A VERY long story about a night I spent in jail.
Dear Mohammed, (and all my FB friends)
Thank you for the letters and poems that you’ve sent me.
I am touched and inspired.
My mind is thinking in circles now.
I have been hearing so many stories, have been noticing so much healing going on around me.
I feel like I am taking a detour here, from where I last stopped writing to you.
It feels strange not to pick up where I’ve left.
I feel like I may lose the continuity, and therefore, things may not integrate into a whole picture.
I believe that this is the reason that many humans are so not integrated.
They think that it is NORMAL to have beautiful sides to their personality AND to hold on to the dark side of their personality AND to live happily.
I do not think it works.
I think that only by bringing into the “light,” your dark side, and by daring to look at it, to reflect on it, - that you are able to fully understand it, and to see the beauty in the pattern that made us take that path.
There are NO dark corners in this beautiful Universe.
No dark corners truly exist in the soul of a man either- It is only in our fear to look inside and to explore our own minds, that we believe it could be so.
Well, let me get off my spherical thinking here and go back to our communication.
From the poems you’ve sent me, I chose to respond to this one, as I was most touched by it. (by Davies William)
You described it as “Showing your actual character:”
(I also love the photo of you at the dinner party with your arms outstretched...happily, dancing....)
“I am the Poet Davies William,
I sin without a blush or blink:
I am a man that lives to eat ;
I am a man that lives to drink .
My face is large , my lips are thick ,
My skin is coarse and black almost;
But the ugliest feature is my verse,
Which proves my soul is black and lost.
Thank heaven thou didst not marry me ,
A poet full of blackest evil;
For how to manage my damned soul
Will puzzle many a flaming devil.”
I love this poem!
It is raw and honest.
It talks about an earthy man who knows his limitations.
Knows the dark side of his character and is NOT ashamed to show it.
To sing about it out loud.
I can relate.
Although, I must admit that:
I do often blush...
and I blink constantly...
But,
I do see myself as a beautiful woman now....
But I have NOT always felt so.
I have some stories to tell, that will raise the hair on your forearms.
I have said it before; I feel like I am standing on the tip of an iceberg with much more to reveal than I have the strength to dare.
Some I have written, but do not dare to publish on FB.
Some are written in my memory, and I lack the courage to put them down on paper.
I will share here one very painful memory.
I am doing so to heal myself.
to heal my past
to integrate my life
And my hope is that, in me doing so, others will find the courage or the sense to dare to reflect and to heal their own wounds.
I had many husbands.
Married many times.
Loved many men.
But,
I was arrested only once.
spent a single night in jail.
My heart is still broken over that incident.
But it had brought me, into close contact with many woman
I would have never met otherwise.
Woman I normally would not socialize with.
We simply do not live on the same “street” in life.
But I am grateful now for that experience.
I can see the “beauty” in that pattern now.
Allow me to explain how it all began:
It started on a Christmas week in Miami (Aventura to be exact).
I was an artist and married to my third husband.
I was sending Christmas/ New Year cards, to my clients.
To the people that loved my art and bought it through the years.
I had not kept ALL their names and addresses, but there were around 800 names that I did keep.
So I printed 800 cards.
I showed them to my husband and he told me that I should sign them all individually- that it is NOT nice... (I hate this word- “nice”) to send clients, a poem with a computer signature.
But, there are 800 of them?????
and would they not understand, that I thought of them and mailed them a poem and my regards AND my gratitude?
I asked...
It felt as if the devil entered him.
He rose from his chair and started cursing me.
He said that I NEVER value his opinion and why do I even bother to ask for his opinion anyway?
His rage escalated and before I knew what was happening, he was pushing me and we were pushing one another.
He was not a violent man before.
He never hit me or demonstrated violence of any kind.
But this was real and VERY scary.
I was lost....
So I called 911, asked the operator for help.
They dispatched a policeman immediately.
When he entered my home, he asked me what had happened.
Finally, I realized, that if I will tell him my side of the story, he will arrest my husband.
I did not want my husband arrested.
I just wanted him out of my life....
And so I said nothing.
thinking that it will come to naught.
But it did not.
The policeman said that due to increase cases of domestic violence, he MUST make an arrest, and since it is obvious that if I was not guilty, I will not keep silent, he concluded; I MUST be the one to blame.
I felt my world, and all the justice, and all the commonsense on earth, crush to the floor, as he handcuffed me and led me to the squad car.
My husband run after the car begging the policemen to take him instead of me.
But the policeman did not believe him.
He thought that my husband is just being chevalier.
