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It’s another one of those days today, where I’m waking up with zero motivation to do anything.

Yes, I’ll still hang the washing, make some supper, type a few things, go for a walk – probably. I’m trying to stick to ‘routine’, even though so much of everything feels so utterly pointless at the moment.

But deep down, the ‘fire’ that used to power so much of my day, so many of my activities, seems to have burned out.

I’m not depressed. I don’t feel miserable. I just feel ‘flat’ – but not in a sad way.

It’s a very strange state of affairs, and I’m writing about it because I’m wondering if it’s just me?

I see my kids, my husband, we’re all kind of staggering forward like zombies, doing things because we have to, and not even minding doing most of what we’re doing. But it still seems so pointless at the moment.

Even stuff I really do like, and I really do feel is meaningful – like giving charity, like trying to help other people, like having deep and meaningful discussions – I don’t feel any ‘zing’ from doing these things right now.

I was discussing it with my husband, and what came to mind is when the Men of the Great Assembly decided to rid the world of the yetzer hara for lust. It came roaring out of the Holy of Holies – and for three days, the world ground to a stop.

The chickens stopped laying their eggs. People stopped acting and reacting – it’s like that lust was fueling the natural functioning of life on planet earth, and when the Men of the Great Assembly pulled the plug on it, they pulled the plug on ‘life as we know it’.

And things couldn’t continue like that, so after three days they reluctantly restored the yetzer hara for lust to the world, and things continued on their merry way.

We know that when Moshiach comes, the yetzer hara is finally going to disappear, at least in the form we currently know it. So I was sitting there, pondering if maybe, just maybe, Moshiach really is in the world now, and that’s why so many of us are struggling to find any motivation for anything.

Maybe, just maybe, the yetzer hara is on the way out, it’s on its last legs, and none of us can lay eggs or hatch plans for the future right now.

I know, what about all those angry, ‘motivated’ people still walking around in their droves?

I’ve been pondering that, too, and we know that just before it’s snuffed out for good, the yetzer hara will mount its biggest defense, and fight it’s harshest war.

Seems to me, the people who are still ‘motivated’, in that angry, evil, attacking way that unfortunately characterizes so much of what passes as human interaction these days, are kind of looking at their last chance to shape up, and move on into the time of Moshiach.

There’s no more pretending, no more shoving things under the carpet.

Every day brings a fresh story of where people’s obvious mental illness is peeking out more and more clearly. It’s getting harder and harder for us all to pretend it’s business as usual, because it clearly isn’t. There are so many people who are standing at their crossroads where they can either finally admit they aren’t perfect, and return back to God – or fall even deeper into their madness and their negative behavior.

And both sets of behavior are happening, all over the place.

That’s part of what makes the world so hard to live in at the moment.

Last week, one of my correspondents sent me the video of Rav Glazerson, where he brings the recent message from Rav Chaim Kanievsky that Moshiach will be here before the Israeli elections, on April 9th.

I told my kids about it on Shabbat, and surprisingly, to me, they got a bit annoyed with me for talking about it.

Gosh, Ima, every two months you bring someone else saying that, and nothing’s happening! I don’t believe it, they always just say things and it doesn’t happen.

It’s that geula fatigue I wrote about elsewhere. We’re so fed up of waiting that many of us don’t even want to hear about Moshiach coming anymore.

I get that, I really do.

At the same time, another one of my correspondents pointed out that it’s precisely when we’re not expecting him, when we’ve given up, when we’ve got zero motivation for geula, that Moshiach finally appears.

Are we close?

Maybe.

And in the meantime, finding any oomph to do anything much is proving more and more difficult.

If you’ve been reading this blog this week, you’ll know that I’ve been in a pretty bad mood where life has seemed pretty meaningless, and everything I do pointless.

I’ve just had this feeling for a few days that nothing I do counts, or matters, and that I’m adrift in the universe without really knowing what I’m actually meant to be doing here.

I thought it was just me, but then one of my kids started telling me how she’s feeling life, and school, is so heavy and meaningless at the moment… and then one of my friends called me and told me: ‘Rivka, I’m going crazy! I just feel so frustrated, and that my life is so empty and pointless, and all these bad middot are pouring out that I never even knew were there!”

The person saying this is objectively one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, a busy mother, and constantly trying to do kindnesses and to work on herself, spiritually. My daughter is also a mitzvah machine, and is constantly engaged in big and small attempts at fixing the world.

And me?

