{"id":4808,"date":"2011-04-21T12:34:39","date_gmt":"2011-04-21T19:34:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lilith.org\/?p=2228"},"modified":"2011-04-21T12:34:39","modified_gmt":"2011-04-21T19:34:39","slug":"commemorating","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lilith.org\/2011\/04\/commemorating\/","title":{"rendered":"Commemorating"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/span>It was one week into my family\u2019s trip to Israel, and we lost our camera. Perhaps it was stolen. Most likely it fell out of the bottom of the stroller, while I was digging for sunscreen, or pretzels, or a hat. Perhaps it was the inevitable sacrifice, to appease the gods who watch over those who travel with young children and worry about losing BPA-free bottles and spoons, favorite dolls’ clothing, socks, diaper-bags, not to mention, of course, the children themselves. I noticed the camera was gone when the children were bathed and clean and dressed for the Sabbath. The girls had flower head-bands in their hair and the baby was wearing a vest, the sun was setting over the walls of the old city in Jerusalem, and the air smelled of the exhaust fumes of the last Friday buses, and of jasmine.<\/span><\/p>\n What upset me most was losing a week\u2019s worth of pictures. My oldest moaned: \u201cnow it\u2019s like we were never here.\u201d I momentarily entertained the thought of buying a new camera, and retracing our steps. My husband suggested that we could leave pages of our photo-album blank; a trip of blind images, wisps of memories trickling ephemeral from between our fingers. <\/span><\/p>\n Now, though, that it is Passover, and the leavened excesses of our existence have been burned, for the moment, and, as a people, we are immersed in the preservation of an ancient psychic memory, the loss seems strangely appropriate. It has reminded me to spend some time experiencing, rather than preserving an experience. I have become so accustomed to reflecting while living, that, perhaps, I have cheated myself out of the full joy of being, of living, without trying to figure out how to package, market, preserve that life. My camera, Twitter account, Facebook site, all at once seem like chametz<\/a>, bloated with self, replete with very me. How appropriate to be without a camera on Passover, to travel, suddenly, lighter, with a different lens. Emptying myself of these vehicles for expression, I find more space to be. I am reminded of a poem<\/a> by Sir Thomas Browne:<\/span><\/p>\n If Thou Could\u2019st Empty All Thyself of Self<\/span><\/p>\n If thou could`st empty all thyself of self, But thou art all replete with very thou
\nLike to a shell dishabited,
\nThen might He find thee on the ocean shelf,
\nAnd say, `This is not dead`,
\nAnd fill thee with Himself instead.<\/span><\/p>\n
\nAnd hast such shrewd activity,
\nThat when He comes, He says, `This is enow
\nUnto itself – `twere better let it be,
\nIt is so small and full, there is no room for me.`<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n