parties found unity in their quest to work together to oust Nethanyahu and bring upon a much coveted change. See, when the deeply divided country of Israel found itself facing FOUR elections in two years... a strong desire circulated to form a government and keep from entering a FIFTH election. To do that, parties had to unite from all sides of the spectrum, in hopes of creating a backdrop for a new era of unity in the country as a result. I may be speaking out of HOPE here, but it seems like a uber democratic way to deal with a polarized country and coming out of a years-long right wing government lead by a corrupt politician and wannabe dictator (um - Nathanyau is literally on trial for corruption).
So, this is a very simplified version of why today my Immigrant heart is not with my chosen home, but rather with my old home. And as my friends and family are dancing and cheering and celebrating in the streets, I am with them from afar with a cheer and a song in my heart. A new song. A hopeful song. A hope for a brighter future!
A lot of people preach for GRIT, and I can totally understand why.
But for me, it's all about....
*The quality or fact of being able to grip something firmly; grip.
*The quality or fact of being very determined; determination.
*The quality or fact of continuing to exist; persistence.
I find the last definition especially appealing.
Who among us doesn't want to EXIST? And to exist FULLY, meaning - having a voice to speak and share our truth out loud with the world? Being seen and heard is some of humanity's greatest wishes. And to continue in the pursuit of that - one needs to grip firmly, to persist and be determined. In short, one needs: tenacity.
If you are wondering where I am
And why my knees are sore --
I am building a bridge
From my heart to yours
A bridge that would erase
The memory of our wars
A bridge that would heal
All the wounds we caused
A bridge that would bind us
With a ribbon of hope
That will connect me to you
On a never-ending tightrope.
When my bridge is built
I will shamelessly stride
And when you see me there, on the bridge
Invite me over to the other side.
I will cross it with pride
Leading my heart over to you
And once we'll be together
Our dream of peace will finally come true.
Why do I do these 'word of the day' type posts?
Well, for as long as I remember I've been a fan of words (typical writer thing) and the exact description of them. We go through life using words carelessly, as if we all have the same understanding of what they mean, but taking a deeper look at definitions of words give me....
*The quality of being coherent and intelligible.
*The quality of transparency or purity.
With these descriptions of the word... who doesn't want clarity; The ability to communicate coherently, with intelligence, and promote transparency which ultimately leads to trust with those around ya. I don't know about you all, but ME, I will take a deep dive into Clarity any day.
D'you see that hot air balloon?
That one with the flag and the false dream?
The one that fathers take their sons to, saying:
"You can reach as high as that, son!"
But then the child grows up and realizes --
The hot air ballon doesn't reach very high at all,
And the sandbags are falling one by one.
And now the man is old and the sandbags have fallen
And he finds himself in a nursing home in Florida
With the gifts of social security and a nurse at his side.
His teeth have fallen and his memory has faded
But the flag stand tall in its delusion.
And every Independence day the man raises it up to the sky
But he doesn't see how just like the hot air ballon --
It doesn't reach very high at all.
And when the man dies and is buried under
All of us would be left to wonder:
Why his last wish was to be wrapped in the flag
And to cradle his one last remaining sandbag.
When you think Innocence, what do you think of?
Do you go back in time to your childhood - like me - and reminisce on 'first experiences?' Maybe the first time swinging on a swing, or the first time eating solid foods, or the first time reading the alpha bet... ? Or do you think of innocence you may still experience in your life - maybe in things and experiences you don't have the knowledge of? In other words - is innocence at times... ignorance?
Some of the definitions to the word innocence point to being innocent of guilt in some context, and innocent of experiences, in other context. To me, it suits to make a mish-mash of the two and describe Innocence as a 'human state prior to guilt and experience.'
As all children that get the gift or curse (depends whether you are an optimist in life or a pessimist...) of growing up - I have lost my innocence most areas of my life. Every 'first time' - is a tragic loss of innocence. Even when an experience is gained. But I occasionally (or more like... rarely) feel a tint of innocence in my life. Maybe the 'beginner's mind' I always strive to live in - introduces me to the pure state of Innocence.
When I think about people living in horrible circumstances - be it in oppression, in prison, in abusive relationships, experiencing depression, etc. I think 'how could they have any innocence about them left? Are children being born to atrocious circumstances... are they innocent? Was there innocence in the Auschwitz death camps? Is innocence in a way... a privilege?? Do we only truly sense the gift of innocence when it is... LOST???
Asking for my inner child.
One day, today will be just a memory.
It will be the past, stored somewhere in my mind, in my unconscious. If I am lucky I would have a picture on my phone to remember something from today. A moment from my voice-over recording session perhaps, or a conversation with a friend, or maybe the taste of my dinner will stay with me a while longer. Hopefully, somehow, I will lock in a snapshot image in my mind of a moment from today; a moment from the elusive and alluring NOW.
The present moment is always fleeting. Almost like it is never here and always here.
After all, it is ALWAYS the present, and yet - how do we hold on to it when the mind is only able to remember the past and hope and plan for the future?
In the battle for our attention - the present seems to be a constant loser.
Ekhart Tolle may tell us all beautiful tips and affirmations on the Power of Now, and we may buy his book. We may place it on our shelf or even read it. Even read it a few times. Maybe even gift it to our friends. It is after all, a best seller. And yet - most of us walk through our daily lives like addicts of the past and the future. Hardly pondering on 'the power of NOW.' In the fast western society I live in - most of us can't even sit still for a moment. In my society - even meditation seems to be a privilege for those few who are able to concentrate enough to tap into the elusive 'present.'
As the animated film 'Kung Fu Panda' says:
'There is a saying: Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present.'
I'd like to practice receiving the present of THE POWERFUL PRESENT.
In April 2020, while experiencing her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling.
Header Art: Daniel Landerman