Friday, June 16, 2017

Letter to Regina Spektor


When I read that Regina Spektor will be performing in Israel on August 19th, I became sad for a while, because I will be in America at that time (if I were here I'd be the #1 person to buy a ticket...)... And then I decided that perhaps I should write her a letter, to try to avert the feelings of missing out to a message of gratitude and appreciation. If anyone knows her address, please let me know.

Regina Spektor, 
Ever since the first note of yours descended onto my pitifully soft and sentimental heart with "Samson" when I was 16, I have fallen in love with your ethereal voice and all of your unique words, music and videos, sometimes surreal, playing along the lines of my own surreal and kaleidoscopic path of life. All the way from "Someday" and "Us," through "Blue Lips," up to "Black and White," just to name a few, including a short youtube excerpt of you singing Hanna Szenec' "Halikha LeKesaria," your music and art videos have been a part of my growing up. I am now 27, and your music still accompanies me through sorrow, contemplation, pain and love.  
When I was the nanny of a baby I'd sing him to sleep with Halikha Lekesaria, trying to imitate your delicate trills while trying to have the song be a steady landmark of Being-Here-ness, in the ever-changing, ever-continuous span of time and space; and when I hit confusing forks in the road (or open nomadic fields) and wanted to remember old times, I'd listen to "Samson" and let its beauty make me cry and rejoice -- although I listen to it less today than I used to, because it now makes me remember young love, which passed and gave way to a much harsher and unclear adulthood; and when I'd want to hear something fun I'd listen to "Fidelity"; or to give place to the quirkiness and arbitrarity of life, "Dance Anthem of the 80's." I'm an artist, too. An artist whose art is articulated more in the written word than in any other form, but with oceans of imaginations and creations still inside my head, which have not yet found a way through me to be formed in the real world. 
I read that you studied in Fair Lawn, New Jersey, which is where I lived until age five, when my family moved to Israel. I've lived in Israel since then, and just recently decided to travel to America for a while. And once I was already there -- 10,000 kilometers away from home -- I found out that you'd be coming to Israel in August, merely four months after I'd left! I couldn't believe it! I've been waiting for you to come to Israel for so long, and now you're making it there, but I'm not. I'm pretty bummed out about that ("mevo'eset" in Hebrew), and I keep imagining how lovely it would be to be there and see you on stage, and hear you sing your wonderful songs with your wonderful voice, in my own home country. Sometimes that in itself makes me wonder why I left for America. Because if we don't live for those escalated moments of spirituality and joy, then really there is nothing else. 
But since I won't be there, I cannot forever lament it, and must see it as not such a big deal, but... but... I really appreciate you and will miss being in Israel when you are. You are talented in so many ways. I do hope you'll come back to Israel again.
I hope that you have a full, cheering, loving audience in Tel Aviv, and that you'll enjoy your time in this special land. Don't forget to spend time in Jerusalem -- in my opinion one of the greatest (and most diverse) cities in the world. 
With thanks and appreciation toward a person who makes the world better by lighting it up with her talents, 
Miriam


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