He’s trying to reach me, if only I’ll pay attention.

I’m trying to live as if things are normal. But at the moment I feel a bit lost, disconnected. 

Sometimes waves of pain come through me, physically and emotionally. A toothache. Injured toe. Sore knee.

But it’s the emotional pain that takes me over and seems unbearable. 

Oh, the lonliness. The story I tell myself.

And then I do more of the recovery work, connect and share with others, and the pain subsides for now.

It doesn’t last as long and it’s not as deep. Because I’ve learned that emotions are to be felt, not ignored.

Progress not perfection. 

And then I see their faces.

Teenagers and children, moms and dads, even a baby! In captivity for three months now.

Let my people go! The Hagaddah has come to life.

I see “BRING THEM HOME NOW!” everywhere. On the windows of stores, bumper stickers, T-shirts. Each time my stomach turns as I feel powerless to help. 

Why am I not yelling and demanding. And to whom should my demands be directed?

Then I remember that the power isn’t really with the humans. We are all vessels for either good or evil. There’s a Higher Power running the world, acting through us, as us. 

So I cry to Him. Enough already. Set them free. Set us all free! 

I’ve completed the circle. Somehow G-d has placed me and my family back in this land. 

As a Jewess, where else am I to be? My people, my family, has been literally chased around the world. 

Now there’s nowhere else for us to go but back up. 

And that’s why it’s called Aliyah. And I’m an Oleh. 

It means increase or go up. Which is funny, because we actually gave up a lot to be here. 

Family, friends, physical luxuries that I took for granted.

Now I’m here in this tiny piece of land, a place of monumental spiritual signifcance. 

If only we can do it right. To live as we are meant to. 

I meditate on the yud-hey-vav-hey in my pocket-sized Zohar.

While sitting at a cafe with my son, I drew this name of Hashem as the sun made a magical design around the black letters. 

He’s trying to reach me, if only I’ll pay attention.

I look up at the sun coming through the trees. We move the table a bit so it’s not so direct. But it’s still there. Warming us in the cool January breeze, giving light and life. 

I get to be human here, for now. A soul within a body. I study the brain and have learned it acts as a filter of sorts. If it allows too much into our consciousness, we can’t exist down here. So we only get glimpses, messages, feelings. 

And we must trust, question, wonder, and demand.

We have to live in the mundane world but elevate it with our words and actions. 

Staying silent is never the answer. As I heard recently, “Silence is violence.”  

When my soul leaves my body, reunites fully with my Creator, and I awaken from this dream, it will all make sense.

Until then, I keep going, one moment, one word at a time. 

—

Today’s Tehillim:

Chapter 121

This psalm alludes to the Lower Paradise, from which one ascends to the Higher Paradise. It also speaks of how G-d watches over us.

A song of ascents. I lift my eyes to the mountains-from where will my help come?

My help will come from the Lord, Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot falter; your guardian does not slumber.

Indeed, the Guardian of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps.

The Lord is your guardian; the Lord is your protective shade at your right hand.

The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.

The Lord will guard you from all evil; He will guard your soul.

The Lord will guard your going and your coming from now and for all time.