I have been gone from my home for nine months. I think to myself, what is home and I no longer have an answer to this question. Tom Waits once said, "Wherever, I lay my head is home" which has a drifter connotation. But in the truest sense, I am my own home, as I carry my internal sense of peace and security.
This is an ending of sorts. But life has many endings.
This is also a beginning. Life has many beginnings. I once was a seed and I planted myself deep in the soil of Israel. But the ground must be ready to receive you. I struggled and I grew, but so slowly. My tendrils unfurled, cautiously now; fearing that they would not receive either the sun or the rain that they would need to grow.
So I transplanted myself in Thailand, to challenge myself even more. There was too much sun and my tendrils withered. There was too little water and my roots shrank. I shook all growth from my body, in order to sustain myself. Like an Israeli transplant, I sought protection with thorns. I grew strong in harsh conditions. However, when the rains came at last, I was ready to receive them. The frogs gathered around to rejoice, and sing throughout the night to herald the first rain.
I was a seed and I went to plant myself, to see what fruits I would bear. Let us not name the fruit; let us not dissect it, for it quality and taste. Let us not discuss its value. It is not about the yield; it is about the path.
Life has many endings. I was a seed, but I have grown. I was a seed which grew into a tree, which bore fruits and these fruits fell to the ground. So that the ground will remember it.
Life has many beginnings. I am a seed. I will plant myself, perhaps in Boston. Wherever I lay my head is home. May the soil be ready to receive me.
Thursday, 20 May 2010
Thursday, 13 May 2010
Playing in Pai
It was 40 degrees celsius in the shade. The heat was so powerful it drove most of the country inside. Except for me. I was volunteering on a permaculture site, called Panya Project in the north of Thailand. For more than a month, it was a happy home for me. If you are interested in intentional communities, mud building, mud ovens, nurseries and fruit forests, it might be a happy home for you as well.
However, at this moment in time, I was roasting despite the cover of mango trees and there were not enough coconut shakes to cool me down. I sought relief in a renowned artist community called Pai.
This was to be my last adventure in Thailand and I was rapidly running out of funds. The farm is near Mamelay Market, in Mae-Tang. From Mamelay Market, one can take an air-conditioned bus for 150 baht. I decided to put my complete trust in Thai people, and their hospitality. Instead, I hitchhiked to Pai. Thailand is filled with two types of vehicles: motorbikes and flat bed trucks. My first consisted of a Thai family, who picked me up and let me jump in their trunk. They dropped me off at a bus station near a fruit stand. I waited twenty minutes or more, in the noon sun while a mild panic arose with in me. I watched many buses pass by me, but I was determined to test my ability to hitchhike on my own. Eventually, I was picked up by a car with two men, I hesitated once I stepped inside. Despite, our language limitations, they were beyond friendly to me, as we made our treacherous way up to Pai.
The rode to Pai is not for those with fear in their heart. It winds and curves, and there is competition between the two lanes. I held my breath with each passing truck. After two hours, my ride dropped me off in the center of town. I did not feel picky about where to stay, so I walked to the first guest house, Duang on the main road. The guest house was plain but cheap. My room was 100 baht per night, which fit my budget exactly.
I had arrived in Pai, after Songkran which is the Water Festival or New Year. The town had an empty feeling, like a revelry after all the guests have gone and left their mess behind. I walked about the small village, hidden in the mountainside during the middle of the day. I discovered, I had not flown from the heat but walked directly back into it. The paved road, and lack of trees in the center of town is not welcoming for a mid day stroll.
For a brief moment, I was worried that Pai might be another tourist town. While it was surrounded by lushness, there were the usual clothing, jewelry and other miscellaneous Thai goods, that can be found throughout the country. I had also overhead unsettling exchange between two Westerners. Upon meeting each other, one exclaimed to the other, "Wait, didn't we meet each other in Kao San Ro," which is another tourist street in Bangkok. I was worried that all us Westerners were simply following each other all over Thailand, without really interacting with the country. I retired to my guesthouse, to improve my outlook and wait out the heat.
Around sunset, I re-emerged from my guest house and watched from a rickety bridge as the sun descended over the river. On the bridge, I met a lovely woman from Chile. We struck an immediate friendship and together we explored all that Pai has to offer.
That night, we dined on twenty baht pad Thai noodles on the side of the road. And later still, we enjoyed some Thai beer, while sharing stories. Later still, I left my new friend to explore bars on my own. I fell in with a group of Israelis boys, fresh out of the army and bent on exploring the East. One of them taught me how to drive a automatic bike and for this I am forever grateful.
Pai confirmed for me something that I have suspected for a long time. It is not wise to visit waterfalls in Thailand during the dry seasons. You will only end up seeing trickle falls at best, and dry rock beds at worst. Together, my Chilean friend and I rented a manual motorbike, luckily I had learned to drive it the night before, and we rode up and down those dangerously winding roads. The beautiful view of the country side still made it worth the while.
At night time, we sought out the many bars, hoping for some good music. We stumbled across too many empty bars, playing reggae music, even though their flyers had promised live jams. I went to the Bee Bop club two nights in a row, to hear a seven player blues and reggae ensemble. On my last night, we visited the Edible Jazz, where we met a variety of locals and traveling westerners. The atmosphere was so friendly that it made me want to spend just one more night in Pai.
Alas, it was not to be. I took a non air-conditioned bus ride back to the Mamelay Market, which I do not recommend. From there I hitchhiked back to the farm…But that is another story altogether.
However, at this moment in time, I was roasting despite the cover of mango trees and there were not enough coconut shakes to cool me down. I sought relief in a renowned artist community called Pai.
