{"id":1120,"date":"2011-08-10T12:14:16","date_gmt":"2011-08-10T18:14:16","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lucidtmedia.com\/journal\/?p=1120"},"modified":"2011-08-10T12:14:16","modified_gmt":"2011-08-10T18:14:16","slug":"love","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lucidtmedia.com\/journal\/love\/","title":{"rendered":"Part 1:  Love"},"content":{"rendered":"<div>\n<h1 id=\"internal-source-marker_0.9385306551121175\" dir=\"ltr\"><span class=\"Apple-style-span\" style=\"font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal;\">Chapter 1\u00a0<\/span><\/h1>\n<h6 dir=\"ltr\">&#8220;I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being.&#8221; ~Hafiz<\/h6>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m hungry,\u201d \u00a0Was his first thought. \u00a0The grass tickled his neck, pestering him out of sleep each time he tried dozing off. \u00a0He lay with his back to the earth, facing the wide expanse of southern California sky, which had just started to dim into the pink and purple hues marred by grey smog, that beckoned of the coming of night.<\/p>\n<p>It was still hot, but a stirring of breeze that marked the beginning the yearly return of the San Andreas winds made it very comfortable to be outside in the backyard. \u00a0Images of his afternoon came rushing back: \u00a0His forehead still pulsed from a triangular tearing of rooftop shingle that struck during the \u201cninja star\u201d fight between camps of the house-tribe and the garage-tribe.<\/p>\n<p>The broad green leathery leaves of the magnolia tree popped next in his head. \u00a0His favorite part about having a tree-house was staring at the glare the Sun made on those leathery leaves, and now it was nearly the end of Summer, the largest flower buds he\u2019d ever seen were emerging alongside, like the stem of a sword growing from its helm.<\/p>\n<p>Oren\u2019s heart melted. \u00a0He loved being in his tree house most of all. \u00a0He wondered if the little green bugs with luminescent wings were going to be up near the tree house soon since it was almost evening. \u00a0But now he was resting in the grass, with a swollen forehead, and he was hungry. \u00a0Where had all his friends gone to play next?<\/p>\n<p>A giggle bubbled up as another image popped in his head: \u00a0Dod Rehavia was in town visiting from Greece, they were kicking a soccer ball around this morning and Rehavia suddenly stopped, his bare foot covered in dog poop. \u00a0The game was over, and he had to keep himself from laughing as his uncle hobbled on one foot and one heel to go wash himself off in the hose.<\/p>\n<p>Hungry.<\/p>\n<p>What about Safta Sara? \u00a0Food easy for a 6-year-old to assemble wasn\u2019t always accessible in the house where Oren lived, but he knew that his kind elderly neighbor would always have a snack for him. \u00a0She must have had an endless supply of bananas, vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup and rainbow sprinkles, because whenever he showed up it was suddenly time for a banana split.<\/p>\n<p>The boy sat up in the grass, slightly disoriented. \u00a0Sara\u2019s house was just a short walk away, out the front door, across the lawn to the house immediately to the left of his. \u00a0He opened the screen and knocked on the door. \u00a0He usually didn\u2019t have to ring the door bell. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0As promised, the door opened and there stood Safta Sara. \u00a0She was like an adopted grandma. \u00a0\u201cOh, Hi!\u201d She said, \u201cCome in!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Sara wasn\u2019t much taller than the 6-year-old boy standing expectantly at her doorstep. \u00a0Her wrinkled face was weather-burned and olive-colored, but she was upright, spritely and always kind. \u00a0\u201cAre you hungry? \u00a0Do you want a banana split?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Oren nodded silently, his eyes wide, voice daring not to say anything. \u00a0\u201cOk,\u201d she said casually and moved towards the kitchen from the living room, \u201cHow\u2019s school? What grade are you in now?\u201d \u00a0\u201cI finished first grade!\u201d Oren said, \u201cBut it\u2019s still Summer vacation. \u00a0Abba has us do second grade workbooks to get ready before school starts.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The prize was suddenly sitting before him, in an ovular bowl. \u00a0The first, cool, creamy bite delighted his synapses and slid quickly down his throat. \u00a0Relief. \u00a0Something sweet and yummy in the tummy.<\/p>\n<p>As Oren continued to eat, Sara enjoyed conversation. \u00a0\u201cIs there anyone at school that you really like? \u00a0A girl, perhaps?\u201d \u00a0Oren shook his head. \u00a0\u201cI don\u2019t know what that means.\u201d \u00a0\u201cOh,\u201d Safta Sara said kindly, \u201cYou don\u2019t know what liking somebody means? \u00a0Well, is there anyone at school who when you see them you feel a little differently inside, like it feels good to look at them?