December 29, 2020 § 4 Comments
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
December 29, 2020 § Leave a comment
Poverty of the mind is poverty of the soul.
The soul is the intent behind every breath we take.
Here we are in a land where mankind uses less than .00002% of his cognitive abilities. Why is that? Is it by choice or force?
Trauma and war walk hand in hand like lovers, stalking our shadows in every corner of the land.
There is no shade, and no mercy for intellectuals.
December 29, 2020 § 1 Comment
It is the most lonely feeling in the world.
The most lonely, lost sensation.
Knowing the G-d you were trained to love and fear does not exist, that you are in essence, like every man, utterly alone.
There must be some other explanation for your creation and existence, however, and once you have stumbled upon this piece of information, you feel less like killing yourself, and more curious than ever.
Mankind- the moral, empathetic, fragile creature, that we so desperately try to eradicate and yet rescue, every twenty years or so- this painful rainbow peaks your curiosity.
For what is the object of living, if not to understand the subconscious of this evasive creature?
Study yourself, and others.
December 14, 2020 § 1 Comment
My grandmother spent most of her adult life in chronic pain. When she fell ill as a teenager, complications arose that led to a life of suffering and physical anguish. Having four children did not detract from her problems. Despite her lot, she always insisted that G-d both existed and was wholly good. I could not see it. If creation was a reflection of its creator, how could G- d both exist and be good? There must be an element of G-d which is evil, with intent.
My grandfather was the youngest of nine children, born in a valley and raised behind a chimney. When his ticket to England finally arrived, he embraced his escape quietly and with reserve. He was so loved that when he died on the fourth night of Chanukah, hundreds came to lay him with love deep in the silent, waiting earth. His loss was a trauma that rang in my ears for many years. I was in Scotland, travelling, adventuring, when he slipped away. The lists of things I had noted to tell him, left unsaid. His hat left untouched by the door a decade later. My grandfather, who willed my mother into this world with love and caution, a figure who haunts me in adulthood, who sat at the top of our family tree, morally adjusting us from time to time. It takes generations to breed such a heart.
I don’t know, all these years later, if G-d both exists and is wholly good. I can only bear witness to the pure, quiet hearts of my grandparents, who believed this to be the only acceptable truth.
December 3, 2020 § 1 Comment
The war being fought
So neatly in my heart
Is like the clean kill
Of a young doe.
No dream can cut through the reality
And the veracity of these mountains.
I stand and look up at you, Amman-
You shine so brightly
And I see you through a glass, darkly.
What more is there to say?
Until we make peace,
We live, separately.
December 1, 2020 § 3 Comments
Jerusalem drew us to her,
And then, divided, conquered-
Still I can never completely leave you, my love.
Neither can Ahmad. He waits for his plane like a man in exile, without a permit, and his heart skips a beat when his name is called out.
What has he done now?
What have we all done, now?