Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Pesach condensed - but capturing it all.

I am finally at a computer.

Pesach was so charged with every emotion, so many stories, crazy high energy. I could right all about the music, the dancing. I could write about Benni, the most inspiring person I've met in a while. I could write about crazy late night bonding sessions. I could write about the Moshiach Seuda. I could write about the 6 hour hike to and from Amuka. I could write about powerful Matza experiences. I could write about the highs of being on Shlichus.

I could write without ever stopping. I could write about all of it with enthusiasm, remembering every detail. I could laugh and cry all over again, as I search for the right words.

But none of it can truly be summed up or relayed through mere words. Its too vivid, too real, and in many ways - too personal. All my experiences from Pesach have touched the deepest part of me, and I'm confident they'll live on forever, constantly reshaping my present and future, serving to raise every moment.

I had no clue how I would attempt to write tonight. Yesterday, I looked so forward to being able to get to a computer the next day, tonight. But what to write? What experience to give over, to get out? I was clueless, for real.

And then I woke up this morning. My experience just waking up gave me exactly the experience I wanted to really give across, to help others get a feel of the jam packed past weeks.

(the following is a totally un-exaggerated report of my experience this morning)


I've been sick with a cold/cough, and my dreams when I'm sick are always very colorful. This one was no exception.

I was in a green field with all different types of people of all ages. Every "type" of Jew was there, and we were all socializing happily. Good energy. All of a sudden, the sky got our attention. It turned a deep blue. Next thing, the moon started racing towards the sun. It actually joined the sun, pouring beautiful colors into the field. It then passed through the sun, and continued in a circle, passing through the sun again and again. We were all marveling at the sight. Then, tons of laughing children came out of nowhere and were dancing in the field, as sprinkles - or something like it - started to rain down on everyone.

That's when the dream ended.

I woke up to a loud blaring sound. I sat up quickly, trying to see if I was actually hearing it, or was indeed just a sick delirious and tired girl. No, I wasn't crazy! There WAS a loud sound. It sounded like someone was blowing a loud shofar from the Metsuda (the highest point of Tzfas - a mountain top right outside my apartment)! I couldn't believe it! Moshiach is here! It's actually happening! I raced to open my shades to see the person blowing the shofar - but I couldn't see anything between the trees. But still, I could hear it! I was overjoyed, but so many thoughts came into my head. I am in my pajamas! I can't greet Moshiach like this! And where are my apartment mates?! I wanted to share this moment with them! Where do I go? What do I do?

I ran outside my room to find one of my apartment mates looking panic-stricken from the loud shofar sound. I couldn't understand why she looked scared. I was thinking, "Hello! Moshiach is here! Quick, get dressed! Lets go!"

This is when I found out that the huge minute long blast was for Holocaust Memorial Day - it was the minute of silence that grossly invades a minute of every year here in Israel.

Moshiach is still not here. But I am glad that during the sound, a sound that signifies death and silence and pain, there was one crazy girl, so high off her Pesach experience, racing to greet Moshiach.


I was not completely dissapointed when I found out Moshiach wasn't actually here, although I remember thinking, "Yea, how do YOU know it wasn't a shofar?" But still, I dunno, I really hope not to be wearing my pajamas when Moshiach arrives.

But, I realized the real reason I wasn't disappointed is because, for me lately, every single day has had elements of Moshiach. This morning showed me just how much I've been really living redemption. Every moment had been packed with such a barrier-breaking, freedom-ringing, redemption-bouncing sort of focus. I feel it so deeply - there's no going back, only forward...and I can't wait. I've definitely strengthened my yearning for the real and final redemption, that's for sure. But until it comes (may it be now!), I've been blessed to bring parts of it into my everyday, to reveal it in every encounter, every person.

I miss Pesach. But clearly, it is with me for good - so I am happy.

Even if it took an abrupt arousal from bed and a semi-delirious experience to prove it.


Anonymous said...

oh mim. i bet you've never got out of bed that fast in your life! now we know how to do it...
that was the most precious, yet heartbreaking story. but really you had a moment of truth- what would you really feel if you thought moshiach were here. its an opportunity to really introspect. its great.
Love you,Rach Nut

Nemo said...

Me and you are one and the same, though I knew what the siren was for.

Last year I was sleeping in a Jerusalem apartment when it went off. I ran out to the balcony and stood their in my boxers and tzitzis, paying my respects to the six million.

It's the most outstanding site to witness the entire Jerusalem come to a standstill. Pedestrians and traffic stop, blocking intersections, but it matters little when no one is traveling. All stand, heads drooped, silent or whispering a silent prayer for the fallen.

And, as quickly as the silence began, life goes back to normal. Horns honk and tires sqeak as Jerusalem returns to her business.

Anonymous said...

May the sad siren turn to the final siren we have all been waiting for. OMEIN!!!!!!!!!


chang said...

may Hashem bless you that when you are older and married with kids and regular life takes over...you can still hold on to the incredible clarity and mystical energy you are living and breathing in tfas ir hakodesh.
missing you.

wandering said...

heart stopping.
thanks for bringing us along on your journey.

Anonymous said...

Oh Mima I hope and pray that we can all be together on that final day of redemption and dance to the coming of Moshiach with happiness and bliss. and may the green field and the sun and the moon you saw in you dream beam upon us as we rejoice in it's warmth.

Love you.

the sabra said...

you were not completely dissapointed when you found out moshiach wasnt here?

Anonymous said...

hey mim- uplifting to check up on you! and continue my israel exprience vicariously (for the time being)luv dina

FrumGirl said...

I think your dream and how you fully believed it was Moshiach really reflects what madrega you have reached. It is not a bad kind of envy that I am feeling towards you, you are truly, truly inspiring me. Please continue blogging. And maybe share some of the things you have learned... I am starving for this.