Why I do what I do not love: A response to self

As a student of the humanities trapped in the life of a business major, I find myself regularly frustrated by feelings of disaffection. It was during a particularly intense stretch of final examinations that my mind began burning in silent furry. I was physically and mentally exhausted but above all I laid on the brink of psychological defeat. I could no longer study. There, in the library, I would scribble down an impassioned sort of personal constitution. A justification of my choices and declaration of intent. After the half hour spent in composition of this piece, I found myself refreshed. Ready again the dive into tedium of indifference curves and balance sheets...

Because the universe is an organic whole

That I crave to know

Lest the Dionysian forget the Apollonian’s truth

Life cannot be splintered; Knowledge is one

The discipline of disciplines is sublime

And I cannot take what is not mine

So while I may not see, I might still know

If I forge on through I can still hope to grow

I must conquer the depths, beholden to the heights

For my hopeful days, I accept muddled nights

I am you and you are me

But I can still look upon you condescendingly

That which I do love is dependent on you

As the predator to his prey, so must I keep you

So I do what I do not love

And I fasten my eyes to the sky above

That it might one day take hold

And I might be both wise and old

The difference in time

As seasons change so does our view of our surroundings. Winter brings on a lack of color and separates us from nature, we stay warm in our homes. Summer brings upon color and a closeness with nature, we bbq and camp. But it is all the same just a matter of perception.

AGLUTINAR

Como dói a angústia,

De sentir a incerteza,

De sentir o talvez,

De sentir que nem tudo depende da gente,

Como dói sentir e não poder sentir,

Se entregar com algum limite,

Gostar sem poder gostar mais,

Enxergar, mas o que se vê é apenas uma incerteza,

Como são estranhas essas coincidências,

Como são surpreendentes os nossos caminhos,

Como é difícil perceber que somos tão pequenos...

Enfim, como dói a angústia.

This is a rough translation from google translate. Don't take it too literally...

Clumping


How painful distress,
Feeling of uncertainty,
To feel perhaps,
Feeling that not everything depends on us,

It hurts not being able to feel and feel,
Indulge in some limit,
Like without power like most,
See, but what you see is only one uncertainty,

How are these strange coincidences,
How amazing are our ways,
As it is difficult to realize that we are so small ...

Anyway, as painful anguish.

Moirae

On occasion of the Jewish holiday of Purim I revisit the tale through the prism of the my own perspective and the message that reveals itself to me...

The platitudinous sun rises and birds chirp

The grumbling of gears deafen man’s usurp

The feet carry on while the lungs sigh

Lost in meaninglessness the days blur by

Culture refined to rhythmic irrelevance

A scattered range of utter happenstance

Misplaced consciousness in a world undue

One plus one equals blue

In fear of futility we frantically run in place

Destined for nowhere and nothing in our endless race

We look for progress as if toward some culminate state

Each step seems to bring doom closer as he lay in wait

Reduced to vacuous being in a vacant life

Effervescently the people grow in strife

Time continues and events unfold

Cataclysm stayed by cause untold

Little by little momentum reversed

Survival as it happens merits durst

Such winds all the while unbeknown

The play pushes on in relentless tone

Motions become intelligent as resolve mounts

The saboteurs’ scheme unravels as he miscounts

Tomorrow’s fate perhaps not as yesterday foreshowed

The sight of life’s promise flickers in the mind’s abode

Still silently the pieces fall into place

As if orchestrated by some amazing grace

Suddenly the great decree rings loud and true

With tipping point reached ונהפוך הוא 

Unified in vision and state good prevails

Celebration ensues to mark our travails

Charged with the spread of fun, love and care

Each year we revisit the relief born of despair

In retrospect reality and percept don’t equate

Life may seem vapid but is in truth great

Though in the present direction eludes

All things considered meaning exudes

It doesn't matter who you pray to, for, or against, we as humans should all feel pain from this.

Natural disasters are killing people, and ruining lives in Japan, and many other areas of the Far East, and that is horrific.  But what I find more horrific, disturbing, and tormenting, is the brutal slaughtering of a sleeping family in Israel.