Well, I actually write a lot of useful stuff (mostly behind the scenes, for other people…) so intellectually, I know I’m not wasting my life as much as I could be. And yet, that ‘life is meaningless vibe’ also blew me off my feet this week.

Yesterday, I bundled my sourpuss self into my car, and drove up to my youngest daughter’s new high-school, or Ulpana, where they were having ‘a night for mothers and daughters’.

In the past, these nights have almost always been a peculiar form of torture, where I had to follow instructions in Hebrew I couldn’t understand, to say or do things that were mortifyingly embarrassing even if it was all in English, and where I’d just kind of space out and dissociate to get through.

(I have a huge amount of C-PTSD from attending 12 years’ of these ‘events’ in Israel.)

So, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it.

I get there (20 minutes late, to try to minimize the torture…), and my kid whisked me straight into the (packed…) classroom. Sigh. Gulp. Unveil the thumbscrews. The young, very pregnant teacher smiled sweetly, handed me a whole big sheet (in close typeset Hebrew….) and started to discuss – Rebbe Nachman’s tale of the Lost Princess!

My spirits rose, because I already knew this story really well, so maybe I could actually fake participating in the group exercises, this time around! The teacher was not at all bossy (what a relief!) not at all insisting that I read out all the personal stuff I’d discussed with my daughter in my terrible spoken Hebrew (thanks, Hashem!) and also, unusually insightful about the story.

“It’s about the process, not the goal!” She told the class. “Don’t get so hung up on the outcome, or the exam! It’s all just about the journey!”

Hmmm.

The next stage of mental torture began.

I had to mill around with the other mums, feeling completely like I don’t belong and having intermittent bouts of ‘mitpachat envy’ when another toweringly colorful creation entered the room.

My hair is at a really awkward length at the mo, so anything I try to put on my head looks awful. The best I can do is try to smother it in a tea-cosy type hat which isn’t so ‘cool’, but at least keeps most of my hair under wraps.

Luckily, this awkward stage was also cut short by my kid finding us a deserted spot on the swinging bench outside, where we could eat our soup in peace and gaze at the stars spotting the Shomron sky.

Then it was time for the main event, the hatzega, or show. I usually try to park myself as close to the aisle as possible, so I can feign going to the toilet five times, if required for mental health purposes. This time, my kid made me sit right at the end of the row, right at the top of the benchers.

Kid, are you crazy?! Don’t you know this stuff makes me claustrophobic?!

But as I sat down, I could feel a reassuring vibe in the air.

As I was about to discover, Rabbenu was in the building.

We got through the standard menahelet’s opening speech OK. Not too long, not too boring, not too self-righteous, preachy and subtly menacing – and then it was time for the main event, which turned out to be a half-acted / half-filmed rendition of The Lost Princess!

To cut a long story short, while three young Israeli women acted out the story onstage, the narrative was spliced together with interviews on screen with four Israelis who were living the story of the Lost Princess (as indeed, we all actually are.)

One had been abused by a step-father, and left home as a young teen to live on the streets for a couple of years. One had a bad accident at age two that left him blind and almost deaf. Another, Miriam Peretz, had two sons killed in action in the IDF. And a fourth was a famous Israeli entertainer who’d felt so soul-dead and empty in the midst of all her success, she’d lost the will to live and the ability to get up in the morning.

That was how the story began, with the Lost Princess being banished to the place of ‘no good’, a place where the outside all looked so shiny and amazing, but where the inside was painful, empty misery.

These four people on screen explained how the ‘no good’ had played out in their own lives. The homeless teen had done parties and drugs; the entertainer had done more songs, more shows, more ‘celeb’ stuff, etc.

But then, came the point when they realized that wasn’t the answer – that all the escapism and superficiality was killing them – and the quest to reclaim the Lost Princess really began. They tried to pull themselves up by their boot straps, and to move on.

The blind guy learnt how to shoot hoops and started working out, and became the Tanach champion of the year; the homeless girl decided to start dreaming of a future where she’d be married, a mother, in her own warm, loving home. Miriam Peretz decided to reclaim life and to start enjoying cake again, after the death of her first son.

But at the last minute, the quest failed.

They ate the apple and fell asleep just at the moment they could rescue the Lost Princess. She reappeared, distraught but encouraging, and told them to try again, to spend another year trying again.

So they did.

And again, at the last moment the ‘success’ was snatched away from them, and they fell very, very badly.

