Maybe I Was Wrong About You All

The world feels darker and lonelier today and it makes me wonder if I was wrong about you. Some may ask if that is directed in a collective and or individual manner and I don’t know how I want to respond.

Because the overarching theme is directed a larger group but than it is narrowed to Facebook friends.

I can look at some of you and say I think we we met when I was maybe 34 and that we have 21 years of history. It is hard to remember when you weren’t part of my life and seems inconceivable you wouldn’t be forever.

I can do the same with people who go back much further and wonder how we got to this place and ask if this is just a moment in time and that what feels off will be resolved.

It is a reasonable question because of what is going on in the background. The time between 10/7 and the present has been filled with some horrible moment and constant stress.

The idea that Hersh, Carmel, Eden, Almog, Alex and Or survived about 330 days in captivity only to be murdered infuriates me.

And the quiet of so many who could and should speak out bothers me. The world burns and the roar of their silence is deafening.

Is this who you are? Is this who we are? Is this who I am?

What’s Meant For You Won’t Go Past You

I got into it with someone recently and they asked me if I understood how offensive I was being. I told them good relationships can take it and that you can’t fix what you don’t know is broken.

I told them if they weren’t interested in being honest it was time to get out.

This isn’t who I have always been. In some ways I was softer and kinder before but if you are in the trusted circle I need naked honesty even when it is scary.

And that is not easy because sometimes we wonder if people will misunderstand our words or if we misunderstand theirs.

So I rely to an extent on what’s meant for you won’t go past you. I am ok with hearing that things are rough and people need time to figure crap out and that might not be something I am a part of.

I have told them to say it to my face not to be a tough guy but because I want the eye contact and to read the body language.

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These masks we we wear are wearing me out a bit. I keep thinking again about the silence and those who have told me the world likes dead Jews.

I have grudgingly accepted that my generation got lucky and we grew up in a time when antisemitism seemed like something that happens to others, not us.

But we see that is not true and it is not hard to find stories like this one. Not hard to find stories about campus outrages and more.

Maybe Yossi Klein Halevi was spot on when he wrote this is a war against the return of Jewish helplessness. Maybe it is part of why it is so easy to say we’re not going back with as much emphasis.

Maybe people are numb and that is why so far have liked and or commented on the most recent post about the finding of the six who were murdered by Hamas.

Maybe my fellow tribesmen and I have put out so much we have saturated the feeds and brains of our fellows.

But I am not so sure about that. I am not so sure about how many people would help me if I asked for it and how many would help those they know as pixels on the screen of an article they may not have read.

I am pretty sure not many would notice if I stopped posting and that my absence by some wouldn’t register at all.

Life gets busy and those we don’t engage with fade and even those who we speak with can sink into the recesses of memory.

Operating off of three hours of sleep isn’t particularly helpful for figuring things like this out. Maybe it is about expressing the pain and disappointment.

Every death of a hostage feels personal because of the situation but Hersh really hits home. He was close in age to my son and I have many friends in common with Rachel and Jon.

And as the longtime readers know I came close to making aliyah so it is not hard to place myself in this situation, b it right or wrong.

Maybe Later, Maybe Never

Only a few of you know I stopped writing for a long time. There wasn’t any particular reason, it just sort of happened.

And then I got pushed into picking up the pen and I started again. I fell in love with what I had forgotten I had loved. I told people to be careful that if they read my words they’d hear my voice and get sucked back in.

Sometimes I told them to remember it would be even more powerful in person and that if they didn’t want to fall under my spell they ought not to spend time alone with me.

My eyes see much and my soul reaches through time and space to connect with those who are connected. Some things written years ago make more sense in the present in a way that makes me wonder if I had clairvoyance once upon a time.

I no longer remember when you were not a part of me, not in a real sense. And if we should ever be separated, truly separated my soul would always remember. Be it ten minutes or ten years I know that it would take but a moment for it all to come back.

You can’t see me smiling or feel the ease in my entire being now but it is there because I found my north star again.

The empty dull ache is still there but sometimes when you dig into things and let yourself drift through time and space you reach an oasis and get a chance to breathe.

A chance to center and regroup and that is where I am at now. It might last for a minute or a month but I’ll take it because my batteries are recharging and for this one moment in time that is enough.

I feel like the magician has tapped me on the shoulder and opened my eyes again so that I can see clearly.

And that is part of why I appreciate Emily’s quote, you have to greet each dawn and open the doors as you come open upon them.

The darkness never lasts and we come one step closer to doing more than chasing the echoes of the future.

My heart aches for Hersh’s family and those of the other hostages. May they find comfort in our community and find their own reason to get up and get after it again.