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Oren was suddenly there. \u00a0At school, on the large cement play yard, benches marking the square perimeters of a host of evenly spaced trees, which dwarfed the buildings of Erwin Street Elementary school. \u00a0Then she appeared: \u00a0blonde pony tail, quiet and walking slowly in triangular formation with two other girls who were like silhouettes to her brilliance. \u00a0He knew from class that her name was India. \u00a0What a cool name! \u00a0Soon after, to his delight he discovered that India lived on the other side of the railroad tracks from him. \u00a0Every time he played there, he would climb the hill to her fence and wait. \u00a0He could actually see her sometimes playing in her forest-like backyard. \u00a0But all he knew about her was that she was quiet, that she loved horses and that she lived nearby. \u00a0They never talked, probably not even once.<\/p>\n<p>Oren\u2019s heart sank, Sara\u2019s kind face was still looking at him and noticed him shaking his head. \u00a0\u201cNo, you never felt that way?\u201d \u00a0The 6-year-old boy shook his head again, his heart beating fast. \u00a0Like the moment when Sara asked if would like some ice cream, he dared not speak for fear of giving away the pitiful truth.<\/p>\n<p>Sara studied his face lovingly. \u00a0\u201cDo you have any friends at school yet?\u201d \u00a0Oren shook his head again, a huge knot started to build in the child\u2019s belly, and then he finally blurted out: \u201cWe\u2019re different! Everything about us is different! \u00a0Our language is different! \u00a0Our holidays are different! \u00a0Why do we have to be different?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Sara took a deep breath. \u00a0\u201cI saw you playing with some boys earlier.\u201d \u00a0The boy shook his head, \u201cThey only like to play war.\u201d \u00a0The mark on his forehead suddenly started pulsing again, branded by the flying projectile sent from the enemy camp on the garage roof.<\/p>\n<p>There was long pause. \u00a0The banana split was nearly gone, and the boy suddenly felt like maybe he had done something wrong.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe are different.\u201d Sara said matter of factly, finally breaking the silence. \u00a0\u201cI don\u2019t want to be different!\u201d \u00a0\u201cWe are different,\u201d Sara continued, \u201cEven our calendar is different. \u00a0Do you know what day it is today?\u201d \u00a0\u201cIt is Friday,\u201d said the boy, sounding like more of a question than an answer. \u201cYes, and tonight starts Shabbat. \u00a0Will you have Shabbat dinner at home?\u201d \u00a0The boy nodded.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe are different. \u00a0A new day starts at night, not in the morning like for most people. \u00a0We do have different holidays that your friends don\u2019t understand. \u00a0Do you know why?\u201d \u00a0The boy shook his head again.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cLet me tell you a story. \u00a0Come back and have banana splits whenever you want, we\u2019ll talk and I\u2019ll tell you stories, okay?\u201d \u00a0The boy was too transfixed in his feelings to understand. \u00a0He was falling. \u00a0What was this feeling? \u00a0\u201cRelief,\u201d came a silent answer, although he had no idea from where or what it really meant.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSo, why does a new day start at night for us, Safta Sara? \u00a0Does it mean we\u2019re from the devil?\u201d \u00a0The boy\u2019s heart was completely open, completely trusting, unafraid to speak what he was really feeling anymore.<\/p>\n<p>The kind old lady\u2019s eyes narrowed, holding his heart with all her might. \u00a0\u201cWhen everything is dark and all seems lost, it is only the start of something new. \u00a0It is too easy to call the morning Sun new &#8211; God is doing all the work! \u00a0When everything seems darkest, you find the light inside of you and only then can a new day begin.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Another long pause. \u00a0It seemed a timeless eternity. \u00a0\u201cAre you ready?\u201d Came Safta Sara\u2019s voice, which seemed more faint and from a distance. \u00a0The boy managed to stammer a nod.<\/p>\n<p>Chapter 2<\/p>\n<h6 dir=\"ltr\">&#8220;Find the love you seek, by first finding the love within yourself. Learn to rest in that place, your true home within.&#8221; ~Sri Sri Ravi Shankar<\/h6>\n<p>IN THE BEGINNING<\/p>\n<p>In the beginning, the heavens and the earth were void and without form. \u00a0Yet they contained power, a power that was never born and can never be destroyed. \u00a0This power is known as water, because it fits any shape, any time, any space, any dimension, any plane, and any circumstance.