I know there is a reality where I am healed”

I am not sure if I am happy to hear my father say these words, or scared from the coming heartbreak.

“Of course, why do you think you’ve always been into Kabbalah?”

is the only thing I can muster saying.

The primary wisdom found beyond the veil always points to a truth that we have co-creative powers (the ‘co’ part is for your ego’s comfort) for our everyday physical reality.

As a man thinketh.

I look at my father, it’s obvious the cannabis oil is working.

His face relaxes for the first time since we wheeled away from the airport in Tel Aviv. Yet, with his relaxing face, I sense in him an even greater heartbreak than my own.

I have been curious why he hasn’t been willing to use cannabis ever since his diagnosis just a few short months ago.

“Oriya,” I hear him say on the phone, his voice raw and mildly disassociated,

“They found a forest in my lungs.”

Damn it. I literally just left him.

After all the years he worked to get me back, I left him on his own, to deal with the debacle of the healing farm. I had my own healing farm debacle to navigate. It’s why I left.

“Oh,” I hear myself say, hating the fact that I am not surprised—he always said “cigarettes will kill me” and he was getting terribly scared of his upcoming retirement age…

“What do you say I come be with you and the boys? I want to be with my grandkids.”

“Of course, Abba.”

God damn it. WTF, this is not a good time. I am running out of my ‘tourist in Israel’ days and I need to get my life in order.

You see, when I asked my father for permission to bail out on him & my life in America to move back to Israel with Karri, I had to make him a promise:

“Just promise me you will act like a tourist in Israel, for at least a year, maybe two... don’t get into anything, don’t get involved with anyone, Israel is a small country, you can get in trouble without even trying.”

I promised happily, over the 3rd joint.

I was quite surprised at his level of approval and support for my desired move, totally running away from my own shadows - hoping to heal my own heart where I left it 23 years earlier.

And now, two years after this conversation, after spending more than a year being a tourist in Israel, licking my wounds, micro-dosing LSD during the day, drinking my three beers at evenings and taking Grandma’s sleeping pill at night, you are keeled over in a wheelchair telling me you can tap into a reality where you are healed?!

Of course, you can, Dad.

This is the first time I hear you say it, but only after I finally had you agree to take some of the Rick Simpson Cannabis Oil.

I have been really surprised to hear that you refused to use the oil since you heard about your lung forest. I mean, you have been using stuff everyday for decades, why stop now?

Why stop when you have finally have a reason to use it for the original purpose of this medicine?

I watch you in the wheelchair experiencing the medicine, it must have been so hard not feeling this relief for the last few months.

I am happy to know you know, and you’re admitting it aloud—you can come out of this personal nightmare of yours.

Something feels strange though. As normal this feeling should be, it ain't.

The horror of the truth hits me right there and then—I now know why you have not been wanting to ingest your favorite medicine.

You sure know “about” the reality where you don’t have stage four lung cancer and that you’re hanging with your kids and grandkids, but you are not connected to it.

This upcoming death of your physical body is a self-fulfilling prophecy, on a soul-level and you have no real interest in battling it. it.

I can tell. I get it, no wonder you don’t want to use cannabis anymore. It’s way too hard to see this alternate reality yet know it isn’t your path.

I respect it. I respect your journey Abba.

We have been playing this abandonment game for almost 40 years.

You leave me, I leave you,

you leave me, I leave you

and now you’re about to leave me one last time.

Just so you don’t have to no more…