This was to be my last adventure in Thailand and I was rapidly running out of funds. The farm is near Mamelay Market, in Mae-Tang. From Mamelay Market, one can take an air-conditioned bus for 150 baht. I decided to put my complete trust in Thai people, and their hospitality. Instead, I hitchhiked to Pai. Thailand is filled with two types of vehicles: motorbikes and flat bed trucks. My first consisted of a Thai family, who picked me up and let me jump in their trunk. They dropped me off at a bus station near a fruit stand. I waited twenty minutes or more, in the noon sun while a mild panic arose with in me. I watched many buses pass by me, but I was determined to test my ability to hitchhike on my own. Eventually, I was picked up by a car with two men, I hesitated once I stepped inside. Despite, our language limitations, they were beyond friendly to me, as we made our treacherous way up to Pai.
The rode to Pai is not for those with fear in their heart. It winds and curves, and there is competition between the two lanes. I held my breath with each passing truck. After two hours, my ride dropped me off in the center of town. I did not feel picky about where to stay, so I walked to the first guest house, Duang on the main road. The guest house was plain but cheap. My room was 100 baht per night, which fit my budget exactly.
I had arrived in Pai, after Songkran which is the Water Festival or New Year. The town had an empty feeling, like a revelry after all the guests have gone and left their mess behind. I walked about the small village, hidden in the mountainside during the middle of the day. I discovered, I had not flown from the heat but walked directly back into it. The paved road, and lack of trees in the center of town is not welcoming for a mid day stroll.
For a brief moment, I was worried that Pai might be another tourist town. While it was surrounded by lushness, there were the usual clothing, jewelry and other miscellaneous Thai goods, that can be found throughout the country. I had also overhead unsettling exchange between two Westerners. Upon meeting each other, one exclaimed to the other, "Wait, didn't we meet each other in Kao San Ro," which is another tourist street in Bangkok. I was worried that all us Westerners were simply following each other all over Thailand, without really interacting with the country. I retired to my guesthouse, to improve my outlook and wait out the heat.
Around sunset, I re-emerged from my guest house and watched from a rickety bridge as the sun descended over the river. On the bridge, I met a lovely woman from Chile. We struck an immediate friendship and together we explored all that Pai has to offer.
That night, we dined on twenty baht pad Thai noodles on the side of the road. And later still, we enjoyed some Thai beer, while sharing stories. Later still, I left my new friend to explore bars on my own. I fell in with a group of Israelis boys, fresh out of the army and bent on exploring the East. One of them taught me how to drive a automatic bike and for this I am forever grateful.
Pai confirmed for me something that I have suspected for a long time. It is not wise to visit waterfalls in Thailand during the dry seasons. You will only end up seeing trickle falls at best, and dry rock beds at worst. Together, my Chilean friend and I rented a manual motorbike, luckily I had learned to drive it the night before, and we rode up and down those dangerously winding roads. The beautiful view of the country side still made it worth the while.
At night time, we sought out the many bars, hoping for some good music. We stumbled across too many empty bars, playing reggae music, even though their flyers had promised live jams. I went to the Bee Bop club two nights in a row, to hear a seven player blues and reggae ensemble. On my last night, we visited the Edible Jazz, where we met a variety of locals and traveling westerners. The atmosphere was so friendly that it made me want to spend just one more night in Pai.
Alas, it was not to be. I took a non air-conditioned bus ride back to the Mamelay Market, which I do not recommend. From there I hitchhiked back to the farm…But that is another story altogether.
Monday, 5 April 2010
Scenes of Love
There is so much love, spilling out of every corner of my life and my memory bank. I would like to share them with you as a show of gratitude. It could be endless..so let me say I have just begun...
*Rachel giving me a reiki lesson on her balcony, during a rain storm only an hour before she leaves for Vietnam and she is not done packing. She is in the moment and she offers herself completely.
*Sabrina cooking me an all vegan breakfast banquet the morning before my departure. She is not vegan, neither is John. There is a pure offering of food out of love for me. It was my last meal in Boston.
*Jumping up and down with a small thai girl in a bookstore in Bangkok. We chase each other around corners and play peekaboo around chairs. When I leave, she becomes sad. She is sad because this moment is over and we cannot return to it. I have been there. I say to her, "Only happiness." For now, we have had the moment.
*Carola giving me a ride to the ferry in between her workshop hours. She gets a flat tire, yet still she rests with me for a while, waiting on the dock. Patiently.
*Anna playing on her violin, flowing with the music, playing a song about carrots. She is inspired by carrots! I am inspired by her.
*Angela riding with me on the back of my bike to the waterfall that wasn't and the wat, or temple that had not begun. We sing Janis Joplin and the Little Mermaid intermingling the two.
*Arbel, anywhere, anytime on the farm playing his flute.
*My ex-boyfriend's family treating me like family. I thank his aunt for all this love. She answers me "You are family." Yes, I am loved.
*Four small boys interlocking their arms, sharing secrets. They are too young to be worried about appearances, personal space or being macho.
*Jody throwing Adriana into the water to teach her how to swim. Adriana is only five years old and so small. I worry that she will drown, but Jody knows how to show her how to swim. Fear is not the way, thus she waits for her lovingly each time she throws her into the waves and waits for her to re-emerge. The love is knowing she will return, that Adriana knows this too.
*Cooking in the kitchen with Israeli volunteers, making them dance to oldies music and teaching them the real meaning of the lyrics. Being inspired by them, their stories, being inspired by seasonal foods, finding a way to putting houbeza into everything.
*Learning so many different ways to make tahina. Can you add the following: dijon mustard, chocolate, advocado, soy sauce, gigner, garam malasa. The answer is always yes. Maybe not at the same time. These are lessons for you to learn though.
