It seems as if they had been building a wall around my heart and sealed the bricks with cement so that not even a little puff of air can get through. It can’t expand, it can’t contract, it can’t even beat if not for the bare minimum to keep itself alive. I hurt. I pain. I remember. I see the past and I never get to see the future. I live the present, but this week I remember what I can’t no longer feel, what I can’t no longer identify as such. I feel corrupted and deteriorated. I feel we have all lost sense and meanings in what we do and why we do it and for whom and we forget too easily that LOVE it is felt when it is time and not when one wants it to be the time. But we are surrounded by cheap love, love this, love that, love me, not me, love it all, love it full, love it for love sake and go sell your soul if you chose not to love at all. What happened to working for love? What happened to chasing love? What happen to the heart-pain, the leg-shaking sensation and the butterflies in the stomach? Why can’t we keep believing in it as easily as we used to? How difficult is it to be naive and just romantic and go ahead as if your parents never split-up and shattered your child-like idea of perfection and perfect relationship?
What happened to the love fairy-tail you see in movies and the happy endings you are supposed to get after one of you is sick with cancer? This is not cheesy talk, this is not empty romanticism, this is a call for love’s purity to come back in style. This is a way to speak to the masses of you, you, you and you and I who have been in love before and have bathed in the holy waters of the love potion long enough to know that if you had to die today, your better off having felt it than just having pretended. Make believers are out of style and they are also sad more for themselves than for others. Love is all around us, of course, we have it from the smile of the old lady crossing the street with her stroller, to your kid playing in the park and the coming over to you with their muddy clothing to thank you for the wonderful day “at play.” We have it from our family *(in all shape and size and variations), we have it from the life-time friends and from the friends of friends.
There is not only one form of love, there are different shapes, degrees and even intensities, but of one thing I am positive about: The pure love one feels at 20 years old, the one that makes you fly like you are high on a poppy-seeds bagel is not the same as the one you find 10 years later, there is too much more drama behind it all when you are older. Why is that? Why can’t things be simpler in love the more one grow-up? I think it is the only discipline I have played that gets harder the longer you play it. Mystery. Or maybe too strong of a societal influence?…
Happy end of Pesach and beginning of East to you all!