(This is from a site called 'Post Secrets', where people anonymously send in postcards revealing their innermost thoughts. Lots of them are pretty suicidal and I thought the site was inadvertently romanticising suicide so I don't look there anymore, but some of the cards are great.)
Leonie, I love you deeply. Thank you for your comment. The fact that you're now a plane ride away causes me huge grief. Of all the uncountable people I've known over the course of my lifetime (thus far), why did not one of us have the foresight to become a pilot?
So rather than mope, this week was do-something-about-the-situation week. I resolved not to stay at home alone with my computer humming at me but to be out as much as possible, so I planned to visit Sara from Leighton Buzzard, a close friend and fellow English convert my age, now at home in Beitar Illit looking after baby number eight; Justine, fellow Brit and revered career-woman looking after baby number one somewhere near the satellite station; Ruth the journalist for the Jerusalem Post (although meetings with her are best conducted with beer) and Tamar Toyoko from Japan, who works at the university library buying books on Judaism in Japanese. I planned to write, obviously, taking my laptop to either at the uni library or a cafe in Emek Refaim. This week would be completely different. I'd be out in the world and ready to feel alive. Except none of those events materialised because Maor was at home sick.
Tant pis, as they say in France. There were things I could do from home: I called the one serious Ulpan to ask about their January course, joined an online writers in Israel email list forum thing asking if anyone was interested in creating a book group for writers in Jerusalem, got nine replies - two from Tel Aviv saying they were sad I didn't live there, and one from England - and our first meeting is on Sunday night. I got offered a big website writing job (30-40 pages!) for a post production company and wrote the pitch/proposal for that, which I hope to get, and learned wonderful things about my own language from one of my students, Yair. Like that regardless and irregardless mean the same thing - a word and it's opposite have the same meaning! And irregardless is a double negative, which is just dumb, hence the dictionary recommendation not to use it.
(I love these flowers and have no idea what they're called. Anyone know?)
Jerusalem voted for a new mayor this week, leaving the street strewn with propoganda pamphlets and banners. I didn't vote (don't tell Emmeline Pankhurst or Linda the ex-and-now- anti-Haredi woman at work) because of a you-didn't-tell-me-that-paper-was-a-voting-slip, yes-I-did type scenario I won't go into. I'm so not into politics despite having an A level in it. But now I might start writing a blog for The Independent, which will be news-based and on Jerusalem, so I guess I should start reading newspapers and keeping abreast of current events and political matters. Oh man, excuse me while I yawn.
Wow, that's such a weird picture, i think I'd better post one of me looking a bit less like Shrek.
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This week my aim is to start yoga but Tai Chi is calling me too. I loved standing and watching the pensioners in Japan doing Tai Chi en-masse in the park early in the morning or on my way home in the evening - it was like they were moving in slow motion and I was walking at the wrong speed, so I'd stop and be transfixed by them for ages, all moving in synchronicity, a hundred people doing a beautiful slow hypnotic dance.
I still felt pretty shite all week, to tell the truth, but other factors were involved in that and resolutions don't fall in one's lap in a plop. Next week I'm out and about and aim to have more fun. Anyone free and in a good mood, welcome.
6 comments:
The Gift of a Grateful Heart
To look at our human talents as gifts-gifts that are presumably from G-d- is realistic. The nature v. nurture debate has raged for centuries without the slightest resolution. If you are blessed with a pleasant disposition, you'd be on shaky ground to simply ascribe it to your upbringing. It would be equally shaky just to ascribe to your heredity. Or a mixture of both. You just don't know. So why not regard your unpleasant disposition, depression,as a mysterious gift from G-d. Such an act of realistic intellectual humility tends to encourage a grateful sense of wonder.
It is emotionally as well as intellectually humble.All blessings are potential curses; there are side effects.For instance, the downside of the gift of a grateful heart is a chronic sense of obligation.