*My ex-boyfriend's father doing his glida dance. His wriggle of delight in a restaurant chair, as he orders his forbidden desserts. "Yesh glida?" he asks the waitress, as he wriggles with anticipation. His absolute joy in the moment.
*My ex-boyfriend's mother packing me three sandwiches for my flight to Thailand. She asks me which bread do I prefer: Whole wheat or a bagel? My eyes glaze over with the word bagel. Yes, I nod. Bagel please. She purses lips, and frowns no. Lama lo? "I cannot give you enough vegetables with a bagel sandwich." She declares. Shes does not understand my laughter.
*My father upon hearing that I was going to Thailand, exclaimed "Think of all the Thai food that you will eat." There is no worry, no note of concern in his voice. Instead, he comes from a place of knowing that I will be okay.
*Melissa, an expert in love. Giving me rides, taking care of my fat cat, my objects, my possessions until I return. Offering me nightly, a never ending smile and her beloved hummus and crackers.
*Julie constantly offering me food, her leftovers. My husband is not hungry she claims, while giving me full bags of fresh vegetables.
*Abe and Andrew playing chess anywhere, anytime on the farm. They are determined, so committed, so absorbed by the game. I can see them as two old men, never growing old of this game or their friendship. Their chess playing is beautiful to me, as an extension of their love, their friendship.
*Planting row upon row of seedlings with Tayla and Leila. Talking about love and sex, and everything in between. So much laughter in those moments. Thank you.
*Lice-combings with an individual who shall remain unmentioned. Despite all her fear, offering to comb out my long and weedy locks. It was a lovely spa night and olive oil is so good for your hair.
*May Kadee sharing her bed with me, when I arrive in Bangkok at five in the morning, and she does not have a room for me. Instead she offers me her bedroom, her bed to a stranger.
*Marissa making all my juices when I was sick. Giving me pills, writing down times and amounts, endlessly, patiently. Reading to me in bed, as my fever wains.
*Robin...lending me her car. If only her parents knew! So much trust for a new driver. Trying to charm my driving instructor, when she was instructed to be silent.
*Robin driving to JP, on cold and wintery nights, in order to sit next to silently for hours grading papers while I type out papers ignoring her.
*Ei's smile is pure love. If you knew him, you would know this to be true.
*Abe expertly running all our farm Shabbat dinners. So efficiently, without getting stressed, making his own dishes that he learned from his mother, helping others with their dishes.
*Tremping across Israel. Strangers offering rides to strangers, as mitzvahs, as good deed. Driving out of their way to help, offering suggestions on how to get where you are going. Or simply not talking at all. But the offer remains the same.
*Taking 2 bus rides, 2 plan rides, 1 angry cab, 1 twelve hour overnight bus and 1 four hour ferry to meet your love.
* Taking 1 five hour ferry, 1 twelve hour overnight bus, 1 tuk tuk, 1 motorbike ride to another twelve hour overnight bus, 1 two hour hot and packed truck ride through Thai mountains to meet myself on a farm.
*There is more. There is always more love...
*Rachel giving me a reiki lesson on her balcony, during a rain storm only an hour before she leaves for Vietnam and she is not done packing. She is in the moment and she offers herself completely.
*Sabrina cooking me an all vegan breakfast banquet the morning before my departure. She is not vegan, neither is John. There is a pure offering of food out of love for me. It was my last meal in Boston.
*Jumping up and down with a small thai girl in a bookstore in Bangkok. We chase each other around corners and play peekaboo around chairs. When I leave, she becomes sad. She is sad because this moment is over and we cannot return to it. I have been there. I say to her, "Only happiness." For now, we have had the moment.
*Carola giving me a ride to the ferry in between her workshop hours. She gets a flat tire, yet still she rests with me for a while, waiting on the dock. Patiently.
*Anna playing on her violin, flowing with the music, playing a song about carrots. She is inspired by carrots! I am inspired by her.
*Angela riding with me on the back of my bike to the waterfall that wasn't and the wat, or temple that had not begun. We sing Janis Joplin and the Little Mermaid intermingling the two.
*Arbel, anywhere, anytime on the farm playing his flute.
*My ex-boyfriend's family treating me like family. I thank his aunt for all this love. She answers me "You are family." Yes, I am loved.
*Four small boys interlocking their arms, sharing secrets. They are too young to be worried about appearances, personal space or being macho.
*Jody throwing Adriana into the water to teach her how to swim. Adriana is only five years old and so small. I worry that she will drown, but Jody knows how to show her how to swim. Fear is not the way, thus she waits for her lovingly each time she throws her into the waves and waits for her to re-emerge. The love is knowing she will return, that Adriana knows this too.
*Cooking in the kitchen with Israeli volunteers, making them dance to oldies music and teaching them the real meaning of the lyrics. Being inspired by them, their stories, being inspired by seasonal foods, finding a way to putting houbeza into everything.
*Learning so many different ways to make tahina. Can you add the following: dijon mustard, chocolate, advocado, soy sauce, gigner, garam malasa. The answer is always yes. Maybe not at the same time. These are lessons for you to learn though.
*My ex-boyfriend's father doing his glida dance. His wriggle of delight in a restaurant chair, as he orders his forbidden desserts. "Yesh glida?" he asks the waitress, as he wriggles with anticipation. His absolute joy in the moment.
*My ex-boyfriend's mother packing me three sandwiches for my flight to Thailand. She asks me which bread do I prefer: Whole wheat or a bagel? My eyes glaze over with the word bagel. Yes, I nod. Bagel please. She purses lips, and frowns no. Lama lo? "I cannot give you enough vegetables with a bagel sandwich." She declares. Shes does not understand my laughter.
