What's in a dream? The American Dream. We all have one. What did you want to be when you were a kid? What are you most afraid of? Do that. Go for it. Take a leap of faith. Messages I have received and listened to and followed for that matter. Here I sit in LA, 'following my dream' considering myself to be brave, when all the while, what if my life's purpose has been completely superficial?
Shani Cohen. She's 2 years younger than me and is entering her 4th year in the Israeli army. So full of life and joy, she is. The ultimate bad ass. A horse riding, basketball playing, baby sister to three older brothers, multiple ring wearing, long hair shaking, uniform rocking, Ethiopian shoulder dancing, beat dropping kind of girl. Completely in the moment. Her passion for life and people permeates the air around her.
You would never know that at any moment she could be forced to leave everything behind and risk her life for her country. And the most unbelievable part, she would do it. Gladly. Her life has a purpose. To serve her nation, her people, her family.
As we pull into Jerusalem, caked in the dirt of the desert, smelling like the camels we just rode, after crawling through underground caves that the Jews dug to escape the persecution of the Romans, Shani leans across the aisle of our giant tour bus. A tour bus reminiscent of the Polar Express, only it's not a train, it's not a Christmas story and it's filled with wide eyed American young adults, not children, ranging from ages 22 to 26. They are not on a journey to the North Pole, instead they are exploring Israel, looking for some meaning in their lives through a connection to their pasts, the pasts that existed generations before their time on this planet came to be.
She asks me if we can room together. She is one of 5 Israeli soldiers who has been awarded a week vacation from the army to join this group of 49 Americans and teach them about Israel. It is difficult for me to imagine that out of all the interesting people on our trip that she could room with, she picks me! I jump at the opportunity, excited to get to know her and learn about her perspective on life. Never did I expect for her stories and friendship to change my life. Strange how that happens. One conversation with someone can change everything. It can reveal all of our denial and fears and truths in one fell swoop.
After dinner, I brush my teeth and wash my face and round the corner as Shani sits on her bed laughing at the TV. She is watching the MTV show, 'My Sweet Sixteen.' She asks me if people are really like this in LA. I am unsure of how to answer her question... 'Not all people are like that... But, some are.' I tell her.
I find myself feeling shame for a culture to which I don't subscribe, but somehow undeniably belong. She wants to know what it's like living in LA--what my story is... So I tell her. All the while realizing how far away I am from my family, how self centered my pursuit of happiness sounds and how empty such a dream seems when standing next to the dream of a person who actually fights for the existence of their country and their people every day.
The next day I find myself standing next to her in the graveyard of Israel's deceased soldiers at Mount Herzl, the national cemetery in Jerusalem. Story after story of young person who gave their life to a cause greater than their own existence surround me. Shani asks me in a completely honest and somehow jovial way, how many funerals I have been to in my life? I tell her, '5 or 6.' She doesn't respond. I gather that she has been to many more... I realize that all 5 soldiers who stand nearby, including Shani, most likely understand the death of loved ones, and not from old age, on an entirely different level than I. The existence of their country is a question that is raised every day. Living like that causes one to appreciate what they have. Family. Love. Friendship. What else is there really?
I come home to the US to find out that my 70 year old father has to have a hip replacement. My parents are probably moving. An empty apartment and a realization that the people I care most about are the furthest away from me. All I have is my dream and I'm not sure why it is my dream.
So now here I sit. And my stream of consciousness leads me to the acknowledgement that maybe being close to my family is the most important thing. Maybe finding a job where I help others every day is what I should do. Maybe allowing myself to love instead of guarding myself for some future moment is the answer. Maybe following the dream isn't necessarily the most important part, but instead figuring out what it is about my dream that makes it worth the fight.
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