The Novelty is Not Wearing Off

 

When we have strong feelings . . .  most of us want to  share them.

A therapist learns that when someone has pressured speech it isn't the words to listen to, rather the force of the words, the energy behind them--that's how we know what is driven by emotion. Words, our speech, tell a therapist less than the physical cues, context.  This is why we sometimes don't even hear what you are saying, we're so astounded by the feelings, either absorbing deflecting, repelling or protecting ourselves from all that delicious or too often toxic, emotion. All we need to hear are a few words and we get it. 

But let's talk about me and how I can't help but keep sharing this experience. 

We ate lunch at the home of my first new friend. How did I meet her? I attended a Friday night Shabbat service at a new synagogue, new for me, the first one at services. I'm walking to a balcony seat (yes, women are up in a balcony and no, I wouldn't have it any other way) when two other women, they are about my age, enter the space and smile and welcome me, ask am I new.

Well, yes. I'm new. I'm old, but new here. Not exactly old but you know what I mean. 

I am, in a word, still star struck being in Israel, living in Israel as opposed to visiting, and it shows. When FD and I vacationed, with the exception of 2 trips -Hawaii and Panama- we vacationed in Israel. Sure, it was ostensibly to visit nieces and nephews, friends. But mostly to be in Israel. To us this is where we should be, it is home. 

I used to say that leaving felt like going from living color to black and white, that's how dark it felt, leaving Eretz Yisrael. 

Anyway, all that to say that a month since the move here my new friend tells me that she will never forget that glow, how I couldn't get over it, living here, how wonderful it had been for her to see that appreciation for what Israelis once took for granted, no more. She said it in so many words. 

It isn't as if the news isn't disturbing and sad, and it isn't easy to see, at a dinner, a place at the table set for a hostage. We pray for their speedy return. But I am out of bed sometimes at 4:45 AM, early even for me, and it is dark outside and quiet, and by 5:40 the No. 2 bus passes my building as I watch the sun come up from our balcony, and the garbage guys are taking out the cans for pickup, and slowly traffic begins. There is a tiny sliver of moon. 

And that feeling isn't gone, but it is tainted with one that has been bothering me for some time, regret, regret for waiting so long. 

And I have to say that mantra:  

Don't look back, it will make you depressed.

Don't look forward, it will make you anxious.

Stay in the present. 

At the moment, that's pretty great. 

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