*My father upon hearing that I was going to Thailand, exclaimed "Think of all the Thai food that you will eat." There is no worry, no note of concern in his voice. Instead, he comes from a place of knowing that I will be okay.
*Melissa, an expert in love. Giving me rides, taking care of my fat cat, my objects, my possessions until I return. Offering me nightly, a never ending smile and her beloved hummus and crackers.
*Julie constantly offering me food, her leftovers. My husband is not hungry she claims, while giving me full bags of fresh vegetables.
*Abe and Andrew playing chess anywhere, anytime on the farm. They are determined, so committed, so absorbed by the game. I can see them as two old men, never growing old of this game or their friendship. Their chess playing is beautiful to me, as an extension of their love, their friendship.
*Planting row upon row of seedlings with Tayla and Leila. Talking about love and sex, and everything in between. So much laughter in those moments. Thank you.
*Lice-combings with an individual who shall remain unmentioned. Despite all her fear, offering to comb out my long and weedy locks. It was a lovely spa night and olive oil is so good for your hair.
*May Kadee sharing her bed with me, when I arrive in Bangkok at five in the morning, and she does not have a room for me. Instead she offers me her bedroom, her bed to a stranger.
*Marissa making all my juices when I was sick. Giving me pills, writing down times and amounts, endlessly, patiently. Reading to me in bed, as my fever wains.
*Robin...lending me her car. If only her parents knew! So much trust for a new driver. Trying to charm my driving instructor, when she was instructed to be silent.
*Robin driving to JP, on cold and wintery nights, in order to sit next to silently for hours grading papers while I type out papers ignoring her.
*Ei's smile is pure love. If you knew him, you would know this to be true.
*Abe expertly running all our farm Shabbat dinners. So efficiently, without getting stressed, making his own dishes that he learned from his mother, helping others with their dishes.
*Tremping across Israel. Strangers offering rides to strangers, as mitzvahs, as good deed. Driving out of their way to help, offering suggestions on how to get where you are going. Or simply not talking at all. But the offer remains the same.
*Taking 2 bus rides, 2 plan rides, 1 angry cab, 1 twelve hour overnight bus and 1 four hour ferry to meet your love.
* Taking 1 five hour ferry, 1 twelve hour overnight bus, 1 tuk tuk, 1 motorbike ride to another twelve hour overnight bus, 1 two hour hot and packed truck ride through Thai mountains to meet myself on a farm.
*There is more. There is always more love...
The Nature of Love
We are now entering into the second phase of my journey, which we can call :Jew in Thailand or more accurately Falling Down the Rabbit Hole. How I arrived in Thailand, and the many adventures that I have had since February I would love to share with you. But I am in the now of this moment. And this moment is beautiful and it will not last. So let me share what I have learned thus far, since leaving the safety and security of my world in Boston...
"What is love?" my friend asks me as we are walking along a dirt road at night. I cannot answer her fully. I only know what it is to be in love, I offer her, the common symptoms of tingling and excitement. We both know that love is more than the smallness of these emotions and yet with all our intellect, we cannot puzzle it out. We have no words for it.
Since this night, many words, or definitions have been offered to me about the nature of love. My former lover, suggested that love is a state of being. I shared this with my friend, delighted to have a simple answer to such a complicated question. I chew on this concept for days. Until I can answer, yes, I am in a loving state of being with Israel, with barren hilltops, with the farm, with my basil plants, with my lover. Yet, still there is a disconnect, a gap from love.
Still I search. I walk many nights, along many dirt paths. Love is fleeting. It is not a constant state of being. Months pass. I am in a hall listening to a lecture given by a Swami about Detachment. I learn that people are not objects, we do not own them. I listen to this teacher describe Unconditional Love. This is a love without wants and needs. In this way, one can be hurt, disapointed and angry, since our expectations are not met. But there is still love. Love flows always, and if we perceive it to end, it was not love. Only an illusion of wants and needs. This is the fleeting aspect.
Weeks pass, and now I am hurt, disapointed and angry. There is a moment, so large which clouds out everything and I am detached from all love. This is a passing cloud. There are other moments, small at first, but increasing. In these moments fo clarity, I remain absolutely still and I understand, truly understand the nature of love.
Let me share with you now, which I know to be the nature of love. I have found that I am love. I am part of the whole and the whole is love. Love is not connected to a single partner, which lets one into a state of love. One always choose to be in a state of love, if one lets the clouds pass. Thus one enters into a state of grace, a state of being with the universe which is loving and accepting.
I could not have answered from friend's question, at the beginning of the path, with the words I had then. The words I had then were restricting, contracting, hoarding. Before, I measured love into cups marked more and less, yours and mine.
But now, in a state of grace, memories from my former life flow over me. Like a movie screen, before my eyes, are filled with all the guestures of love that I have been shown. The heart feels full, but I know there is so much more to offer and receive. I will share these with you in my next posting.
"What is love?" my friend asks me as we are walking along a dirt road at night. I cannot answer her fully. I only know what it is to be in love, I offer her, the common symptoms of tingling and excitement. We both know that love is more than the smallness of these emotions and yet with all our intellect, we cannot puzzle it out. We have no words for it.
Since this night, many words, or definitions have been offered to me about the nature of love. My former lover, suggested that love is a state of being. I shared this with my friend, delighted to have a simple answer to such a complicated question. I chew on this concept for days. Until I can answer, yes, I am in a loving state of being with Israel, with barren hilltops, with the farm, with my basil plants, with my lover. Yet, still there is a disconnect, a gap from love.
Still I search. I walk many nights, along many dirt paths. Love is fleeting. It is not a constant state of being. Months pass. I am in a hall listening to a lecture given by a Swami about Detachment. I learn that people are not objects, we do not own them. I listen to this teacher describe Unconditional Love. This is a love without wants and needs. In this way, one can be hurt, disapointed and angry, since our expectations are not met. But there is still love. Love flows always, and if we perceive it to end, it was not love. Only an illusion of wants and needs. This is the fleeting aspect.