To make the story shorter, I spent the night in a corrupt Miami jail.
My cell mate was a famous lawyer in Miami who (surprisingly enough) was also arrested on domestic violence charges.
We spent the whole evening hugging and crying and sharing our pain.
She said she planned to get back with her boyfriend when we get out.
I said I am heading straight to the divorce court.
I cried in self pity for hours.
How could this be happening to ME?
ME? the most sweet and kind person on earth?
Me, who NEVER raised a hand to slap a boyfriend, even when many had crossed the line....?
Me, who NEVER had a physical OR VERBAL fight with a girlfriend OR a man? or a teacher or a dog?
How did I end up here?
Charged with the most hideous crime that is SO not befitting who I am?
what about the ‘laws’ of Karma?
Are you not suppose to pay for what you DID? not for what you have NEVER done?
Well, Mohammed my friend, you get the idea....
I was released the next day and eventually the charges against me were dropped.
My husband and I divorced after along and very expensive battle in which I had to surrender half my house, half my hard earned money and my art.
Later, I have met the policeman that arrested me.
I was doing an art show in Aventura.
He was assigned to patrol and secure the show.
I had stopped him, and confronted him.
I looked straight into the eyes of the man who had sent me to jail.
Who had caused me months of unbearable pain and legal battles in the courts to “clear my name” from a crime I have never committed.
I asked him: “Hey man, do you REMEMBER me?”
(tears were forming in the corners of my eyes, as I looked into the brown pools of his eyes..)
“Not really, should I? Have we met before?” he said,
and with a twinkle in his eyes, he added: “But later, after the show, if you are single, would you like to go for a cup of coffee?”
So this is my Jail story.
Only the facts this time.
I have layers of stories hidden within this one which I may or may not share publicly - depending on my courage and moods.
It helps me to write this to you Mohammed.
Because I want you to know that I am as “earthy” as you.
Filled with pain and memories and wisdom to share.
In the words you used to end your note.
You said:
“I'm waiting for your comments on my personality as represented by the poet Davies in this poem.
Bye Dear Tali.
By the way dear,
Do you know what your name " Tali " means in Arabic?
It means " The Next"
Whereas my own name in Arabic means "Helper"
So why don't we, I & you join our two names in a new compound name To mean : "The Next Helper " !
Do you think it will work dear Tali?”
Yes, Mohammed!
I think it WILL work.
Thank you for the letters and poems that you’ve sent me.
I am touched and inspired.
My mind is thinking in circles now.
I have been hearing so many stories, have been noticing so much healing going on around me.
I feel like I am taking a detour here, from where I last stopped writing to you.
It feels strange not to pick up where I’ve left.
I feel like I may lose the continuity, and therefore, things may not integrate into a whole picture.
I believe that this is the reason that many humans are so not integrated.
They think that it is NORMAL to have beautiful sides to their personality AND to hold on to the dark side of their personality AND to live happily.
I do not think it works.
I think that only by bringing into the “light,” your dark side, and by daring to look at it, to reflect on it, - that you are able to fully understand it, and to see the beauty in the pattern that made us take that path.
There are NO dark corners in this beautiful Universe.
No dark corners truly exist in the soul of a man either- It is only in our fear to look inside and to explore our own minds, that we believe it could be so.
Well, let me get off my spherical thinking here and go back to our communication.
From the poems you’ve sent me, I chose to respond to this one, as I was most touched by it. (by Davies William)
You described it as “Showing your actual character:”
(I also love the photo of you at the dinner party with your arms outstretched...happily, dancing....)
“I am the Poet Davies William,
I sin without a blush or blink:
I am a man that lives to eat ;
I am a man that lives to drink .
My face is large , my lips are thick ,
My skin is coarse and black almost;
But the ugliest feature is my verse,
Which proves my soul is black and lost.
Thank heaven thou didst not marry me ,
A poet full of blackest evil;
For how to manage my damned soul
Will puzzle many a flaming devil.”
I love this poem!
It is raw and honest.
It talks about an earthy man who knows his limitations.
Knows the dark side of his character and is NOT ashamed to show it.
To sing about it out loud.
I can relate.
Although, I must admit that:
I do often blush...
and I blink constantly...
But,
I do see myself as a beautiful woman now....
But I have NOT always felt so.
I have some stories to tell, that will raise the hair on your forearms.
I have said it before; I feel like I am standing on the tip of an iceberg with much more to reveal than I have the strength to dare.
Some I have written, but do not dare to publish on FB.
Some are written in my memory, and I lack the courage to put them down on paper.
I will share here one very painful memory.