Another blessing is having a strong will; it does not guarantee success; it may create a Hitler, but a weak will pretty much guarantees failure. All those who do well in psychotherapy, for instance, have that mysterious will to grow which the apathetic lack. There is a side effect, however. he down side of a strong will is a bad temper. Any strong willed person has a lot of learning to do to effectively manage her anger.
In our Judo-Christian culture the gift of anger is given expression mainly through the masculine. The archetypal Masculine needs that energy to serve and protect the Family,Tribe,Culture and so on. Defend the boundaries.In order not to have Sissies doing that job, men are bred not to cry, to stuff their grief. Women, on the other hand/foot,traditionally stay home at the centre of the family/culture
and mourn, cry, weep and sob; Grieve. Hence we have those culturally stereotypical expressions;"Boys dont cry!" The One for women is "Girls dont get angry!"
An unconscious agreement in a marriage is "You cry for me and I'll rage for you".
A women's boundaries have to remain amorphous to allow the vast amount of parallel processing and multi-tasking wizardry that she typically possesses.Depression for her is a sign that she needs her space, kick out the immigrants for a while.Whereas, typically, depression for a male is a sign of too much self-containment, he needs to expand his boundaries; emotionally, intellectualy and physically; he's become cut-off.
So my guess, Dear Emma,is that you feel angry about feeling used up by your own commitment to honor your obligations to Family, Religion and over=archingly the expectations of your peers that that is your lot in life.
A depression is really a suppression, and you are the oppressor of your Self,your Sovereign Identity, your Creative genie. They are knocking at the boundaries of your stereotyped psyche and asking to be included and for you to be more inclusive of them.
The flower is hibiscus and it makes a great tea. The deer eat them off our lawns so I can't keep them.
I'm so glad I didn't pay a psychiatrist hundreds of dollars to tell me that; it would have been worth it if I had but now I can spend that money on other things - ideally coming to Texas next year to see you.
Problem is, the humility sits so heavily sometimes that any remaining sense of wonder is replaced with a sense of overwhelming grief. This grief, funnily enough, started with my arrival into this country and walking away from the life I'd grown surprisingly and comfortably into for the last five years, where I could help my children with their schoolwork until PhD level, and I could read a decent paper if I wanted to, see friends that I could talk and laugh with or get enriching books out of good libraries.
Ultimate, long-lasting, true freedom, such as the kind I experienced in my youth, makes obligation seem all the more binding once it descends. Family is a beautiful gift with iron weights attached, and for free spirits - or ones that are restless for knowledge and experience - that's a tricky little quandary. When I feel the need to run I can't run far because I have to pick the kids up from school, which in Israel is at lunchtime. When I think a trip to Guatemala or Zambia would be just the thing to totally sort my wanderlust out, I have to remember there are five people depending on me on a daily basis and there will be for years to come. Sometimes the oppressed Sovereign self, the Creative Genie, needs things that aren't conducive to the stability of a family unit. And that's fine -I'm not going far from the kids, and not for long. My body isn't, anyway. My soul flies off all the time and has amazing adventures with incredible people while my body hangs out another batch of washing and sweeps the floor again.
As for the anger: I always considered anger - in the scariest looking people covered in tattoos, the chunkiest piercings and the sternest demeanors - to be merely the flower, the root of which is sadness. I'm not saying all anger comes from pain or that all sad people express it as anger, but I think anger is a strong word to use in this situation. Frustration is a better one. A strong will drives me forward, the target is there, the arrow is pointed, the bow arched but the wind isn't favourable or the multitude of effing menial tasks there are to do in the short batch of alloted free time stand like soldiers in front of the bullseye. But that could be just a crap excuse.
Maybe the sense of obligation refers more to other commitments: ones we make to ourselves and ones we make to others. I know from previous experience how it works - when something needs to change or a decision needs to be reached, I'm not left in peace until I do something about it. It's just not always clear what the answer is.
Thanks, Pa. I appreciate it.
And thanks Gwynne. I've drunk it without knowing that's what I'm imbibing.