Weeks pass, and now I am hurt, disapointed and angry. There is a moment, so large which clouds out everything and I am detached from all love. This is a passing cloud. There are other moments, small at first, but increasing. In these moments fo clarity, I remain absolutely still and I understand, truly understand the nature of love.
Let me share with you now, which I know to be the nature of love. I have found that I am love. I am part of the whole and the whole is love. Love is not connected to a single partner, which lets one into a state of love. One always choose to be in a state of love, if one lets the clouds pass. Thus one enters into a state of grace, a state of being with the universe which is loving and accepting.
I could not have answered from friend's question, at the beginning of the path, with the words I had then. The words I had then were restricting, contracting, hoarding. Before, I measured love into cups marked more and less, yours and mine.
But now, in a state of grace, memories from my former life flow over me. Like a movie screen, before my eyes, are filled with all the guestures of love that I have been shown. The heart feels full, but I know there is so much more to offer and receive. I will share these with you in my next posting.
Friday, 29 January 2010
The End of Eco and the Beginning of Myself
Dear Friends (and followers)
I am at the very intersection of edge. The very point of discomfort, growth and ultimate change. There are so many experiences, I did not yet manage to record in this space. Some are in my journal and some are only in my heart waiting to be released on my paper. I wish to share with my you the many lessons I learned on the farm and on the road. But now is not the time.
There were nine of us. Nine different people joined together in one group, filled with both love and conflict. Now I am to bear witness, as they leave me one by one. Most of their journeys here on the farm are over, while mine is being directed towards a new and uncharted course.
Last night, eight of us crawled into a cave. We lit candles upon our descent and when the moment was right we blew out our candles, held hands and simply sat with our energies. Eight bodies, eight breaths, but with one spirit, one dynamic flowing body of energy that we have created. Something from nothing. This is what Israel has taught me. How to be my own designer, create my own path, how to open my heart to love and return all the love that I have stored there.
I tell you now, my prayer, in the Western Wall. I am not sure if this is proper, but it is important for me, since it manifested in many ways. I wrote "Let me open my heart to Israel." My heart has opened to Israel and in Israel. And I feel everything now. I feel joy at remembering hiking from the base of the ocean in Haifa to the top of the university. I feel immense sadness at my interactions with Arab children in the Old City, when I was shot at symbolically three times in one day. I felt awe in the stillness of the Negev desert, where I was surrounded by stars, only stars. No sounds. Then I felt fear at the immensity of the universe the endless possibilities.
I have learned this lesson before, opening my heart. It means you feel everything more. I have fallen in love with Israel, the people, their direct character and their amazing hospitality. I have also fallen in love in Israel, and I have learned to release this love.
The story of the Jews of Domeville is ending. We are disbanding one by one. Leaving in cabs in the middle of night, leaving in pairs, or some are staying behind. I will be nesting here, giving the farm my love for two more weeks. I want create and nurture this space for the next group of Ecos, who will also create their own group energy from nothing.
I will write more, mostly from memory. There will be new stories, new farms, and new loves and I will share these in another format. A new name.
Love,
Danielle
I am at the very intersection of edge. The very point of discomfort, growth and ultimate change. There are so many experiences, I did not yet manage to record in this space. Some are in my journal and some are only in my heart waiting to be released on my paper. I wish to share with my you the many lessons I learned on the farm and on the road. But now is not the time.
There were nine of us. Nine different people joined together in one group, filled with both love and conflict. Now I am to bear witness, as they leave me one by one. Most of their journeys here on the farm are over, while mine is being directed towards a new and uncharted course.
Last night, eight of us crawled into a cave. We lit candles upon our descent and when the moment was right we blew out our candles, held hands and simply sat with our energies. Eight bodies, eight breaths, but with one spirit, one dynamic flowing body of energy that we have created. Something from nothing. This is what Israel has taught me. How to be my own designer, create my own path, how to open my heart to love and return all the love that I have stored there.
I tell you now, my prayer, in the Western Wall. I am not sure if this is proper, but it is important for me, since it manifested in many ways. I wrote "Let me open my heart to Israel." My heart has opened to Israel and in Israel. And I feel everything now. I feel joy at remembering hiking from the base of the ocean in Haifa to the top of the university. I feel immense sadness at my interactions with Arab children in the Old City, when I was shot at symbolically three times in one day. I felt awe in the stillness of the Negev desert, where I was surrounded by stars, only stars. No sounds. Then I felt fear at the immensity of the universe the endless possibilities.
I have learned this lesson before, opening my heart. It means you feel everything more. I have fallen in love with Israel, the people, their direct character and their amazing hospitality. I have also fallen in love in Israel, and I have learned to release this love.
The story of the Jews of Domeville is ending. We are disbanding one by one. Leaving in cabs in the middle of night, leaving in pairs, or some are staying behind. I will be nesting here, giving the farm my love for two more weeks. I want create and nurture this space for the next group of Ecos, who will also create their own group energy from nothing.
I will write more, mostly from memory. There will be new stories, new farms, and new loves and I will share these in another format. A new name.
Love,
Danielle
Wednesday, 9 December 2009
First Field Trip: My Love Affair with Mud Begins
October 20th, 2009
I am writing in my journal with reggae music playing the background. Our group is relaxing in a large common room. We are all impressed with the beauty of this space, especially after camping for the past three nights. Each window is unique, all the glasses are different shapes and sizes. Some are surrounded mosiacs. Later I learn that the windows were found first, and the holes were then created to mold to the frames. (So permaculture). There is a beautiful kitchen bar, which is made out of mud and there are entire rows of matching colored bottles. Inside the kitchen, dinner is being prepared by two of our group members. It feels like home, and we are nesting. We are at Yesh Mayin. Something that was created out of nothing.