This weekend, on Shabbat, a group of Palestinian terrorists carried out unspeakable, inhumane murders ... and just like after the horrific deaths of our friends, family, and fellow countrymen on 9/11 when the Palestinian people, along with most of the Arab world, rioted with happiness;  to this, they reacted with joy, public celebration, and handing out sweets throughout their cities.

I understand that certain cultures are raised with prejudice and I know I can't change that. But I ask you this, Imagine being twelve again. The insecurities and confusion that we have all known. You walk home from a friend's house, and finding yourself locked out, find someone to let you in, only to be confronted with the sight of your mother, beaten and stabbed to death lying in a pool of her own blood. Your father,  in bed as if asleep, protectively wrapped around your newborn baby sister, both with their throats slashed like animals in a butchery. Imagine that horror. Now, you're running frantically to find your siblings, only to see your eleven year old brother, book open in his lap, slashed over, and over, and over,  to the point of death. You turn around, only to realize that your three year old brother, with multiple stab wounds directly through the heart, is lying dead in a mass of his favorite toys, soaked in blood.

I have five siblings. I am Israeli. I have two parents. This could have been me. Those could have been my brothers and sisters.  This could have been anyone you know, and love.

No matter what beliefs you have, what writings you follow - I can only hope, you would too, be appalled. I beg you, share this story, because no matter your political stance, your opinions on international law, this should evoke some type of emotion from every person.

We all have had parents. Many of us have siblings, or have best friends with siblings, or have babysat infants and toddlers. There are three surviving children from this family, ages 2, 6, and 12. Try, just for a moment, to feel their pain, horror, suffering, and hopelessness, after this scene has been forever seared into their memories. Imagine the shock, and fear they are living in now.

I understand that the overwhelming mass of people on the other side of the Pacific are going through a hell that I can't even dream of - but that seismic event, leading to an unimaginably destructive tsunami, was not brought intentionally on one person by another.

Please, just imagine coming home, to find any one member of someone you consider family, dead and lying in a flowing pool of blood. I personally, would not want to go outside to see people who have,  my entire life, looked at me with baseless hatred in their eyes, dancing and singing in the streets BECAUSE of my loss.

I'm only human. I am only ONE human. But celebrating the brutal murder of a family. A baby, a toddler, a child just learning what it means to be independent.... cannot be seen as an effort for peace.

It doesn't matter how left wing, right wing, conservative, or liberal you are: this should bring tears to your eyes, and make you cry out for the suffering of these children, their family, and the future of an entire people, once hunted, like animals, to the point of near extinction, who are all mourning for the loss of innocent lives butchered at the hands of absolute evil.

Stutter Delight

For some effortless, others may stumble

As they stutter and slur, grumble and mumble.

The right of expression is not theirs to be had

A gift endowed upon every young lad.

Frustration swells in the belly of the throat

Shackled down, waiting to come afloat

Each word articulated - a triumph of will

The heart pounds...and then remains still

Afflicted by this cruel disease

Might there be an opportunity to seize?

If decreed to not speak, I shall listen

To every soul in need, my ear shall glisten!

Do not the wise savour their every word,

As if it were a graceful bird?

Silence is the key to true insight

Forever shall she be my guiding light.

OverComing Fear

The first jump of a paratrooper is symbolic in many ways. These days the use of it in a war is not to practical so it is clear to have symbolic meaning. The meaning that I think is very real is to be overcoming fear. In joining the army one must confront many things even more so when you go to war.  One must confront the thought of death, and pain for your country.  I see no greater test for Israels top I.D.F.  unit than jumping from a plain. In other words from a man that does not fear many things( heights may be one ) I have crazy respect for a person jumping from a plane with strings and a BIG bag on their back. I was lucky enough to attend my brothers first jump in 08' and just watching was nerve racking. Got some tight shots too, here are some.

 

 

 

Let The Imagination Run Wild

Sometimes I feel passive, restrained and subdued. The trouble is, in Melbourne religious growth is somewhat limited, or at least that is how I feel. My mind wanders and I flick through my personal pictures from my travels over the past few years...it is a short fix, it does not last, but I guess it is better than nothing.    

