Everyday for me is an uplifting Romance with Zionism and dreams, the blood that keeps me moving. I am blessed to have my first salary job, which will aid me in paying off an accruing college debt from three years ago, plant seeds in my move to Israel, and overall, make me more of an accountable, leader-like person.
If I can dream of commanding an armored crew on the Golan plateau, I can will the challenges here physically, financially, even spiritually. I am learning to budget my time between a full-time restaurant management position, and immersing myself in the over-the-river Jewish community of Minneapolis-St. Paul.
Life is on the move right now, and like ascension, I can only enjoy the acceleration up this winding and chaotic hill. But something is missing. There needs to be something more.
Often times I visit this problem, and I ask myself if this hole is a result of my abandoning my previous evangelical faith and adapting the heart of a mensch-making Jew. It is not, because I am just as naïve now as I was then; only more experienced.
I ask myself if it is the absence of a woman in my life, and this seems to be the most prevalent suspicion; a more likely cause. I imagine myself having that best friend, and although I am in need of my besheryt, my soul-mate, I realize this, too, is not.
I ask myself if this is because I am away from Jerusalem, the Holy City, a central-focus of Jews everywhere: misplaced, new, even presently living there. And although the Academy my eyes are set on for future education is located in Jerusalem, Bezalel, I truly want to live in Tel-Aviv. And even in Tel-Aviv, I cannot imagine this crevice cemented.
I cannot examine this hole in my heart no more than I can examine the absence of a person, a place nor a calling. This is more of a deep emotional absence and I know it can only be filled by the G-d I chose to embrace after several years of wandering, committing, and fall out. This G-d of mine, the G-d of Ruth and David and Abraham, is missing. And His covenant I am failing to understand. And His people I am not with, His plans, far misunderstood and abused, I am not accepting out of failure to see.
I am choosing my own path, hoping one day to look at my reflection some-decades on, sit on the foot of my bed to speak my nightly reminder (“G-d is One”), and see a man made in His image rather than a man discouraged. That this hole may be filled with self-forgiveness, forgiving others, and not worrying about things past nor coming, but focusing on committing to an oath bigger than myself in this present. This practice cannot begin now, or then, but continues, even by revenant mistakes we all make and of all of the times we fail ourselves and others.
Unless I quit focusing on myself, and the more I come to terms with what love and life are truly about, I will be just as empty tomorrow as I am now. This is not a depression I have to climb out of, but a bank on the sea, waters parted, a restless cavalry behind; we all must cross.