Losing My Religion

I’ve lost my spirituality.

I didn’t think anyone or anything could take it from me, but it’s gone. And I want it back.

I sacrificed a lot to move to Iowa. I gave up a lot. My body doesn’t let me forget it. But I should’ve never let it get to this point.

Yesterday marked two years since a dear friend departed this world as we know it. Avi was a hero in so many ways, and he always lived this life with 110% ¬†passion and love. I feel as though I’ve fallen a little short in his memory. It used to be easy. So much of my life was my religion. Entire summers strolling down Peppertree Lane at Alonim. Serving on youth group board. Going to conventions and weekends. All of those things helped me celebrate spirit, faith, and community.

Now.

I’m in Iowa, thousands of miles from that feeling. I know I should be able to feel it anywhere. I can’t feel it here because I can’t feel home here.

I need to feel that sense of community again. I want to feel the way I did when I first saw Jerusalem. I want to feel the way it feels on Friday nights at Alonim, when everyone’s arms are around each other’s, and time just stops.

I never realized how much I missed all of this until I realized I was empty of it.

I need to rediscover the feeling. The song. The dance. The passion. The stories. The hope. Ha’tikva.

 

 

 

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