On the first day of the filed trip, we inevitably got a late start and then spent many sleepy hours on a rented bus. We lunched at Nimrod Fortress and then we wandered around the complex for two hours. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, Uncle Avvie carried around an egg the entire day in his hand. I think he wanted to see if it was hot enough to cook an egg. This is my most prominent memory. It was a hot day (how I miss them) as we hiked down a spiky terrain in order to see the Banias. The terrain was hard for me to navigate and sadly I was the slowest of the group to me make my way down. Yes, I was returning to the Banias, with some hesitation in my heart. It had been such a strong private connection to the land that I did not want to share it with the group energy, which can be overwhelming at times.
We reached the Banias Springs quite late. Uncle Avvie promptly dropped his egg, which caused some of the group members to blame Pan. For we were now at Pan's Grotto, and perhaps he has a great disdain for eggs or for fools who carry them around all day. We explored the site quickly, not lingering at each remaining monument, as I had done only a week or so before. We arrived too late to hike to the other side where the Falls lie. Instead, we grumbled a bit, although I was mostly relieved and then clambored aboard the bus to Kibbutz Tsivon, near Klil (sp?) where we would be camping for the next few nights.
In the morning, I woke early with my commrade the infamous Ben Bokser, who is reknowned through New York and Israel. It was my first time cooking over a camp fire and I was nervous. In addition, I was now cooking for ten or more people. Things were tricky to say the least. I started the fire, which was no easy feat. Some members of the group scrambled for more wood to keep the flames going. Breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs, pan-fried taters, and an Israeli salad, which turned out to be tayim meod. I was quite proud of myself.
After breakfast, we hiked the Yehudiya Waterfall trail. First, we saw a destroyed Syrian village, which was built in the 3rd century and destroyed in this century. Israel never fails to remind me of humanity's capacity to create and then destroy.
We hiked for two hours before we reached a large waterfal. The water was briskly cold but we dived in anyway.As a group, we swam over to where the the two waters met. It was a great moment of peace and cleansing.
We had lunch while the boys splashed in the water trying to catch fish. The women of the group dried off on rocks and were amused by the boys' antics. Who knew there were so a variety of unsuccessful methods to catch fish, Avvie tried to spear them, Nadav threw rocks in the water, while two of the boys captured a small one in their shirt.
And now onto to something completely different. I have a confession. I have fallen, deeply, madly, passionately in love with mud. It was so unexpected and it happened so fast. At Kibbutz Tsivon, on our last day, we were shown how to make mud or cobb to insulate a communual building. There are various ways, however this method included clay, sand and straw and of course water. We mixed all the ingredients on a large tarp, and stomped on them until they were mixed. It reminded me of wine making, and just as intoxicating. From them mud, E. and I created a mud goddess in between two beams. It was an immenseley satisfying moment for me. I had created something, from nothing, with my hands.
This something from nothing, was how Yesh Mayin (sp??) was founded. There is a MOshav in Nahalal, where one young woman was inspired to turn her family's defunct farm into a permaculture space (building, learning, experimenting). More mud buildings, the love affair grew. From an old warehouse hangar, she created, with the help of many friends and strangers a beautiful salon. It is from this space that I write, that I rest, that I watch my friends in the candlenight laugh and enjoy dinner. Something from nothing is the essence of permaculture, nothing is wasted, everything is used. All the resources you need existed already in your community, in you space. It is also a very Israeli mentality, the image of the country that was built on a desert, which remains true on many levels.
I am writing in my journal with reggae music playing the background. Our group is relaxing in a large common room. We are all impressed with the beauty of this space, especially after camping for the past three nights. Each window is unique, all the glasses are different shapes and sizes. Some are surrounded mosiacs. Later I learn that the windows were found first, and the holes were then created to mold to the frames. (So permaculture). There is a beautiful kitchen bar, which is made out of mud and there are entire rows of matching colored bottles. Inside the kitchen, dinner is being prepared by two of our group members. It feels like home, and we are nesting. We are at Yesh Mayin. Something that was created out of nothing.
On the first day of the filed trip, we inevitably got a late start and then spent many sleepy hours on a rented bus. We lunched at Nimrod Fortress and then we wandered around the complex for two hours. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, Uncle Avvie carried around an egg the entire day in his hand. I think he wanted to see if it was hot enough to cook an egg. This is my most prominent memory. It was a hot day (how I miss them) as we hiked down a spiky terrain in order to see the Banias. The terrain was hard for me to navigate and sadly I was the slowest of the group to me make my way down. Yes, I was returning to the Banias, with some hesitation in my heart. It had been such a strong private connection to the land that I did not want to share it with the group energy, which can be overwhelming at times.
We reached the Banias Springs quite late. Uncle Avvie promptly dropped his egg, which caused some of the group members to blame Pan. For we were now at Pan's Grotto, and perhaps he has a great disdain for eggs or for fools who carry them around all day. We explored the site quickly, not lingering at each remaining monument, as I had done only a week or so before. We arrived too late to hike to the other side where the Falls lie. Instead, we grumbled a bit, although I was mostly relieved and then clambored aboard the bus to Kibbutz Tsivon, near Klil (sp?) where we would be camping for the next few nights.
In the morning, I woke early with my commrade the infamous Ben Bokser, who is reknowned through New York and Israel. It was my first time cooking over a camp fire and I was nervous. In addition, I was now cooking for ten or more people. Things were tricky to say the least. I started the fire, which was no easy feat. Some members of the group scrambled for more wood to keep the flames going. Breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs, pan-fried taters, and an Israeli salad, which turned out to be tayim meod. I was quite proud of myself.
