I am a pissed off peaceful person, I don’t think that I can have a more honest reaction or approach to the nature of being human and particularly being Jewish in this day. I have a pure soul, I was a baby, and am still in many way, naive and confused about what exactly this experience, that everyone seemed to have so comfortable eased them selves into, called life, I found so utterly alien.
I still look at my hand, move my fingers and really wonder, what the hell, how can I do that? And what a weird trip to be in the world, to be alive, my underlying voice, is one of wonder, acceptance and confusion. I am always willing to say I’m wrong, to listen, to hear. I realise that I alone can never have all the answers, that truth, whatever that is, is something that is a collective reality. ‘An accurate description of what is.’ I feel in someway passive to this experience, it’s almost as if I’m just along for the ride, looking as a child, in a perpetual state of not knowing. Whatever it is I do know is just a small piece of the whole, and probably corrupted and misinterpreted by my own personal perception and crippling life experiences, that must undeniably filter and colour my view of what is.
Where have I been? in my search for my self, in search of some sense, trying to make sense, of this world, make sense of my life and experience of what is.
From early on I was attracted to ideas that tried to make sense of the whole thing, being Jewish, I liked to explore Judaism’s more mystical teachings, and my pure an holy soul, with honest and truthful yearning, lusted after a life that made sense, a life full of meaning, a life that had answers.
And for a moment or two I did find peace, or something similar to peace, being so preoccupied with doing what God wants, that I didn’t have a moment to think about anything, that I momentarily lost, that special twinkle in my eye, that wonder why. I lost myself in the undercover of God’s world, killing myself to be, this pure and pious Jew, to rebecome, a myth of a soul transcendent, embodied.
I dissolved myself in the rich velvet, of smothering, intoxicating Jewish mysticism. Unable to breathe, for dusty books, of messianic longing, entangled in my souls desire for a global utopia, to become the servant of Moshiach Consciousness. To mend this broken world, shattered shards of God’s divine light, redeemed and whole.
But as I learnt and internalised as best I could, the teaching of the Messiah Himself, The New Torah, my body and mind lifted themselves up from where they thought they had been. From this new place I could see much further, had begun to taste the future. He had glimpsed me a taste of truly forbidden fruits, of ideas so tempting, so utterly dangerous that the very fabric of everything I even thought I may have known, seemed to unravel itself at the seams.
He taught me things that I dared not utter, things and signs that blinded me, with its dark light. A whirlpool of maddening darkness, so utterly dark that it shimmered and shone.
Madness, everyone thinks I must be mad, to call the Rebbe a heretic, because the Rebbe is a righteous man, a Ztadik, and I just a mad, sad and stupid idiot – who, by my own admission, doesn’t know anything.
So my Rebbe is a smiling, Cheshire cat, Buddha-like Jewish heretic, he is my Rebbe, not anyone else’s, but mine. They say the Rebbe is a mirror and you see who you really are, call the Rebbe whatever you want, he is you.
But nonetheless, he showed me things that I, on my own could have never seen or even imagined.
It has been a long journey, so far close to fifteen years of trying to make sense of what the Rebbe said, what he meant, and how and who I am supposed to be and do with it.
I’m not intolerant, just slightly impatient, some things are so clear to me that I get frustrated when otherwise intelligent people show an absolute stupidity towards things.
Obviously every lunatic fanatic thinks that they are right, they are correct, that what they believe is so simple and so utterly obvious, and I’m probably no different.
They say that the Torah of Moses is Hevel (Breath/Nothing/Vanity) compared to the Torah of Moshiach. This I know from personal experience is true.
So much more to say, some other time…
This post was written by Urban Guru on September 12, 2008