Presence is something that surrounds us and supports us. Daily, we are surrounded by people who hold the world around us together. Like glue, they provide the support network necessary to breathe clean air and to put your right foot in front of the other in the creation of a stride. Without presence, we would not be able to be the people we are. We rely on others, on the world, for the simple, common answer of “this is how the world works”.
During times of loneliness I often look around and search for presence. The lonely feeling is created by a lack in the presence of the support network we need to propel us on our daily journeys, beginning with stepping out of the front door early in the morning.
Presence is a strong force. It’s not about being surrounded by thousands of people or about being home alone late at night. It’s not about sitting at a big family dinner with everyone from your parents to your third cousins present. It’s not about being in a classroom of twenty familiar faces. Presence is about when you have what you need, who you need, surrounding and supporting you. Simply being there, listening, holding, and comforting another is a stronger force than anything I can imagine. Being attentive to someone, with open ears and open arms is the most attentive thing you can do. It’s selfless. It’s caring for someone and putting your own needs aside. It’s nodding, repeating, and agreeing, even when you disagree.
I learned through an experience this week that presence can comfort the saddest of us. It can calm the frustrated, sooth the hurt, and provide for you in the hardest moments. My love for those who have reached out to me, in good times and bad, with open ears, arms, and most importantly, hearts, has drawn me to understand the importance of presence and that I know I must make it a priority to reciprocate this feeling to others around me.
Wednesday, May 27
Tuesday, May 26
welcome back
The simple phrase “Have a great day” is beautiful to both say and hear. My ability to properly converse in America has brought me back to my positive self. I am able to say what I want, when I want, to who I want. Communication is so vital to functioning in the society you are in. I need to get to the point where I am able to do this properly in Israel or I don’t see a future in happily living there for the rest of my life. I’m sure I can learn enough Hebrew to survive and function as part of society, but the basic fact that English is my native language, the language where I can fluidly express my thoughts, feelings, and ideas, is something that cannot be ignored.
I went to Target yesterday and realized how easy it is to walk through one doorway and see everything you would ever need for life right before your eyes. Really, this doesn’t happen everywhere. Don’t get my wrong, I love shopping in Israel but the difficulty of searching at a different store for each of the fifteen items on my shopping list can get very tiring.
I’m in New York though. It’s not so temporary either. I have an apartment that I will officially move into on Monday. I have friends who live subway rides away throughout the island of Manhattan. I feel like a small fish in a huge, endless ocean. I don’t know any of the tricks to living here and I don’t know where to begin. But I do know that I have to begin somewhere and that I will begin somewhere and that soon enough, I will get to a point where I am comfortable.
I can’t believe how tumultuous my arrival in America was and I take that as a strong sign that America is not the place for me, despite my positive communication and shopping experiences. I feel like the stuffed animal in the toy vending machine, while my family is the claw. It has a terrible grip on me. It’s barely holding me at all and my fur is about to disconnect from my body and drop me flat on my face. But it hasn’t yet. I’m just dangling there. Hanging over the world, struggling to sit up straight but still being physically supported by the claw above.
I need to be dropped. I need to fall, hard. I need to experience the world without the claw, from the bottom, with everyone else. I need to find my way up again, financially, socially, and emotionally. I can’t dangle anymore because it hurts too much. I’m not being held like a winning stuffed animal would prior to being dropped down into the prize bin.
Separation is hard, especially from those who bring you into the world and ultimately raise you. I don’t think this should ever stop, but in my own life, it will. I’m sorry if people get hurt along the way but I need to take out the loans, settle into this new city (and ultimately into a new country), and face the world for the first time without being held up at all.
I went to Target yesterday and realized how easy it is to walk through one doorway and see everything you would ever need for life right before your eyes. Really, this doesn’t happen everywhere. Don’t get my wrong, I love shopping in Israel but the difficulty of searching at a different store for each of the fifteen items on my shopping list can get very tiring.
