Everyone Has a Toy Story

Toys. Why are they such a big deal? Maybe it’s because toys are the first inanimate objects to which we attach emotions?

Some scholars suggest that humanity’s evolution mirrors the developmental stages children go through. If that’s true, perhaps our early affinity for toys parallels the worship of statues and figurines that our ancestors engaged in during the primitive stages of evolution. New archaeological evidence suggests that civilization developed after humanity began worshipping monumental rock portals. Who knows—perhaps the toys we adore help us become civilized, serving as the first lifeless objects with which we practice compassion and social skills.

My toy story unfolded during a total lunar eclipse while I was in Hong Kong. I knew from my chart that the eclipse would hit my “House of Home and Family,” which didn’t seem relevant as I was 16 hours away from home. I was also aware that lunar eclipses tend to unearth deep emotions, but what I failed to notice was that the eclipse was occurring in Sagittarius, the sign of the Centaur—a mythological creature, part horse, part man. Sagittarius is also the sign of travel, teaching, and truth.

I visited Hong Kong to teach at the Asia Yoga Conference, and the organizers housed me in a magnificent apartment building called Shama, located at 26 Peel Street. To my amusement, the cross street was Hollywood Road. I pay attention to symbols—after all, I make my living interpreting them. I have no idea if “Shama” means anything in the many languages spoken in Hong Kong, but in Hebrew, it translates to “listen!” With this in mind, I decided to keep my third ear open and listen to the messages coming my way. The fact that the building’s address was 26 made me raise an eyebrow. I grew up at 26 Freud Street, and in Kabbalah, 26 is the value of the Tetragrammaton, the four-letter name of God associated with wisdom.

Since I live in Los Angeles, where I can see the Hollywood sign from my living room, it seemed extra amusing to me that the only way to get to my apartment in Hong Kong was through Hollywood Road. Was I supposed to move to Hong Kong?

Astrologers assert that an eclipse’s influence is more pronounced in places where it is visible. Indeed, the Sagittarius total lunar eclipse was visible in Hong Kong and triggered deep emotions and memories—not only in me but also in many people around. I was curious to see how the moon would speak to me, what memories she would conjure, and what poems her lunacy would compose for me. Looking back, I can say she gave me an unexpected gift.

On the day of the eclipse, as I walked up Hollywood Road to grab a taxi, something made me look to the right. Through the window of a thrift shop, I saw an object that made me stop and caused a chemical reaction in my body, bringing me to tears. At first, I was disoriented and confused. How did he get here? To Hong Kong? Shivers ran up and down my spine as neurons storing memories from four decades ago suddenly fired, resurrecting long-lost recollections.

Hollywood, SoHo Hong Kong

Could it really be him? My horse? My favorite toy? My first “real” friend, a gift my beloved grandfather gave me for my third birthday when we lived in Canada, just before he passed away a few months later? The main image of the blog is me riding my horsey in Canada, 1971.

My horesy in his stables

Yes, it was. The horse that influenced my pursuit of gymnastics, eventually making the pommel horse my favorite apparatus. The horse that inspired me to work as a cowboy on a kibbutz. It was him—my horse that is no longer mine—staring at me through the glass with his expressive, inanimate yet magically alive eyes.

At first, all I felt was pain—an unexpected gut punch. It spread through my body, and I was overwhelmed by a deep core ache for a long-lost friend. But soon, I gathered myself and realized that while the physical toy had been abandoned, his spirit remained within me, shaping me in his own way.

I looked at him, still majestic after all these years. They don’t make toys like this anymore. But how would I know? at that time I was 43 and haven’t had a toy in a while. It’s never about the toy itself anyway—it’s about the girl or boy who plays with it, the stories they create around the object that bring it to life.

I walked into the shop and asked the owner if I could take a picture with my horse. All rights reserved to her photography skills; the picture is below. I don’t think I wanted to buy him back, as I don’t have children yet, and I thought I had already had him once—someone else should make memories with him now.

But I was curious, so I asked the kind lady how much the “holy relic” cost. She took the horse back and placed it in the window. “3,600 Hong Kong dollars,” she said ($470 USD). “What?! I could buy a real horse for that price,” I replied. The number 36 is associated with saints in Kabbalah, but I was more concerned with the two zeros that followed. “Rare vintage toy from Canada, very important,” she added, confirming the toy’s origin and birthplace. I looked into its eyes—those big, expressive eyes. Whoever designed this toy knew the trick: make the eyes big, and everyone will fall for it. OK, Moon, I get it now. Horse, Sagittarius, home, and family.

At the Thrift Store Hong Kong

I bid my horse—who was never really mine—goodbye. Who knows? Maybe he’ll still be there next year when I return for the Yoga Conference in 2012. Maybe by then, I’ll have a child, and it will be time to reunite with my friend. But what I learned from this eclipse is that forgotten aspects of who we are can surface at any time, in any place, and that the objects we invest with our emotions can reconnect us to who we are by reminding us of who we were.

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