They gave up hope. They didn’t want to continue. They didn’t want to be alive anymore. They couldn’t take the endless struggle, the endless knock backs, the endless reminders of their issues, lacks and problems. They couldn’t escape the feeling that their life was completely meaningless, and that they were stuck in awful circumstances that they couldn’t get out of.

But the story continued.

At some point, they woke up, and quest began again.

Miriam Peretz decided to use her grief to inspire others, and to do good in the world in the memory of her two dead sons. To remember her pain, but also to remember her ongoing joy in life, too.

The homeless teen got herself off the streets, and found a caring, frum midrasha to go to. The blind guy taught himself computers, and started making a fortune in hi-tech. The entertainer finally got married, had children, got frum – and experienced inner peace for the first time in her life.

In short: they came a huge step closer to finding the lost princess.

Rebbe Nachman’s story doesn’t actually end, because life doesn’t ‘end’, until it inevitably does.

It’s the journey that matters, not the destination, which is fixed for every single one of us.

I sat there transfixed throughout this show. I had chills down my back in parts, I cried my eyes out in others, and above all, I had an abiding sense of gratitude and hope that this is where I live, this is what I’m part of, these are the messages that my children are getting in school.

Not that they have to be perfect, soul-less, frum robots. Not that they have to pretend that they never fall, or struggle, or have huge crises of faith. But that falling down, and getting up again, are part of the journey, part of the quest.

And it’s the journey that really counts.

——–

I just want to add one more thing, here, about living in Israel.

I know it’s such a controversial topic for so many reasons, but I can see that so many of the things that are so wrong about the Jewish world, orthodox and otherwise, in chutz l’aretz stem from this need to keep sweeping the real issues we all face under the rug, and to pretend all is well, and that the Jewish community doesn’t have any problems.

Nobody’s falling around here!!! Nobody’s sick to death of all the materialism, competition and superficiality engulfing their lives!!! Nobody hates their job so much it’s literally making them physically ill!!! Nobody’s got issues to work on!!! Nobody feels so lost and lonely they literally don’t want be alive anymore!!!

Except of course, when they do, and that’s when they’re summarily bundled onto Prozac or some other ‘mood stabilising’ narcotic.

In Israel, life is dealt with square on. You can still be an orthodox Jew and express pain, and disappointment, and admit to having flaws and faults, and hating kugel recipes.

This basic level of ‘realness’ is so missing, so lacking, in the Anglo-Jewish world, regardless of religious observance.

The streets of chutz l’aretz are paved with gold, I know. But maybe, the real you doesn’t want that, doesn’t like it, and knows how much it’s really killing you?

I’m not saying that Israel is the only place you can find your Lost Princess, but I am saying that increasingly, Israel is the only place where frum Jews are encouraged to be real, and to be truthful about who they really are and what they really feel.

And when people can’t be real, really them, warts n’all, they’re never going to even start looking for the Lost Princess, let alone finding her.

You know, it’s just struck me how so many of us are so busy ‘competing’ for attention / kudos / success / popularity etc, that it’s making it really hard for us to appreciate what other people are actually trying to do to build the world. (As always, I’m talking about myself…)

Someone sent me a newsletter for her new website: it was beautifully done, and very colourful and professional. My first thought was: ‘Wow! This looks so impressive!’

My second thought was: ‘Man, I could never do something this good…’

My third thought was: ‘What the heck am I saying??!?!?’

Because instead of appreciating the time and effort that had gone into my correspondant’s beautiful site, my yetzer instead had me wasting time and effort on tearing myself down.

I had to work for a good half an hour to stop feeling like a complete loser again, and to focus on what G-d (and Rav Arush…) want me to focus on, namely, gratitude.

Whenever I get sucked into ‘competing’, I can’t be grateful for the beautiful light others are shining into the world.

The ‘plus’ that G-d sends my way turns into a ‘minus’, and instead of feeling happy that there are such amazing things going on around me, I start fretting that someone else’s light is somehow detracting from my own.

But it’s baloney!!

Once I worked all that out, I decided I needed to call the person in question, and tell her how great her site looked. I needed to appreciate her time and effort, and get my own insecurities out the way. So I did.

I’m currently re-learning, for the millionth time, that it’s not a competition. There is enough success / attention / kudos / appreciation / light available for everyone, and instead of worrying that I’m not ‘good enough’, I just need to appreciate all the good out there, and to trust that G-d will help me to shine my own light in whatever way it needs to happen, whenever it needs to happen.