After breakfast, we hiked the Yehudiya Waterfall trail. First, we saw a destroyed Syrian village, which was built in the 3rd century and destroyed in this century. Israel never fails to remind me of humanity's capacity to create and then destroy.
We hiked for two hours before we reached a large waterfal. The water was briskly cold but we dived in anyway.As a group, we swam over to where the the two waters met. It was a great moment of peace and cleansing.
We had lunch while the boys splashed in the water trying to catch fish. The women of the group dried off on rocks and were amused by the boys' antics. Who knew there were so a variety of unsuccessful methods to catch fish, Avvie tried to spear them, Nadav threw rocks in the water, while two of the boys captured a small one in their shirt.
And now onto to something completely different. I have a confession. I have fallen, deeply, madly, passionately in love with mud. It was so unexpected and it happened so fast. At Kibbutz Tsivon, on our last day, we were shown how to make mud or cobb to insulate a communual building. There are various ways, however this method included clay, sand and straw and of course water. We mixed all the ingredients on a large tarp, and stomped on them until they were mixed. It reminded me of wine making, and just as intoxicating. From them mud, E. and I created a mud goddess in between two beams. It was an immenseley satisfying moment for me. I had created something, from nothing, with my hands.
This something from nothing, was how Yesh Mayin (sp??) was founded. There is a MOshav in Nahalal, where one young woman was inspired to turn her family's defunct farm into a permaculture space (building, learning, experimenting). More mud buildings, the love affair grew. From an old warehouse hangar, she created, with the help of many friends and strangers a beautiful salon. It is from this space that I write, that I rest, that I watch my friends in the candlenight laugh and enjoy dinner. Something from nothing is the essence of permaculture, nothing is wasted, everything is used. All the resources you need existed already in your community, in you space. It is also a very Israeli mentality, the image of the country that was built on a desert, which remains true on many levels.
Saturday, 7 November 2009
Haifa, Kinneret and Banias: My first taste of the North
I am far behind with my blog. However, I am committed to keeping the narrative flow of my adventures. So I must write about the beginning of October and the beginning of my experiences with the North of Israel.
Most of the Eco's journeyed to Haifa for the International Film Festival. It should go without saying that none of us saw a film during our stay in Haifa. We had a slow start, since we were overwhelmed with a myriad of choices during the week of Sukkot. There were festivals being held all over Israel: a Beer Festival in Jerusalem, Zorba the Buddha Festival in the Negev and a theater festival elsewhere. You get the idea. I had my heart set on Haifa, mostly due to my over romanticized notion of it, fostered by reading the Exodus. (Thanks Alicia). We arrived in Haifa around 6:00 p.m. on Wednesday. I desperately wanted to go to a hostel called Port Inn, near the Old German Colony and I had to fight the group who wanted to camp on the beach. The hostel was located at the end of a dark stretch of a street with no visible life. Once settled inside my room, my fellow roommate used the shower and flooded the entire room. Discouraged, I went downstairs and joined my fellow Eco's who had made friends with some Americans and a Swiss (International Spy?!) The backyard to the Port Inn is really quite enchanting and we bought cheap beers from the front desk and enjoyed the atmosphere and the company (betah). After a bit, we got restless and explored Ben Gurion street which was filled with mostly high-end restaurants. We settled on a bar across the street called Eli's which had an amazing blues singer. It was a singular moment of pure pleasure of just being. Surrounded by good friends and good music.
After the first night in Haifa, I became distracted. I ran into a friend. He invited me along for an adventure near the Kinneret. First, as a group, we went to the Bahai gardens in Haifa. I was mostly listening to the tour guide...It is a dedication to a martyr named Bab, or gate. Most of the above sentence is true. While the gardens were beautiful and lush, I felt oddly disconnected from them. They were too controlled, too planned, too damned geometric for my taste. But the view of the city was worth it all. Later, we separated and the two of us drove to Tiberias for dinner, yummy egpplant wrapped around cheese... and we camped on the beach of the Kinneret. I jumped into the Sea of Galilee, as the sun was setting and Tiberias winked golden lights at light from across the water. In short, my heart was full of beauty. Until a group of 20 Argentinian teenagers stomped into our section of the beach and with military efficiency set up 5 tents in 10 minutes. I spent a couple of anxious minutes worrying about their proximity, Would they keep us up all night with their noise? What the hell did they need a grocery cart for? How did they get it here? In the end, they were sweet kids who did not bother us at all.
The next day, after a morning dip in the Kinneret (all days should begin like this) We drove Northwards and settled on a hiking trail which promised waterfalls. We hiked up a mild trail, which was filled with more lush greenery then I had seen thus far in Israel. We stopped for a few hours, on the rooftop of an old Syrian bunker. Beneath us were happy families, some with dogs who were also resting. My attention was absorbed by a group of young boys who were making an elaborate lunch, complete with couscous. Just marveling at Israeli efficiency and wondering if these cooking/camping skills are something they learned from their military service. While we were engrossed in conversation, we were approached by a woman holding two small coffee cups. She offered them to us silently and then left. We were touched by this small gesture. After we leisurely enjoyed the coffee, I handed the cups back to the woman. I thanked her but I had to ask her why she choose to give us coffee. She said simply "We had extra coffee and you were in the best position to enjoy it." It is these small moments that touch me most in Israel.
