Fatherless Child
Trip Start
Oct 30, 2007
1
83
99
Trip End
Ongoing
Ko Phangan,
Thailand
Thursday, February 19, 2009
On December 21, 2000 I woke up and did not know that my brother Tsiyon was killed while I was sleeping. I went to school and only when I returned home at 4 pm my neighbor Roni told me that my brother died. If you do not know that someone you love died, are they really dead?
Here at the yoga teacher training we are in the midst of a process called Ekadasi Kriya, an 11-day breathing practice that is aimed to weed out past traumas and stories we created about ourselves throughout our childhoods. My father is connected to many of the childhood stories I created about myself. The ones about not being good enough, about being too weak, vulnerable, unlovable, odd, etc.
He was not a bad man or a bad father. He was a simple man who, like so many of us, got caught up following a path someone else carved for him. He never really stopped to examine why he was living his life the way he did. After all, everyone he knew lived the same life, so why not? From the perspective of a small boy, however, his lack of interest or affection left a pretty big emotional scar. When I was in my Thirties it donned on me that my father never hugged me. That was a harsh awakening I obsessed over for many years to come.
A couple years ago an astrologer told me that in a previous life my father was my child and that we've changed roles in this life time for a reason. Something about karmic ties. I don't know that I believe this and if it is true, the reason still alludes me.
Not going to my father's funeral may sound like an horrific crime to some (it does to me, to a certain degree), but that is exactly what I decided to do. When I heard the news I felt guilty for feeling no sadness whatsoever. Later on, when I uttered the words "my father died" I started crying, but I'm not really sure why. Maybe I was crying because I never felt like I had a father in the first place.
I decided to stay in Thailand for now to finish my teacher training. I will probably go to Israel after the course. I believe I'll be of better help to my mother at that time, after the visitors stop coming, when I'm better equipped to guide her to better health with all the knowledge I'll accumulate here.
I asked her what she wanted me to do and she told me to finish the course. She also requested that I'd observe the Sheevaa (seven days of mourning) here in Thailand by not eating meat (which I don't anyway) and pray for my dad. I will do that, but I think I will also take upon myself a vow of silence for seven days. I believe it will help me contemplate and let go of the unhealthy relationship I had with my dad, in the hope that it would lead me to a place of compassion for the both of us.
Amen.