<\/p>\n<p>This power is known as \u201cthe deep.\u201d \u00a0In this great nothingness there was no such thing as up or down, small or large, before or after, but yet all of creation was contained in it, even your body and everything you have ever known or will ever know. \u00a0All of creation already existed, but in a formless void.<\/p>\n<p>When you stand and face the North, you are facing the direction in the cosmos from whence you came. \u00a0Turn your body North and you face the deep &#8211; that which is both nothingness and omnipresence. \u00a0Just like rolling a ball down a hill, all things seek their lowest point. \u00a0The oceans fill with waters and become deep, only because they are lowest places on the Earth. \u00a0This is called gravity or magnetism. \u00a0The deep is magnetically attractive and all things seek it, that is why a compass always points its needle to the North.<\/p>\n<p>If you ever find yourself in a time when all seems lost, never call it death. \u00a0The beginning teaches us that death, nor hopelessness have any right to exist. \u00a0There is no such thing as death, for even if the the very earth itself should implode, if you truly understand what was present in the beginning, there will always be hope &#8211; a chance for something new to be born. \u00a0This is why a new day starts not during the rising of the Sun, but only in darkness on the face of the deep.<\/p>\n<p>In the beginning, there was consciousness. \u00a0Consciousness was resting perfectly comfortably but suddenly was first to wake up and wonder where it was. \u00a0It could not find anything. \u00a0It could not find the front of anything because nothing had a behind. \u00a0It could not find the short of anything because nothing was long. \u00a0It could not find the end of anything because nothing had yet a beginning.<\/p>\n<p>After not being able to find anything, Consciousness realized he was alone and said, \u201cI am the Alpha, the letter \u2018A\u2019 in the alphabet, because I am in the beginning.\u201d \u00a0Now, for the first time, Consciousness had something to play with, the letter \u201cA.\u201d \u00a0\u00a0Consciousness began to move on the face of the deep, singing \u201cAhhhhhh, I am He, Aleph, letter \u2018A.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>If you are ever lonely or marching forth single-handedly into something new, you can share in this song because you are walking in the footsteps of the One who created you. \u00a0It doesn\u2019t matter if you are a boy or a girl, part of your inheritance from the creator was the right to always walk in his footsteps.<\/p>\n<p>Then Consciousness suddenly stopped in the middle of his Song, and he said, \u201cI have something to play with and a song to sing, because I have created something. \u00a0I am a creator!!! \u00a0I am a father!!! \u00a0I will call myself \u2018AvRahm\u2019 because I am now a Father! \u00a0My first child is the sound of \u201cA.\u201d \u00a0That is why this sound is always the first sound of every alphabet in the world.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Chapter 1\u00a0 &#8220;I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being.&#8221; ~Hafiz \u201cI\u2019m hungry,\u201d \u00a0Was his first thought. \u00a0The grass tickled his neck, pestering him out of sleep each time he tried dozing off. \u00a0He lay with his back to the earth, facing the &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/lucidtmedia.com\/journal\/love\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Part 1:  Love<\/span> <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[27],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1120","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-honoring-the-divine-within"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lucidtmedia.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1120","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lucidtmedia.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lucidtmedia.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lucidtmedia.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lucidtmedia.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1120"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lucidtmedia.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1120\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1121,"href":"https:\/\/lucidtmedia.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1120\/revisions\/1121"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lucidtmedia.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1120"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lucidtmedia.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1120"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lucidtmedia.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1120"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}