I’m in New York though. It’s not so temporary either. I have an apartment that I will officially move into on Monday. I have friends who live subway rides away throughout the island of Manhattan. I feel like a small fish in a huge, endless ocean. I don’t know any of the tricks to living here and I don’t know where to begin. But I do know that I have to begin somewhere and that I will begin somewhere and that soon enough, I will get to a point where I am comfortable.
I can’t believe how tumultuous my arrival in America was and I take that as a strong sign that America is not the place for me, despite my positive communication and shopping experiences. I feel like the stuffed animal in the toy vending machine, while my family is the claw. It has a terrible grip on me. It’s barely holding me at all and my fur is about to disconnect from my body and drop me flat on my face. But it hasn’t yet. I’m just dangling there. Hanging over the world, struggling to sit up straight but still being physically supported by the claw above.
I need to be dropped. I need to fall, hard. I need to experience the world without the claw, from the bottom, with everyone else. I need to find my way up again, financially, socially, and emotionally. I can’t dangle anymore because it hurts too much. I’m not being held like a winning stuffed animal would prior to being dropped down into the prize bin.
Separation is hard, especially from those who bring you into the world and ultimately raise you. I don’t think this should ever stop, but in my own life, it will. I’m sorry if people get hurt along the way but I need to take out the loans, settle into this new city (and ultimately into a new country), and face the world for the first time without being held up at all.
Monday, May 18
a winding road
My days left in Israel are rapidly transforming into memories while slowly disappearing before my eyes. I have a mere seven days left here on this trip to Israel. I currently sit here as an American tourist in a foreign country. I don't even have a student visa. Next time I come back, I may be Israeli. I have many feelings toward this (making aliyah) but I don't know how to put them into words yet.
This trip has been fabulous so far. I don't know how I could ever manage to put these last few months into words either. My growth, both physically and spiritually, has far surpassed any of my aspirations coming into this experience. I have learned so much about myself in relation to the world around me, to Judaism, to God, and to my individual growth. I have experienced people and places that surpass anything I could have ever envisioned. I have seen people dressed in so many different ways and speaking so many different languages. I have experienced the world through a special, unique lens that has allowed me to become saturated in the culture around me. At times I felt as if I were drowning but it was always a good drowning, one where I was still breathing. Being overwhelmed (especially on a spiritual level) became a common feeling. I learned to open my eyes a lot wider on this trip. There were days when I would wake up, look around me, and not believe where I was. Whether it was submersed in a sea of black hats on the 2 going home, driving a friend's sports car around the Kineret, walking into Magen David Adom all alone to donate blood, or sitting on a picnic blanket while bbqing at Gan Sacher for Independence Day with friends, I was always somewhere new. There were weeks that I would travel for hours upon hours across the country and back, experiencing desert, sea, lakes, mountains, city, and resorts, all within days.
I sit here on the staircase at school and look around me. I see faces walking by my that I have known for a very short period of time. Yet somehow, they have become my best friends. We have built something together. We have built ourselves, our community, our world. We have gone through the good and the bad, the educational and the not-so-educational, the bar nights and the movie nights. Together, we have questioned ourselves and the world around us. Our conversations have become the thread that has woven itself through the past few months and leaves me here today. I am filled with the words of many languages, spoken from many people, that I will take with my for the rest of my life.
I have realized that I am capable of many things. I am in control of my life for the first time ever. Financially, I have come into myself. I have learned to budget my money, my time, and my education. I have begun to understand the consequences of actions, and have really seen the importance of analyzing causes and effects prior to making big decisions. I have learned balance. Emotionally, I have discovered outlets of support, ranging from teachers, to close friends, to my journal. I have learned how to be independent and how to have alone time. I couldn't do that before. I would cry from the fear of being alone. But I have realized that being alone is beautiful. I experienced this for the first time on an independent, spontaneous trip to Pisa, Italy. I traveled there, explored, and learned. I took pictures, soaked in the Italian sun, and became one with the world around me. I felt content that day while sitting on the bright green grass underneath the leaning tower.