I am doing so to heal myself.
to heal my past
to integrate my life
And my hope is that, in me doing so, others will find the courage or the sense to dare to reflect and to heal their own wounds.
I had many husbands.
Married many times.
Loved many men.
But,
I was arrested only once.
spent a single night in jail.
My heart is still broken over that incident.
But it had brought me, into close contact with many woman
I would have never met otherwise.
Woman I normally would not socialize with.
We simply do not live on the same “street” in life.
But I am grateful now for that experience.
I can see the “beauty” in that pattern now.
Allow me to explain how it all began:
It started on a Christmas week in Miami (Aventura to be exact).
I was an artist and married to my third husband.
I was sending Christmas/ New Year cards, to my clients.
To the people that loved my art and bought it through the years.
I had not kept ALL their names and addresses, but there were around 800 names that I did keep.
So I printed 800 cards.
I showed them to my husband and he told me that I should sign them all individually- that it is NOT nice... (I hate this word- “nice”) to send clients, a poem with a computer signature.
But, there are 800 of them?????
and would they not understand, that I thought of them and mailed them a poem and my regards AND my gratitude?
I asked...
It felt as if the devil entered him.
He rose from his chair and started cursing me.
He said that I NEVER value his opinion and why do I even bother to ask for his opinion anyway?
His rage escalated and before I knew what was happening, he was pushing me and we were pushing one another.
He was not a violent man before.
He never hit me or demonstrated violence of any kind.
But this was real and VERY scary.
I was lost....
So I called 911, asked the operator for help.
They dispatched a policeman immediately.
When he entered my home, he asked me what had happened.
Finally, I realized, that if I will tell him my side of the story, he will arrest my husband.
I did not want my husband arrested.
I just wanted him out of my life....
And so I said nothing.
thinking that it will come to naught.
But it did not.
The policeman said that due to increase cases of domestic violence, he MUST make an arrest, and since it is obvious that if I was not guilty, I will not keep silent, he concluded; I MUST be the one to blame.
I felt my world, and all the justice, and all the commonsense on earth, crush to the floor, as he handcuffed me and led me to the squad car.
My husband run after the car begging the policemen to take him instead of me.
But the policeman did not believe him.
He thought that my husband is just being chevalier.
To make the story shorter, I spent the night in a corrupt Miami jail.
My cell mate was a famous lawyer in Miami who (surprisingly enough) was also arrested on domestic violence charges.
We spent the whole evening hugging and crying and sharing our pain.
She said she planned to get back with her boyfriend when we get out.
I said I am heading straight to the divorce court.
I cried in self pity for hours.
How could this be happening to ME?
ME? the most sweet and kind person on earth?
Me, who NEVER raised a hand to slap a boyfriend, even when many had crossed the line....?
Me, who NEVER had a physical OR VERBAL fight with a girlfriend OR a man? or a teacher or a dog?
How did I end up here?
Charged with the most hideous crime that is SO not befitting who I am?
what about the ‘laws’ of Karma?
Are you not suppose to pay for what you DID? not for what you have NEVER done?
Well, Mohammed my friend, you get the idea....
I was released the next day and eventually the charges against me were dropped.
My husband and I divorced after along and very expensive battle in which I had to surrender half my house, half my hard earned money and my art.
Later, I have met the policeman that arrested me.
I was doing an art show in Aventura.
He was assigned to patrol and secure the show.
I had stopped him, and confronted him.
I looked straight into the eyes of the man who had sent me to jail.
Who had caused me months of unbearable pain and legal battles in the courts to “clear my name” from a crime I have never committed.
I asked him: “Hey man, do you REMEMBER me?”
(tears were forming in the corners of my eyes, as I looked into the brown pools of his eyes..)
“Not really, should I? Have we met before?” he said,
and with a twinkle in his eyes, he added: “But later, after the show, if you are single, would you like to go for a cup of coffee?”
So this is my Jail story.
Only the facts this time.
I have layers of stories hidden within this one which I may or may not share publicly - depending on my courage and moods.
It helps me to write this to you Mohammed.
Because I want you to know that I am as “earthy” as you.
Filled with pain and memories and wisdom to share.
In the words you used to end your note.
You said:
“I'm waiting for your comments on my personality as represented by the poet Davies in this poem.
Bye Dear Tali.
By the way dear,
Do you know what your name " Tali " means in Arabic?
It means " The Next"
Whereas my own name in Arabic means "Helper"
So why don't we, I & you join our two names in a new compound name To mean : "The Next Helper " !
Do you think it will work dear Tali?”
Yes, Mohammed!
I think it WILL work.