Reading over your note to Guy, I realized that oftentimes I think/remember backward, moving my time element about 10 years ahead and think before I make a decision, how I might view that decision 10 years from now. I also do this with teens with whom I counsel...it helps to reflect on the whole. I think you are giving a remarkable gift to your children and you will see the gift more clearly after they have grown and gone away from you....memories are everything when you grow old like me and sacred memories are all that gives us peace in the end.
I am with you on this however...been there, done that.
"My soul flies off all the time and has amazing adventures with incredible people while my body hangs out another batch of washing and sweeps the floor again".
That comment is perfect Zen.
After all, wherever you go, there you are, as the saying goes.Chopping sticks, carrying water.
Your grief is very understandable. I'm often in a state of mourning for the very experiences I wish I was able to have if my loved ones weren't half a world away.
I can be driving down the 'ol Texas highway when I'm totally and out of nowhere overcome with a sense of grief and displacement as my unconscious mind is driving the car and my conscious mind is wondering what the f--k I'm doing here.
Someone once gave me a whole list of 'descriptive words'. It was intended to help writers create vivid and accurate images in the readers mind. If one asks most people "How are you?" you get "Good", and you're left to guess by the tone of their voices how they really feel. Not " I feel really agitated, angry, annoyed, obnoxious and wrathful and could kill the next person who looks at me wrongly"
I use this list all the time with my clients when we go into emotional issues, and as i dialogue with their innate/unconscious I'm amazed at how specific their inner beings want to get. The other week my clients innate sent me to my list and under the heading Anger/Hostility, the word terse was chosen. Her conscious mind went to town on that word even indentifying it in her mother and grandmother. A family heirloom of terseness!
The orange flower - looks like a hibiscus to me. They bloom for only one day. And don't make good cut flowers - they droop right after you get them in the house and into a bowl of water thinking you're going to have a lovely display on your kitchen table.
And I'm surprised that irregardless is even in the dictionary. I thought it was a non-word - and I guess the dictionaries are getting with the program of telling people not to use non-words, so they include them and say they're not recommended. Similar situation with hopefully. It's most often used improperly. Like "Hopefully you'll come on Friday." Not unless you're coming with hope in your soul. Or soap in your hole, as Guy would say.
Hannah used to answer a "how was your day?" question with "good." This year, since we've repeatedly told her that good isn't very descriptive or informative, her response has become "fine." But she talks when she chooses very openly and the more I don't ask her anything, the more she talks. I learn all kinds of things when I just be – quietly. Will, fortunately, is more of a talker than Hannah. He volunteers things that I don't even expect, which is useful and fun and bonding.
His mother, sister, their men, and he are coming for Thanksgiving this Thursday. (Guy's favorite holiday) I'm making turkey stock today - never before in my life. Usually I just boil the turkey bits found in the "cavities" to make my gravy on Thanksgiving Day. I always read the New York Times Food section on Wednesday - as we all love food - and they suggested that homemade stock and gravy from scratch make all the diff. So I got up this morning, and after my coffee, headed out to Whole Foods – our favorite natural foods grocery – and got the turkey and other things needed. The recipe says it takes 9 hours, but I think before I'm done, it will be more like 12. But what fun and how satisfying. It will smell like turkey in here all week!
It's my favorite week of the year. Family holiday with a big meal and none of the stress of gift giving. None of the expense. Plenty of wine and food and company and just a big cooking day, which is always satisfying for me. We used to have the tradition of going ice skating after dinner and my mom would always go with us. But for years now, there has been no ice rink outside. It was in downtown, close by for us, and a great way to work off too much turkey and wine and have an exhilarating time in the cool thanksgiving evening with friends. This year the rink is back and I'm so excited and so is Hannah. So you can find us all there around 8pm after our fat bellies are full and we're lethargic from the day of eating and drinking wine and lounging around the table with friends. Wish you'd come! Bring all the kids.
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