Monday, June 20, 2016

And so it is - revised (#3)




[I want to see if it is possible to live without writing all the time.]

I have decided to stop writing on my blog for now.

My blog has had ten years and one-hundred-and-forty-one days of active posting (which makes a total of about three-thousand-and-ninety-one days). 32572 pageviews and 1806 posts (including drafts). Openness and sincerity have both been my strange and awkward reasoning in life and on blog.
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But
I have not written enough poems!

And
Did I write about the community compost project I initiated and am starting in my hometown (and about the group of environmental activists I put together)? 
I haven't written much about the plans for our 2017 in a mini-van in America, because we plan on opening a travel blog and writing about it there.

Did I ever write about how I used to imagine my life as words in a book? (This idea was written on a paper 8 years ago, and I lost the paper and with it the strength of it all.) And about how I do want some of me to be turned into a book?  Did I mention that I love working with children? That I want to study teaching and be a teacher? Do you know that my old bedroom is like a colorful museum of my life? And I haven't yet written the song I'm writing for Tal. I haven't even gotten a sound-recorder yet! I also wanted to write about the vulnerability of Being, did I do that? I wanted to share the video "Earthlings" so that other people would watch it, too. I haven't made enough art to share here. I want to record the sound of everything. I don't know if I have written enough about life (and about death)... Have I written enough about the inconsolable scariness of it all and also of the blissful loveliness of it? Have I written about depression? Have I written enough about love? Was I ever, oh ever, serene when writing a post, or am I always agitated or frustrated -- ever since eversinceness? Did I ever write about what's unfair in the world -- and about what's fair? And about leaving family? And about leaving parents -- about the era of intentional separation? Have I written enough thank-yous? Why no, I have not. I surely have not. I still have 1,234 or 5,678 more people to thank. Perhaps 9-10-11-12 thousand.
Have I said anything of meaning? Anything of importance? Anything of inspiration?

After reading my blog, do people still eat animals and knowingly pay for atrocities like animal exploitation? Why?

Can people change? Become stronger?
Will we? Will you?
Can writing make something in me immortal? Can I pretend - or believe - not all of me will die when I die?

Are there bad people who will use the information on this blog against me?
Will I be sorry about my sincerity and naivety that came through in this personal blog? Is there any reason in the world to be sorry for such things?
Will someone use my fearfulness to scare me? 
My vulnerability to hurt me?
Will the world share with me the same innocence I tend to share with it?
Is it so that the fragility and compassion I hold toward the world will always be a mirror of how the world will treat me? Can it be so?

Can people be kind and soft-spoken while speaking to me? Can I ask the world- Oh, Goodness, Please? 

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Thank you #5,679: Thank you to all my readers.


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My travel blog from my USA travels in 2015:
http://miriamusa2015.blogspot.co.il/
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26/6/2016 Fear
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You know how sometimes the physical and mental space you live in automatically makes you cheery when you wake up inside of it in the morning, and sometimes it does not? That was an important realization for me; if I don't wake up in a fine state of sunniness, my surroundings are not in a good state of 'feng shui'. Whether it be the mess, the heat, the smallness of the home, the fear and anxiety I feel toward almost everything I do.  What am I scared of? I need to wake up, smile deeply, and tell myself: There is nothing to be afraid of. Nothing and no one should take me out of my Me-ness. I have suffiecient Me-ness and somebodyness to be strong throughout the entire day. I do not need to fear authority. I do not need to fear feeling small, for I am not small.
I fear the speed of time passing. I feel the rushing of it in physical waves. As I get older, it seems that time passes faster with such urgency; much more urgent that the positive energies I am able to conceive.
I feel that I spend too much time worrying and being afraid of death, instead of being able to climb above the sphere of this anxiety and be the cultivator of a much larger and happier faith.
I know that a perfect Love is not enough to hold me in a place of Carpe Diem and present serenity. Something more is needed to make me be Here, be Now.
Something more, beyond the mess and the fear and the time passing. Something I guess I have not yet found.
I try to fumble through the things I do, like searching for a small pain-killer inside a bag, pulling out old papers and unimportant things, trying to figure out "what are the things that truly make me happy?" I want to surround myself in those things, if only I knew what they were.
I'm afraid of speaking to adults, and yet speaking to other adults is a fundamental part of living and of working.
I wish I wasn't afraid. I wish I was fearless, omnipotent, invincible, able and willing, optimistic and positive in a world of sadness and stress, strong and courageous in my little shell of insecurity.
Writing this makes me feel stronger, in the small space I have to breath inside my home. Words have always been my anchor to something more stable. I'm writing and it's as if the meaning comes to life; the words are in real form, creating themselves in my heart like a vaccine, immunizing my blood system against further fear.
There is no reason for me to feel restrained. I'm a free, free, free human being.

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8-7-16

And then I started working in a place I love.
There's a guy there who's doing community service. When he complained about how he hates being there, I immediately exclaimed, "but it's great here!" And he said, "for you maybe... Look, we both come to the same place in the morning. You feel good and come with a smile, and I hate it here..."
And I said, "I completely understand you", because I do. It's just that.
It's so individual.
I guess that's it.
I've learned that everything is so individual. Morals and ideals and taste and happiness. And there's really no place for judging other people. There's nothing absolute, there's only how you Feel.


Sunday, June 12, 2016

Freeganism :)



Okay guys. I'm no longer a vegan. I'm a freegan :) 
It's what I believe in. I just found that there's a word for it!


http://trashwiki.org/en/Freeganism


Did you know that in the US around 30% of all consumed food is thrown in the trash? That's enough to feed millions of hungry people.




