A Journey of One

She asked me, “Why are you not writing anymore?”

I went quiet. I didn’t know how to respond. How can you respond when there are no words, signs, or tokens for what I can feel, for what I can see, for what I can experience? How to tell her that whatever I write has already been written, and we are all just the scribes of one true Creator, trying to decode the message?

Maybe you think this is all just an excuse and I’ve grown lazy. Maybe that’s true in some sort, but I will ask you: who is the one who gives the inspiration to create, to love, to desire, to share? If I don’t feel like I’m the one who needs to write at the moment, if I don’t feel it in the depths of my soul, do I need to force it? It seems that nowadays, we are all trying to force something that is not part of the true essence of our soul.

Throughout my life, all my blessings came in the form of other people. All my desires and passions were a mirror of the reality which I lived, which I experienced with others. I desired to learn how to care for others, and the Creator brought me a mother who cares for me more than for herself. I desired to experience art and music, and the Creator brought me to her. I desired to be pushed intellectually, and the Creator gave me a person with whom I spent seven years of my youthful formation, who pushed just enough. I wanted to convert to Judaism and have a beautiful family, and the Creator gave me a person who will be the foundation of my journey. I desired to be ambitious and in politics, and the Creator brought me to a person who is more than what I ever desired.

Many things, as many of us, I have done and not done in fear of not being accepted, not being understood; the fear of being alone with myself. The fear of looking myself in the mirror and hearing the voice of my soul, which is beyond time and space, yearning to be free.

Did I break the rules? The teaching of the Torah? Did I do all of this just for myself? Maybe I did. Maybe I pushed just a bit more than what was needed. But who gave me the power, the will? Who pushed me beyond the firmament and back, if not the Creator themselves?

All of you were my creators, the messengers from the one True, and I love all of it—the darkness and light which you gave me—as the blessings of the Creator always come in the form of other people.

One phrase is on my mind at this time: “seven need to die so one can live.”

I have a feeling that I went through the flood, through all my fears and trials. Maybe by looking myself in the mirror, I killed seven of me—even the best ones—so just one can live. And maybe it’s my time to follow the essence of my soul, which I can still hear screaming the words:

“I desire to be where all things become. I desire eternity. I deserve to know more. I am boldness.”

So I’m not giving up on more light, for she is me and I am her. But one thing will be different: when I speak to you, I know now that I speak to the Creator.