Another two months went by and it is only now I write … I have my reasons. My blog was quite a companion during my early transition to Israel; it was a page to listen, a comfort and a constant. A year and a half on, and this comfort, at times, is far too demanding. It requires a great deal of mental energy, time, motivation and consideration, which is something I do not always have the capacity to provide. Recently, my lack of drive, stemming from a time of darkness, led to a deficiency in mental energy and, therefore, an absence of prose. Yet, I have now returned, full force, and am here to delight you with the tangled Noodles.
It has been a challenging time since December and, possibly, a period of ultimate uncertainty, with all accumulated troubles of the last year reaching a pinnacle. Since this time, I was relieved from a heavy strain, a single menace that darkened my vision, making all appear grey. I took my life into my hands and removed the burden. I exhaled as if I was a kite, with my cord being relieved from the weight of a rock. The clouds didn’t clear at once, and I am still, somewhat, waiting to fly. I am not sure when I truly will be happy; yet for once in a long time, I can reflect and write with a clear head and a grin on my face, however ambiguous all of this may appear.
I took some time off the last two months to revaluate and realign my life. It is funny how, during this time, I had a million and one shifting thoughts and all hours of the day free, yet no motivation to write. During this time, I simply yearned to return to England. I had had enough of Israel, or should I say my life as it was. I had enough of missing, a term in itself, and being frustrated with the obstacles of setting up this new life … A year and a half has gone by and I still seem to be working things out. Maybe it is a never ending process, or maybe I will never be fully satisfied with the situation I am in. My friends and I regularly discuss how we love the lifestyle of Israel; this was the one element of making Aliyah we were eager to exploit, following the renouncement of our Anglo homes. Even though we now have the sunny weekends, the long warm nights, the view of the sea and the feel of the sand, many of us cannot avoid the ultimate cravings for a ‘Career’, with a capital C. We, or at least, I still want a fulfilling day, a meaningful job title, and not forgetting, the totally dubious and mysterious concept of ‘annual pay reviews’, which is often uttered by us innocent olim.
After the hours spent pontificating about my life, I had plenty of time-wasting hours to flick through the telly, surf the web, make cups of tea, clean the apartment, attend the gym and learn how to bake cookies from the wonderful Martha Stewart. Yesterday, I had the pleasure of watching a wonderful movie, finally to say the least. My previous ventures with cinema were quite disappointing and miserable up till now. I wasted many hours of my existence on movies that lacked any essence of sincerity and were based on narratives of stupidity. Yesterday, however, was to be a well-wasted day. In the midst of sorting my life out, I switched on the telly to The Hours, a sensitive and moving drama that magnifies a day of the lives of three women of differing time periods, who are all interconnected by Virginia Woolf’s novel, Mrs Dalloway. The movie portrays, in my view, how women deal with uncertainties of life and discomforts with their present selves in varying ways. As most will know, the film focuses on one day of each of the women’s’ lives, with the understanding that one's whole life can be illustrated by magnifying a few hours/moments of it. Virginia Woolf, one of three ladies, was labelled as ‘insane’ by society whilst she questioned her own life dilemmas and happiness; another abandons her family to escape the self-imposed prison she placed on her life; and the third ponders the way time has lead her life to develop in ways less ideal than one would be expect.
During the movie, I couldn’t avoid reflecting on my own analysis and consistent quizzing of life’s quandaries. There was a quote at the end of the movie, 'to look life in the face and know it for what it is, and to love it for what it is'. The ‘hours’ of each of the women’s lives portrayed the overarching themes to their whole life, and in that, one could appreciate the meaning of life within a snapshot. To take this idea to another level, I would love to be able to pop my head out of the ‘now’ and to see what and how this part of the puzzle, this phase in my life, fits into the total picture. I wonder whether the next hours are so essential to everything surrounding it, that life could fall one way or the other every moment in time. And if so, I could stop analysing, relax and move with these moments. Maybe things right now, such as career and the void of Western comforts, wouldn’t be such a loss if they were placed in perspective to the ‘whole’ picture.
I came to realise, when watching ‘The Hours’ , that I am not alone with these thoughts. I am not hysterical, over-emotional or even over-analytical, or maybe, just a bit. But truly, I am a grown women experiencing certain essential moments of life, and with my fingers crossed, hoping that I will take the right turn.
Again, this was one of my crazy, over-thinking moments. I guess if I was born into Virginia Woolf’s generation, I would be labelled as ‘insane’ … Gosh, thank goodness for change.
Interesting read, if you are a bore like me: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hours_%28novel%29
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
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