slipping away

Back in the United States for five days, fresh from my decompression at camp ramah for the Hadar shavuot retreat.

What happens is this: In order to readjust psychologically (and also spiritually, in terms of "be here now") to changing circumstances, you must eventually let go of the mode of being you had in the earlier circumstances. Even if you want to try to hold on to the feeling, you can't, and the dharma says, you should try not to want to so much. At this point, I sense choices; within another few days, there will not be even them. Choices like how to relate to the roads, at home or feeling in exile; what foods to eat - do I focus on the Israel-ness of the date that I just ate, or should I not draw my attention, longingly, away? And many others. Spiritually, since this was a spiritual trip, the question is also one of attitude, irrespective of object. There is a desire to make the trip "matter", an almost physical revulsion against returning to the way I was before I went. Not that that was so bad, really! But it feels deracinated, pallid in comparison with the multicolor of Israel.

I accept fully the fact that my "Israel" experience is in large part self-created. But there is also something about the place, about the community, and about the fact that I don't need to segment or divide or ghettoize in order to be "fully Jewish." Fully Jewish, in fact, grows there. Here, it is like a delicate sapling to be preserved.

The one casualty of my trip: my beloved citrus tree suffered greatly. I should have put it outside where nature could water it. I'm not sure if it will make it.

Eventually, I will fully let go. In fact, writing this blog is a kind of act of recording, before that inevitability. It is a snapshot of liminality. Soon, it will be on to the next.

What I have learned, over retreat practice and these trips, is that all this ultimately boils down to a question of how much lifestyle change I want. Trying to hang on to the quiet, or the Israel-holiness, or even the emotional strength of camp -- yesterday was just beautiful, hours of sitting and sleeping and swimming at White Rock -- is all futile. The question is, do I want to change my life conditions such that holding-on is not necessary?

This would mean a move either to nature or to Israel, or both. In reflecting on Israel and why I don't live there, I am increasingly stumped. It feels, in a way, like an anti-life choice. I am finally hitting my stride here. A little success, sex, friendships, networks, a reputation, work, a whole lifestyle. Moving to the country would undermine that somewhat, but not as much as moving to Israel, I think. While I was over there I had no desire to speak to the spiritual needs of Americans. No desire, and who knows what ability. So that would have to do. My writing would inevitably become Israel-centered. I would become part of that project, but in so doing would lose connections to the work going on here.

American Jews should not kid themselves: this diaspora experiment is coming to an end. There will be a small circle of spiritual religionists, a coterie of clannish Jews, and a mass of non-affiliation. It's Israel or nothing, I really believe, at least for a Judaism that is more than bagels. Bagels will do fine here for a long while. And there will be the small groups. (I'm talking non-haredi here.) The system and tradition have too much good stuff in them; people will continue to be attracted. But on a more macro level, let's not play games.

I don't feel a fidelity to the Jewish people. I have a fidelity to God. It's about the Lover, for me, not Jews building a community or anything like that. I am glad that works for other people, but don't care any more about it, or about whether not caring marginalizes me. I'm so marginal already. Luckily God likes the margins.

The Jewish God and the Buddhist One are available everywhere. It shouldn't matter where on the globe you are. And yet, for the heart, it does matter, and the heart is one of the four wheels of the car. It doesn't feel as holy here, even though intellectually, of course it is, and even though my most opening experiences have been on this side of the Atlantic. So, because of that, and because I know that holding on will only cause suffering, soon I will let go of all the Israel-vibes, let them drop into the memory-jar like treasured souvenirs.

honey-roasted pecans
surprise meetings
foliage smell in the air
burger king
white push-in lightswitches
news-tones on the hour
the pleasure of a drive to beersheva
multiple falafel stands

slipping away already
into the noise of new york