An adventure awaits.
The leg hits the gas and the journey begins: Expectation rises. Hope, wish, wonder.... Planning for something. Planning for nothing. And then fear shows up. Of course. It always does. And so do anxiousness. Irritation. Agony. What if the expectation fails to deliver? What if the adventure is meh? All the feels together at once. Like an avalanche. An avalanche of wonder, hope, excitement, fear, anxiety. WHAT IF. What if this... what if that... Beginning a journey is being open to a possibility. Being open to ALL possibilities. For something... or nothing. Que Sera Sera. The moment before - is the leg hitting the gas. The adventure -- is the leg hitting the break. Where do we land in? What did we enter? What part of the dream is this? IS this a dream? Is anything a dream? This break... is a break from what, exactly? An avalanche of feelings on a sunny afternoon day. On top of a mountain - where we look at the view - we really look inside. Perspective out is perspective in. The journey starts HIGH, and continues INWARD. Upward and inward. Upward and inward. Upward and inward.
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If you had one wish, what would it be?
Would you wish you never aged again, or even -- never died? Would you wish for an end to human suffering? Would you wish to become a millionaire? Would you wish for true love? Would you wish for power, success, achievement? Would you wish for happiness, joy, satisfaction? Would you wish for intelligence? To know every language on earth? Would you wish you could time travel? Would you wish for a pony? For a house? For a car? Would you wish for a superpower? To be invisible, run fast, be abnormally strong? Would you wish to have the body of a Victoria's Secret model? Or a gladiator? Would you wish to be a gifted writer, or a painter, or a musician? Would you wish for your deceased loved ones to be alive once again? Would you wish to fly to space? Would you wish for mother earth to replenish and for climate change to no longer be a concern? Would you wish to come back for another run at this thing called life? Would you wish for a child? Would you wish to once again BE a child? Truth is, in life we are given many wishes. Sure, they may not be as grand as most of those I listed are... but they are wishes nonetheless and they were granted to us the moment we took the first breath of life. If we don't focus all of our attention on what we DON'T have, we can begin to see what we DO have. I wish us all a sense of gratitude. Gratitude for the wishes already fulfilled by the time we stepped out of the womb and into the light. Gratitude to simply be alive. To be here. To simply... BE. RELEASE
(verb) *Allow or enable to escape from confinement; set free. *Allow (something) to move, act, or flow freely. My subconscious decided to buzz in my ears today the word 'Release' over and over and over again! Naturally, I looked the word up, and the definition up above fits what I had in mind for this word, pretty perfectly. I don't know why this word circulated in my mind. I must feel imprisoned by something. Every time I heard that little voice urging me to 'release', I took a breath. And with every breath the voice became quiet. A simple act of breathing, or shall I say the awareness of breathing - leads to release of something. Take a breath and see what gets released in you... So you want to be a writer, and you ask: How? What? When?
Write however YOU want to write. On a notebook? On your mac? In your phone? Write whatever YOU want to write. The next great novel? A screenplay? A rap song? Write when YOU want to write. At dawn? At your lunch break? At the late hours of the night? But to know how, and what and when YOU would like to write. You must know who YOU are. But fear not -- Writing can reveal YOU to you, if you -- Write beyond the page. What is the page, anyways? Be it blank, or striped, or boxed. A page has a border, a finite ending. Your inner life does not. Write with your heart, not with a pen. What is a pen? A pen is how you color your life. But it has only one color, and one texture. Your heart does not. Write as if you are asleep. What is sleep, anyway? We think it's rest, retreat, resignation. But it's when we connect to our dreams. Our dreams are the inner life speaking. If you take one thing from this, may it be....: Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Simply... WRITE. 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? Beat. SOUL: Get in the vibe to meditate... and you'll find out. Dear Hurt,
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. Goodbye. ~T. 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.... TENACITY (noun) *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. *** |
AuthorIn 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. Categories
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April 2024
Header Art: Daniel Landerman |