Now that our big business idea in the Old City has failed spectacularly, taking a whole bunch of money with it, I kind of don't care so much about money right now. Maybe I've just gone completely mad, who knows, but we spent such a huge wad on what turned into dust and ashes, that spending a couple of hundred shekels on tickets for Shlomo Katz seems like a great deal, by comparison.
Some singers are absolutely brilliant live, and Shlomo Katz is one of them.
I sat down with my kids, waiting for the show to begin, and it took me one and a half seconds to realize that pretty much the whole crowd was anglo.
It was all expensive wigs and big black kippas with i-Phones and Gap chinos.
It was like stepping back in time 10 years, to when I lived in London and spent as much time as I could in Israel on holiday, doing 'fun' things like going to a Shlomo Katz concert.
As often happens to me these days, I sighed a very deep sigh, and started to wonder what 'I' would be like, if I was attending as a tourist, and not as someone who'd made aliya.
For sure, my clothes would be newer and more expensive. For sure, we'd all be playing on our i-Phones, instead of talking to each other. My kids would probably also be much more expensively dressed; my hair would probably be uncovered, and dyed to look like I hadn't aged 10 years; I'd probably be in some version of jeans and boots, and my husband would be doing the close-crop-hair-with-massive-black-kippa-and-no-beard-or-peyot look.
I sighed another deep sigh.
I hate to say it, but part of me misses that easy gashmiut, and that fake sense of being 'someone'.
The real me who was sitting there was wearing a five year old skirt, a three year old top, a cheap knitted beret and a new coat I bought for 50 shekel (around $12). I guess that wouldn't matter, if the real me was running a charity, or saving the world, or even just managing to be a happy, fulfilled Jew.
But let's just say, I'm struggling on all those fronts, too. It's one thing to give up 'olam hazeh' for 'olam habah', but when you appear to have neither, that's a real test of emuna.
As I was musing about all this, the concert started - in English, as Shlomo Katz also realized that the only Israelis in the room were the sound technicians.
I am between two worlds at the moment, in so many ways. I'm between Israel and London; I' between gashmius and ruchnius; I'm between holy and profane; between having emuna, and having massive, soul-wracking doubts about everything.
I know where I want to get to: to happiness, to satisfaction, to inner peace, to 'success', in whichever way it should come in order for me to have the first three things in this list.
I have no idea how to get there, any more. I've prayed so much; I've tried so hard to be 'good'; I've given G-d everything I have. I hope soon, He'll untie whatever is keeping me held back, and let me move on and move forward in my life.
Until then, I'm between two worlds: neither an anglo, nor an Israeli; neither completely 'there', or completely lost; neither 100% dead to the material world, nor 100% alive, spiritually.
Waiting for G-d to finally make a decision, and to help me 'be' someone real, somewhere that actually feels like 'home', once again.