Friday, June 10, 2016

Hatred vs. Peace


This week there was a terrorist attack in the heart of Tel Aviv, four people were killed and many more were injured.


I don't know how to go about this.


It is too heavy, as is all of the politics here. I usually do not get into it. I both agree and disagree with everyone. Everyone has some truth at their sincere standpoint; it's legitimate to be afraid of radical Islam, it's also legitimate to stay away from any biases against any religions. But in the meantime Palestinian terrorists are killing Israelis (and in some places around the world Muslim people associated with IS and the like are killing people).


I am both right-wing and left-wing, depending on the specific issue at hand. In politics my only permanent and unchanging flag is human rights, and on every other issue it goes "כל מקרה לגופו". I don't belong to a specific political agenda in its entirety. I try to recognize what I think about every separate issue and not pull my opinion out of a molded agenda.


I am against violence and terrorism.

I am in favor of multicultural synthesis.
I believe that by knowing the other we will prevent hatred and fear and cultivate peace.

A video article came out this week stating that most of the school students in Jerusalem are now either ultra-orthodox or Arab - I think about 77% (the regular secular or religious children are now the minority! And the bilingual and multicultural schools are the minority of the minority!). They videoed students in both kinds of schools, saying horrible things about the others, out of complete ignorance. Most of them have never met a person from the other religion. And they live in the same city!!!


This post is written in gray because politics is gray in the sense of gloominess, and it's gray in the sense of not black-and-white. And also in the sense that I'm not sure I like talking about politics, so it's only half here.



Determinism


I wonder if my moral decisions are actually decisions.

I remember learning about determinism in mechina, through the imagery of a ball flying through the air. The landing point is known, by physical calculations, but to the ball- it is soaring freely through space.

I wonder what actually determines what brings moral people to moral decisions and immoral people to immoral decisions.

A moral decision seems to me more like a moral duty, which by not obeying I am actually fighting my conscience and I therefore actually have no decision to make but to do the moral option.

Veganism, for instance. Once I was exposed to the atrocities in the animal industries, I did not sit down with myself and debate whether veganism was the right thing to do. But rather, as soon as those truths were known to me, it was in fact the only decision my conscience would let me take.
Likewise with other things like helping a person in distress or a helpless being, when it does not contradict my own well-being.

I am not saying this to gain a pat on the back, "oh, you're so wonderful." No. I'm saying this because I want to get to the root and source of our decision-making, of our actions in a world where bad and good are separated. I am trying to understand what leads us to "good" or to "bad", to "moral" or to "immoral", and if it is something already determined the minute we are born, or perhaps in the way we are brought up. And then in that sense, I'd like to understand if a person truly can change his or her ways.

And I'd like to say that I cannot take credit for any morality, for any goodness I do. I really do not feel responsible for it, as it is the only path I can take. It requires no courage or bravery whatsoever.
It would be hard for me to choose otherwise.

To me it seems there is something in my conscience that doesn't allow me to do certain things, and urges me to do others. It's hard to say if that "conscience" developed over years, by my parents and other social frameworks, or is part of my genetic DNA.

I do have this strange sense that everything is determined ahead of time, from the smallest things like the breaths we take, all the way to social change and revolutions, just like that ball, whose path through space is scientifically absolute.

In any case, I of course won't be idle and I will still advocate social change, even though all the change that is and that will be is already determined.

And may good prevail :)




Friday, June 03, 2016

Yogurt

You know those times when you write too much on your blog and you feel too exposed but then don't feel right reverting to drafts, because then the implication would be that aesthetics and convenience are more important than authenticity?

Well here's some (vegan) frozen yogurt!





I am so in love with this human being.





Wednesday, June 01, 2016


Anxiety (or: Part 4)


I never knew how to explain or diagnose the anxiety or fear [ + radical emotionalism] I suffered. One of its peaks was during the army. I didn't even call it anxiety yet, I didn't know what to call it. I didn't know how to explain why I was so overwhelmed and sad and crying all the time like a lost child for almost two years (that's what I was; that's how I felt. So helpless! Walking around feeling afraid!), while other people had to do those occasional week-long guarding jobs and weekends on base instead of me because I just couldn't.

Only after I left I called it anxiety and wanted to write letters to my commanders explaining this, to soften the image I thought they must have had of me of someone weak or even spoiled who couldn't deal with anything and got to be exempted from annoying tasks. At least saying you have something specific sounds more serious. I didn't write the letters, and it became not important after a while.

I sometimes feel fearful and very anxious.
And once in a long while it escalates to a state of mental suffering and helplessness.
It happens when I'm unable to get to a "safe place" or when I have to face authority.

I think there is a combination of different anxieties in me.
And there is something a little bipolar about me, too.

Sometimes I get so sad, just sad, from all the anxiety and stress of being, that I cry and cry and cry and say awful things like that I don't know why I'm even alive.

And then I get to my safe zone, like home. And I do something familiar, like taking a shower, and it's as if these waters of safety and assurance just wash away the anxiety, and I come out feeling totally different, not even able to understand how I'd felt so horrible beforehand.

It's strange.

After the horrible anxiety, my mind inevitably calms down again. It gets to its worst point, and then declines. When the anxiety happens, I just have to learn to be patient and live it out, wait the long hours until it passes, until I calm down again. It always happens, it always ends. I'm always happy again eventually.

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Sometimes I just need to tell my dearest beloved life partner, "when this happens, just help me pass the hours until it goes away."