Pieces of Joy, Remnants of the Fam

Sorting through the Bag filled with remnants of my life
Through Israel, Brooklyn, Woodstock and back to Israel again.
Tripping through sand dunes and woodlands
Piecing together the fragments of roots, wings and spines.

Maybe I have roots and wings - it’s just the spine that can’t carry.
Or maybe like my pathetic and dying garden – cursed by the elements. Either not enough water or too much fertilizer – or just the air has been hostile, though my feeling is that it is the soil. Compact. Too dense. Too too. Old pattern of extremes. In all my travelings – too much – too little- too late and too early.

The ever present regulators not functioning.
Being in overdrive.

In sorting through finding loose ends and connections to where I come from. In gratitude to my great-aunt in Florida who sent me the Family Tree. Lots of name changings along with creativity and beauty – along with the proverbial tragedies in all their manifestations.

Manifestos and photos. A reminder here of how imploded we all are. My brother’s daughter – we were once close – I haven’t seen or spoken to her in years ever since I last heard she doesn’t want anything to do with her father's side of the family – see also my side. The dysfunction too much for anyone to take. We are almost the same age – give or take 5 years. Spent years together in Jerusalem – and had some good times. Where is she and where am I and could we ever bridge it and is it Meant to be.

The whole family – both on father and mother’s side – cast off into the wind. Nobody speaks to anyone – strangers to one another. I have siblings – there is nothing in common except blood and history. They’ve sailed different seas. I have nieces and nephews who I couldn’t keep track of through the years of my undoing and so – they too were gone only alive somewhat in the imagination from spell to spell. My great-grandfather seems to loom largest and strongest with me. Deep affection I hold to this man of ritual and song – Nachum who spent his days offering edible species to G-d and song and prayer in repentance and gratitude, moving heaven and earth with the power of his voice.

Finally - the mess is sorted. Genealogy to one side in a pocket folder of yellow. Healing incantations into the folder of green and my writing from the days of ACOA, biking and driving through the Catskills - in the purple.

Lots thrown out. Report cards, correspondences, things that don't matter on paper anymore. Gone and done with. No regrets, only that it was not done before.

Ah, the power of shedding.