um, fireworks in jerusalem… sweet, but a little weird.
אבישי: wow, thank you for your help, you have been so generous, i am not used to that here…
me: oh, i’m so glad i could, so many people have been helping me since i got here
אבישי: really? not something i’m used to here…
me: well, i guess i am only four months old…
i had 5 goals for today:
-1- toar sheni office to check my status – (done with success)
-2- letter of acceptance for scholarship – (done with success)
-3- course schedule so i can attend a couse – (done with success)
-4- conference on israel in the world – (attended with success)
-5- attend a class – (not done; tried, but class was moved or canceled)
that is the FIRST time i went to Bar Ilan to get something done and has non-frustrating sucess!
it was an important visit to get my morale up now that it seems to be the plan for the next couple of years. being there reminded me what i’m about, part of why i am here. i need a push, i need reminders. that was the first major one. i’m feeling re-energized.
also: it’s really something to be attending a university that posts ‘asher yatzar’ outside the bathroom doors. zionism.
– yesterday was my 4 month anniversary. i’m not much of a counter, but other people are, so there.
– in honor of my newfound community-feeling, which isn’t yet complete, i threw a shabbat dinner for 21 people friday night. that’s A LOT of raw chicken. it felt great feeding guests in my Jerusalem apartment. it felt great that people down the block could hear my guests singing zmirot. it felt awesome watching lots of jewish people who didnt know each other before mingling and chilling and being jewish. in my care.
– tomorrow is my spoken-hebrew ulpan test! here goes.
applied for my teudat ma’avar –
booked a ticket back to new york –
flight is june 16 and open –
the end is in the beginning.
i ran, ran over hills and then mountains to make a change, to learn, to grow, to become a potential, and i’m not done. not done at all. i stared down what was ‘now’ and i made it ‘then’ and now is here again.
i ran to passion to run from passion to find it where i never thought it could be.
and the distinction i found…
fire passion excites you, tingles you, makes it unbareable to sit in one place, moves you, it burns you and scars you, it consumes you in its warmth and heat, stealing you, it lights your heart in flames that may take forever to vanquish…
water passion is cool, calm, you take it in slowly in waves of soft gulps for your strength, for your sustenance, sweeping, sweeping, sweeping over you, through you, within you and carries you and wraps you in its waves, gentle, calm, serene, a flowing passion of now and time and eternity…
souls are multi purposed i think. souls are programmed to find one another. strong souls find the other. strong souls realize what they need to do. what they have the power to do.
i’m not done. we’ll never be done. it’s only the beginning, sprung from the end, which made it here, to this place, safely – from the beginning of all ends.
She spotted him and ran. Ran like a prisoner to freedom. Rowen. Like a rabbit escaping preydom. She ran with urgency. Rowen.
She threw her arms around him, and burst into tears in his chest. She wept and held her arms tightly around him, despite his not returning the motion. He stood, like a statue, and she wept. It bellowed forth from her insides, waterfalling across her face and down her neck, sliding beneath her shirt and between her breasts. Yes, she was trapped. Trapped into a corner by secrets and lies and betrayal and forgiveness and circumstance.
Her lips found his, her warm, pink lips, his cold and dry. She kissed him, felt inside him, searched deeply in his mouth and hers.
She knew then that it was over. That didn’t make her weep. His arms lay limp next to his body; he didn’t move a muscle or seem to breathe.
She could live in a fantasy or she could live.
She picked up her head, smoothed her shirt and hair, and picked up her saddle bag.
“Thank you,” she said, sensing his uneasiness, and left.
She crept up to the silvery web with the ease of a nightcat on glowworms; the same smooth motion, the rocking slightly back and forth. She slowly willed her finger towards the strands and with the greatest caution, laid one tip on the glowing strings. They were sticky and soft, and comforting. A smile slowed across her cheeks and she felt the moonshine in her heart. Comforting, the web was. Comforting and soft and serene and she was suddenly protected from the night, from the chill, from the fatigue and sickness that lay embedded in her body. Her heart was aglow; was comforted. The web…
If it were an artform, it would be as green as a misty midland forest, and the deep vines of the Sheti ground would demonstrate its pace. The vines that could wrap their coily fingers around a man like a rat’s paw on a pit; tightening upon his bare neck with a suffocation not known to those who still live whole. It changes that man; it molds, distorts, chokes, heaves. The taint is like thick black oil paste; a poison that stops at nobody’s command, that takes over Nobody and makes him stop to breathe himself.
And there she lay, suffering, lamenting, reaching, feeling, glowing…