So this winding road must continue. And on it, you will find me, moving along. Whether it be through an airplane, a car, a train, a bus, or simply by moving my feet, I will somehow reach the next destination on my journey. My life has become a puzzle that I have realized is not worth solving. I don't know how to solve it. Even if all the pieces are sitting right before me on the table, I will not be able to solve it correctly. And every time I think I can complete it, I need to take a step back and realize that it's not even my job to complete it. There is much less out of our hands than in them.
I'm scared for the future, but that's normal. I'm scared for graduate school, for moving to New York City, for balancing being a religious Jew and a typical American girl at the same time. I don't know what to expect. But in two years, I will be a social worker. A real, live social worker, with the abilities, both intellectually and on paper, to counsel others. I will be the adult. Soon, I will be cooking dinners and building a home of my own. I will look around and for some reason, I think I'll still be just as scared as I am now. It's part of growing up, and contrary to what many believe, growing up isn't just something that happens when you're young.
This trip has been fabulous so far. I don't know how I could ever manage to put these last few months into words either. My growth, both physically and spiritually, has far surpassed any of my aspirations coming into this experience. I have learned so much about myself in relation to the world around me, to Judaism, to God, and to my individual growth. I have experienced people and places that surpass anything I could have ever envisioned. I have seen people dressed in so many different ways and speaking so many different languages. I have experienced the world through a special, unique lens that has allowed me to become saturated in the culture around me. At times I felt as if I were drowning but it was always a good drowning, one where I was still breathing. Being overwhelmed (especially on a spiritual level) became a common feeling. I learned to open my eyes a lot wider on this trip. There were days when I would wake up, look around me, and not believe where I was. Whether it was submersed in a sea of black hats on the 2 going home, driving a friend's sports car around the Kineret, walking into Magen David Adom all alone to donate blood, or sitting on a picnic blanket while bbqing at Gan Sacher for Independence Day with friends, I was always somewhere new. There were weeks that I would travel for hours upon hours across the country and back, experiencing desert, sea, lakes, mountains, city, and resorts, all within days.
I sit here on the staircase at school and look around me. I see faces walking by my that I have known for a very short period of time. Yet somehow, they have become my best friends. We have built something together. We have built ourselves, our community, our world. We have gone through the good and the bad, the educational and the not-so-educational, the bar nights and the movie nights. Together, we have questioned ourselves and the world around us. Our conversations have become the thread that has woven itself through the past few months and leaves me here today. I am filled with the words of many languages, spoken from many people, that I will take with my for the rest of my life.
I have realized that I am capable of many things. I am in control of my life for the first time ever. Financially, I have come into myself. I have learned to budget my money, my time, and my education. I have begun to understand the consequences of actions, and have really seen the importance of analyzing causes and effects prior to making big decisions. I have learned balance. Emotionally, I have discovered outlets of support, ranging from teachers, to close friends, to my journal. I have learned how to be independent and how to have alone time. I couldn't do that before. I would cry from the fear of being alone. But I have realized that being alone is beautiful. I experienced this for the first time on an independent, spontaneous trip to Pisa, Italy. I traveled there, explored, and learned. I took pictures, soaked in the Italian sun, and became one with the world around me. I felt content that day while sitting on the bright green grass underneath the leaning tower.
So this winding road must continue. And on it, you will find me, moving along. Whether it be through an airplane, a car, a train, a bus, or simply by moving my feet, I will somehow reach the next destination on my journey. My life has become a puzzle that I have realized is not worth solving. I don't know how to solve it. Even if all the pieces are sitting right before me on the table, I will not be able to solve it correctly. And every time I think I can complete it, I need to take a step back and realize that it's not even my job to complete it. There is much less out of our hands than in them.
I'm scared for the future, but that's normal. I'm scared for graduate school, for moving to New York City, for balancing being a religious Jew and a typical American girl at the same time. I don't know what to expect. But in two years, I will be a social worker. A real, live social worker, with the abilities, both intellectually and on paper, to counsel others. I will be the adult. Soon, I will be cooking dinners and building a home of my own. I will look around and for some reason, I think I'll still be just as scared as I am now. It's part of growing up, and contrary to what many believe, growing up isn't just something that happens when you're young.
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