We drove aimlessly for the rest of the day amongst the mountains in the Golan. We found many all-day hiking sites, unfortunately there were no sleeping camp sites. It was also not the best region to explore at night, we were hesitant to crash outside with so strong a military presence and so many signs, for grenades. We ended up resting at a more conventional family campground with not so lush gardens. In the morning we explored Banias Falls, and then walked for more than an hour to get to the Springs. The beauty of this area is impressive. The path between the Falls and Springs is covered with Figless Fig trees and a large variety of other water-loving plants. There were signs everywhere which forbade (asur, asur, asur!) people from bathing, or eating in the cold waters. Naturally, all along the path, legions of families frolicked with their lunches in the streams.
This day marks the begininng of a large moment for me. It was where my heart opened in Israel and to Israel. Meaning I was prepared to receive whatever lay ahead of me on my path. As of yet, I am still unsure of what this may bring me. But these are larger questions for another blog.
That night we slept again along the beach of the Kinneret. We feasted on gas station burekas, hummus, bread and wine. Really, these are the feast of the gods. We indulged in a late night swim and enjoyed the solitude. No gang of Argentian youth. No families. Just the golden lights of Tiberias winking across the waters. I was slightly late getting back to the farm the next day.......It was hard for me to return to my lovely and comfortable farm after this wonderful Northern adventure. The farm welcomed me back with open arms, as it always does.
Most of the Eco's journeyed to Haifa for the International Film Festival. It should go without saying that none of us saw a film during our stay in Haifa. We had a slow start, since we were overwhelmed with a myriad of choices during the week of Sukkot. There were festivals being held all over Israel: a Beer Festival in Jerusalem, Zorba the Buddha Festival in the Negev and a theater festival elsewhere. You get the idea. I had my heart set on Haifa, mostly due to my over romanticized notion of it, fostered by reading the Exodus. (Thanks Alicia). We arrived in Haifa around 6:00 p.m. on Wednesday. I desperately wanted to go to a hostel called Port Inn, near the Old German Colony and I had to fight the group who wanted to camp on the beach. The hostel was located at the end of a dark stretch of a street with no visible life. Once settled inside my room, my fellow roommate used the shower and flooded the entire room. Discouraged, I went downstairs and joined my fellow Eco's who had made friends with some Americans and a Swiss (International Spy?!) The backyard to the Port Inn is really quite enchanting and we bought cheap beers from the front desk and enjoyed the atmosphere and the company (betah). After a bit, we got restless and explored Ben Gurion street which was filled with mostly high-end restaurants. We settled on a bar across the street called Eli's which had an amazing blues singer. It was a singular moment of pure pleasure of just being. Surrounded by good friends and good music.
After the first night in Haifa, I became distracted. I ran into a friend. He invited me along for an adventure near the Kinneret. First, as a group, we went to the Bahai gardens in Haifa. I was mostly listening to the tour guide...It is a dedication to a martyr named Bab, or gate. Most of the above sentence is true. While the gardens were beautiful and lush, I felt oddly disconnected from them. They were too controlled, too planned, too damned geometric for my taste. But the view of the city was worth it all. Later, we separated and the two of us drove to Tiberias for dinner, yummy egpplant wrapped around cheese... and we camped on the beach of the Kinneret. I jumped into the Sea of Galilee, as the sun was setting and Tiberias winked golden lights at light from across the water. In short, my heart was full of beauty. Until a group of 20 Argentinian teenagers stomped into our section of the beach and with military efficiency set up 5 tents in 10 minutes. I spent a couple of anxious minutes worrying about their proximity, Would they keep us up all night with their noise? What the hell did they need a grocery cart for? How did they get it here? In the end, they were sweet kids who did not bother us at all.
The next day, after a morning dip in the Kinneret (all days should begin like this) We drove Northwards and settled on a hiking trail which promised waterfalls. We hiked up a mild trail, which was filled with more lush greenery then I had seen thus far in Israel. We stopped for a few hours, on the rooftop of an old Syrian bunker. Beneath us were happy families, some with dogs who were also resting. My attention was absorbed by a group of young boys who were making an elaborate lunch, complete with couscous. Just marveling at Israeli efficiency and wondering if these cooking/camping skills are something they learned from their military service. While we were engrossed in conversation, we were approached by a woman holding two small coffee cups. She offered them to us silently and then left. We were touched by this small gesture. After we leisurely enjoyed the coffee, I handed the cups back to the woman. I thanked her but I had to ask her why she choose to give us coffee. She said simply "We had extra coffee and you were in the best position to enjoy it." It is these small moments that touch me most in Israel.
We drove aimlessly for the rest of the day amongst the mountains in the Golan. We found many all-day hiking sites, unfortunately there were no sleeping camp sites. It was also not the best region to explore at night, we were hesitant to crash outside with so strong a military presence and so many signs, for grenades. We ended up resting at a more conventional family campground with not so lush gardens. In the morning we explored Banias Falls, and then walked for more than an hour to get to the Springs. The beauty of this area is impressive. The path between the Falls and Springs is covered with Figless Fig trees and a large variety of other water-loving plants. There were signs everywhere which forbade (asur, asur, asur!) people from bathing, or eating in the cold waters. Naturally, all along the path, legions of families frolicked with their lunches in the streams.
This day marks the begininng of a large moment for me. It was where my heart opened in Israel and to Israel. Meaning I was prepared to receive whatever lay ahead of me on my path. As of yet, I am still unsure of what this may bring me. But these are larger questions for another blog.
That night we slept again along the beach of the Kinneret. We feasted on gas station burekas, hummus, bread and wine. Really, these are the feast of the gods. We indulged in a late night swim and enjoyed the solitude. No gang of Argentian youth. No families. Just the golden lights of Tiberias winking across the waters. I was slightly late getting back to the farm the next day.......It was hard for me to return to my lovely and comfortable farm after this wonderful Northern adventure. The farm welcomed me back with open arms, as it always does.
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