A World Of Fire And Ice

This dream is a moon-beam; this dream is made of flesh. Shall I live in this dream til my final breath? I am a broken vessel. I suffer an overflow of gratitude, of too much light, that I can hardly see. Has it really happened? Can prayer succeed? I expected to wander from dust to dust. I anticipated despair. Now the violin in my heart plays sweetly, and my innards choke, for the pleasant is strange to them. My world is transformed to a vision of many spirits, who float through fire and ice, who are made of fire and ice. Have I come to my vision of paradise?

Untitled

A bitter insomniac, devoid of all sleep

My life lays before my very feet

I reach for the rose upon the bedside table

My only desire, to be more stable

I pluck the petals one by one

Does she love me? I need someone!

To share my feelings, my inner world

To illuminate my soul, fill my void

In essence I have only myself to blame

For opening up and tempting pain

Can I expect her to love what i do not love myself?

The key to happiness - mental health

Tap into the eternal "I" inside

From him, no man can hide

Disconnection, discontentment

Every feeling of downright resentment

All stem from being a stranger

The illusion of separateness - the true danger

The Silent Forest

In a mood of solemnity, I wander through a vast and lonely forest. Guided only by intuition and conceptual analogy, I struggle to navigate through the mire. With these words I attempt to capture the journey and invite you to join me in it.

If a tree falls in the forest and there is no one to hear, does it make a sound?
Is sound a property in man or ground?
Primary, secondary; inherent, perceived
Events transpire by way they’re received
If an atrocity is committed and no one mourns, where is there tragedy?
One by one, round the circuit lives run raggedy

If a tree falls in the forest and there is no one to hear, does it make a sound?
Once a memory is lost can it ever be found?
Gross misfortunes immortalize the hordes
Lives untorortured posterity seldom records
If the divine spirit passed with sacrifice and sorcery, when is there god?
A bated hook drops within, projected from the mighty rod

If a tree falls in the forest and there is no one to hear, does it make a sound?
Can there be life without mind or yet with time consciouslessly unwound?
A pattern of motion or the child of thought
Truths mostly pass off as accordingly taught
If six million perish and none remain, who is there transgressed?
What can be said for oppression without the oppressed?

If a tree falls in the forest and there is no one to hear, does it make a sound?
Absent his subjects, can a king ever be crowned?
Suppose a family is destroyed leaving no remnants
Will the world take heart of its erstwhile eminence?
If I walk alone through an abandoned lot
I will be mindful that here a forest once stood. Did it not?

Warmer Times

In these cold times I cant help but think about those perfect days in the summer when all I want to do is  enjoy the weather and relax on a lake. When I think of those times this is what I see...

A Loud Rainy Night

In a loud rainy night, the mind is never at ease:
So much is happening beyond the deserted streets:
So many minds, so many thoughts, each bringing each closer to their death.
--Each bringing each closer to their death
"How much does one know?", is often asked. The better question: "How much is there to know?" Answer this and you are God; answer this and you kill the Almighty.

Am I Leaking?

At the end of a month filled with pure exhaustion, I found myself remembering things that used to make me feel better. Unfortunately, like many people have experienced, the most steady source of reassurance and comfort that I had walked away years ago. Painful as it was, in my state of obtundation, my mind took me back to a time when that wonderful fountain of streaming happiness would have been there  - to bundle me in safety. Upon realizing in the moment that those arms would never wrap around me protectively again; I began to weep. These words are the best I can do - to explain myself. 

weeping draining - leaking
Somehow the body knows to weep
when slashed, with blood;
lymph; cushions blistering burns.
The newborn, instictive, cries for nourishment.
So much nourishment. Again the body weeps -
weeps to soothe, to feed.

yet
Logic explains the loss
of blood for defects, of fluids for destruction
of tears for hunger.

How how can this
a symptom with no physicality
no marking, no measurable existance -
lead to weeping - weeping and only weeping

Like silk on satin
the warm salty ribbon slips
and pools, calmly soaking the pillow, clenched.
the burn of acid -
creeping outward, from the knots tangled
seems imaginary - with no source - how can it be?

the cramping of muscles
not from accumulation of toxin
just from. From nowhere.
The pain, it cannot be drawn. Photographed.
It cannot be measured, or concentrated. Broken down into particles.

