The reckoning poem - Associative writing

the most impossible things in life are those we keep ourselves from
the bee-keeper enslaves those feeding him
feeding infants is a mission we cant all escape
escaping reality is my main mission
missions - we design, we fail, we recycle, we celebrate
celebrating death is the most sensible way to live
live in fear makes no sense, better rest in peace
the peace process involves war, the war process involves pieces of flesh, torn
torn from my home, my family offers no refuge
refuge i find no-where but inside
my insides are empty and silent since i dragged god away
crying, i deny my god entrance to my hallowed dwellings
i deny god, till i am reborn, strengthened enough to recreate us both
recreation is a path away from one boredom to another
other people are a distraction, how can we live without them?
music is like that old aching scar, full of deep feeling and truth
the truth is whatever works, for you, who knows what works for me?
micro-truths all jumbled meaninglessly, weakly, i stare into the void
the gaping smile of the void is smiling, virgin opportunity
the feminine secret, abused by all, forgotten by the very few
making others happy - prostitution, making myself happy - egotism
the strength of life marches me on, beyond reach of rationalism
philosophy is for the weak, the strong have ignorance
ignoring my warnings, i publish this piece.

Pure of heart

How do you calm a worrying mother, when your calming thoughts are exactly those which didn't let her sleep through the night? How do you share your thoughts and feelings with a spouse, when you are terrified they might shatter you apart; though you are full of love. How do you entertain your father at the dinner table when you know your ideas might drive him crazy, leaving you orphaned? How can you look yourself in the mirror when your eyes are full of shame, shame of aspiring to higher things while you are chained – by your own will?

I do not know the answers, but I do know that hiding by keeping everybody happy is not a solution, from experience.

I used to see myself as a boy with many masks, master of illusion, faking identities and switching suits by need. Spinning around myself so much in disguise that I lost track of who I was, swearing never again. Never again did that happen, but instead of switching disguises I found myself slammed inside one that pleasured everyone, almost. I felt unsatisfied, wondering what it could be since everything was so 'perfect', until it hit me.

And now, looking around for my path of redemption, closely chasing my new-found revelation, I see I have chained myself in so many ways. I had weighed myself down with so many belongings that I am drowning. Unable to lift myself up, I consider burying myself deeper still, hoping it would dull the pain, strangle the yearning for air.

So don't bother calling mom, I can't comfort you, you have every reason to worry. I'm trying to lift far too many things, too much for my exploding heart, I can't hold yours too.

BFF, or till you think differently

How can I hope to make you understand, why I do what I do;

Once I was happily content to be, as I was, where I was;

Helpless now I stand with him, watching older dreams grow dim;

Oh, what a melancholy choice this is – wanting home, wanting him;

There where my heart has settled long ago - I must go, I must go!

(excerpts from 'Far from the home I love', Fiddler on the Roof)

'I pity your soul', he told me, 'if you continue to go on with the path you have chosen'. He suggested I had a free choice of choosing down which path to tread on, as if that choice hasn't been made and sealed long ago.

This was the grim end of a conversation I had on the last Rosh-Hashana, the holiday celebrating new beginnings, of forgiveness and brotherhood. Lately many of those I recognized as friends, people I trust and love, turn cold and lose touch when they get a drift of what I'm going through. Liberal ideas and trends turn out hollow when it comes to a friend in transition, striving for higher grounds, experimenting with concepts and ideals.

Most of my best friends are religious, most of them are recognized religious figures in their society, does that mean I have to disconnect? Shun and be shunned? I don't think so!

After the "uplifting" arrogance-treatment on Rosh-Hashana I didn't know where I'll be on Yom-Kippur, somewhere I could go through the traditional experience without needing to apologize for loving it without really buying the whole faith package. It's ironic that I ended up in a very strict orthodox yeshiva, praying alongside fervent believers, rabbis living secluded lives totally devoted to G-d, and young wanabees imitating the moves and tears of the seasoned students. There, my ideology and set of beliefs weren't questioned, the surrounding practitioners were too busy with themselves, and I had some clear private space to meditate. Time to meditate upon forgiveness, upon a lonely G-d never to understood by those who he loves, upon a society that never apologizes to their religious-frenzy road kill since it's Kosher. As if a rabbinical permission makes it morally fine to bleed a fellow Jew.

I've heard atheists say quite a lot about religions being responsible for killings along history, not yet have I heard talk about the bleeding hearts of those who love these archaic structures while being stabbed by them.

Why can't a friend hold me tight and tell me that friendship does not lie only on mutual beliefs, but on something deeper that is able to honor diversity?

Indeed, my everyday life involves seesawing between two different worlds – physical and conceptual, experimental and mythological, practical and cultural; I don't need you to bring my attention to it, neither do I need you to nudge me towards the "right" decision, all I need you is to be my friend.

Like the 'Uncle Moishe' song –

Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow;

Don't walk behind me, I may not lead;

Just walk beside me and be my friend.