Israel, Passion and Reason

Hello from Israel.
Oh how it thrills me to write these words.

I am currently experiencing Israel with 40 other 18 to 26 year old Jews from the US as part of a birthright trip. I have a whirlwind of an itinerary ahead of me. After spending so many months traveling on my own, at my own whims, having a group to be with is quite a change. Although I do not firmly identify myself as Jewish (I prefer the term “Jewishish”) there is something that binds all of us together, and a bit of magic in this crisp, perfect Jerusalem air.

Anyone who knows me is probably aware of the duality of my person. I am a woman of passion and reason - two characteristics which are not always so complimentary. I am an artist, and an analytical thinker. My life and decisions are affected by these qualities. My desires often conflict with other desires I have. I want to be an art model, a musician, a teacher or something else I haven't even envisioned. I love being a traveler with endless possibilities, yet sometimes I year to be rooted with a home and clear journey.

During a shabbat service in Israel, I encountered the following poem. Yes, the poem is religious in nature, but the meaning I found here is not a message about god, but about the choices life offers us. There are conflicting sides to decisions and the manner in which one carries their life, a fact I am too familiar with. I found myself moved by this poem, maybe because looking out the window I saw the lush green of Israel, or felt the connection of singing with a room full of people, or was trapped inside my head with a wave of my own issues, but I felt something and wanted to remember these words.

Either you will
go through this door
or you will not go through.

If you go through
there is always the risk
of remembering your name.

Things look at you doubly
and you must look back
and let them happen.

If you do not go through
it is possible
to live worthily
to maintain your attitudes
to hold your position
to die bravely

but much will blind you,
much will evade you,
at what cost who knows?

The door itself
makes not promises
It is only a door.



Photo by the lovely Leo Ticheli of Birmingham, Alabama.