But this tearing, gnawing, desperate pain -
is still here.
the body weeps. dripping tears, oozing loss of energy.
from a wound impossible to find.
Impossible to fix. No suturing will seal it.
No gauze can stem this surge of inexorable ache.

This - feeling -
can only be known by one, though
that had before only elation
scintillating joy and satiety.
The comfort of being cacooned
by love.

Like a glass figure
flawless - sparkling, flowing.
glistening, surreal, fragile

so easily shattered and crushed.
From anger
from carelessness
from angst
from apathy.

Filigree in pieces -
ground into sand
irreplaceable, and irreperable.

So the memories cling -
and knowing the absence of what was once,
completion ,
the body weeps for its loss.

Amazing

This poem was born out of a sense of great personal frustration and can be described as a polemic, in part against self and in part against society. I tried to lace this piece with different layers of meaning and invite the reader to realize them on his/her own. I will however note the use of mirthful acquiescence and  existential appreciation to conclude the piece.

Isn’t it amazing how

I just want to love; and just tend to hate

My blood I cherish; yours I struggle not to denigrate

Love and hate: interesting things

Multiplicity pulling at my heartstrings

Hate comes easy, but stays a weight

Love is a task, but will liberate

Mind over matter; matter over mind

Each its own to be regarded in kind

I’m perceived as a pest while I hope for the best

Your best, my best: are they not the same quest

We are all the one; the one is all

My blood for your blood; are we even now

To exhaust people is easy; to exhaust peoples is hard

With no end in sight we woefully keep guard

And isn’t it amazing how

We all look for guidance: right and wrong

The will to move; and the yet passionless throng

And its no wonder then that religion should emerge

Vision to confusion; knowledge to purge

Ode to the sheep: shepherdship abound

His flock should be directed; His flock should be found

So many issues; so many eyes

One truth lives; another dies

Isn’t is amazing how

Victims and victimizers; we are all the two

What then can be said for whom is who

Right and wrong; elude me still

Honest to goodness, clarity spells delusion mill

Guidance we seek and guidance delivered

Culture’s replaced belief and belief is mirrored

The time has come for beliefs to be meant

The sacred skeptic has given way to the contemptuous complacent

Cowardice is everywhere and dishonesty too

Right should be sought; not flirted with in cue

The sheep and the shepherd make up the flock

The flock beyond the sheep and the shepherd the clock

Convention meets existential detention

Vice and virtue: continued reinvention

And isn’t it amazing how

Individualism has been made mantric

While universalism is uniquely unpatriotic

The guise of aggression is ambition

And self-absorption – capitalistic rendition

Passion is uncouth

And sensitivity – self-inflicted ruth

Innocence is ignorance

And jading - experience

Isn’t it amazing how

Principles are fundamental and fundamentals extreme

We hold ourselves in too great esteem

Living is sleeping; sleeping to dream

Religion fleets where the proud meet

And people speak and people do

But seldom is there convergence of the two

One mind; one man; one world too

Disharmony; dissent through and through

We fear we are hollow so we stuff away

This stuff is unreal; this stuff won’t stay

Mother culture beguiles the endless race

A whole world spinning in place

Civilization contrived to make nothing something

Its unbridled conquest reveals nothing of something

And isn’t it amazing how

Unconscious drones make society’s daughters

What’s so wrong with stagnant waters

Calm and reflection to navigate direction

Perchance matter and mind’s intersection

No value of time, no sense of import

Just physical pander, transient exhort

Symptoms of The Persistence of Memory

Our attempted remedy – distractive ornery

And isn’t it amazing how

Systems, structures, and codes actual

As if nature were sensible and sense natural

Six million souls; six billion souls

Nobody wants to know; nobody knows

Rather die in Zion than live in the matrix

Let us come to grips, there is no quick fix

Day in day out, puppets employed

Existential contact we zealously avoid

No man is an island but we all build moats

Ships passing in the night; whatever emotes

Purpose now melts away

Who’s to say what’s to say

G-d begets man and man begets god

Truth be told, life is odd

But it’s amazing how