An answer to requests

The fact is, I don't know what to say anymore.  We stumble on, heartsick and heartbroken - no ray of light at the end of the tunnel (I HATE to use that word - tunnel). More soldiers killed, more bodies identified, more missiles, especially from the north now.  Insane, messianic, narcissistic, dangerous people in charge. Over 20,000 dead in Gaza.  A dark grey cloud of misery encompasses the middle east.

But, my dear dear friends have requested that I continue to blog - a sign of life, I suppose.  This will probably be my last entry for this year.  What will 2024 bring?  When I told a friend we are without hope here, I received a lecture "Victor Frankel .......... "  Of course I have read and studied, and in fact, met Victor Frankel.  I don't need a lecture.  For us without hope, life nevertheless continues - I ENJOY bird watching for example.  Just this week I  spent a lovely day in the beautiful lower Galilee watching and listening to songbirds in a forest of sorts, and walking around the fish ponds on Kibbutz Hazorea.  Kites, ospreys, mallards. Even though it has been a remarkably mild winter, rains have fallen and it is beautiful to see  the green covered Gilboa, and breathe in the fresh crisp air.  ALL of us in the group enjoyed the day, despite the fact that we ALL live without any illusions.  Most everyone has sons or grandsons in Gaza and up north, on the border with Lebanon.  If they are not directly related to you, then you know someone who has sons and daughters in the army or the reserves.  Some people have 2 and 3 children serving in the army and many haven't seen them for three months.  Israel is a very very small country.

I enjoy my art, yoga, Feldenkrais, cleaning spring onions, and learning Arabic, which is extremely difficult.  So life continues 

BUT, -  we are without hope.

A new year begins, but in Israel it is not observed - except by Russian Jews who enjoy Sylvester, the Christian community, of course, but I don't think any communities are up to wild partying this year.

Having written these uplifting words - I nevertheless wish everyone a better new year, with some hope of resolution.

My latest piece of art:   

Heartsick

 I think I am at an all time low, although goodness knows it is highly likely to get even more down as everything crumbles and deteriorates. I can hardly turn on the news  - neither Israeli, nor foreign news. The same goes for looking at the paper.   

67 days of fighting, 137 hostages, the numbers of soldiers being killed mounts daily, as of course the staggering reports of civilians dying in Gaza.  Starvation, disease, desperation. This is war.  There are absolutely no euphemisms, just sheer horror and disbelief at the plight of humanity. It will end at some time, because all things come to an end - but how, when.   No victors if there were expected to be such a thing. Everything seems futile.

And, despite the futility, and the despair, one continues - lighting Hanukah candles each night,  cleaning, spring onions, learning Arabic, attending yoga, painting, reading, knitting,  meeting friends, seeing family, jumping at explosions, learning to differentiate between thunder and explosions, cooking, crying, laughing.  The sun comes up and the sun goes down.  And the heart wonders just how much it can contain.

HORROR SHOW

This last week of the 'ceasefire' and the return of the hostages was like watching The Hunger Games, only far far worse.  It is a reality show that is excruciating.  Hamas is torturing us, as it tortured the hostages. From those who have been returned stories are emerging, in whispers, they are told in the eyes of the women and children. And today we hear that six men are dead -  and there are still 136 hostages.

Gender violence, torture - who cares? Two young brothers now returned were 'branded' with motor exhausts so that they could be identified if they escaped. Rape, dismemberment, torture, the United Nations close their eyes and block their ears. 

Is it a surprise that this week I walk around with a sense of grief and hopelessness. And now the fighting has begun again and alarms sound from the north to the south. We had a briefing ('re-briefing') on what to do when the sirens screech. What to do if there is an 'infiltration.'  What to do if you are at home, in a car, on public transport, in a shopping center, in a park, on a promenade.

Is it a wonder that I totally forgot that this is the season of joy and hope?  Of Xmas lights, smells of nutmeg and pumpkin?  Of pressure to buy? At least we are relieved of that!

My great niece and nephew have a new game - when they play outside and hear a car door slam or some such similar sound, they come running inside shouting "siren, siren," and laugh like banshees at the reaction of the people around them.   It is such fun.

Thanksgiving??????

My heart is a prisoner in Gaza.

 07/10/23.    

BRING THEM HOME. NOW

My computer reminds me today is Thanksgiving.  My favorite holiday in America now all but forgotten - no celebrations here, there never were of course. It is a uniquely American celebration.  But today, of all days? The day 50 hostages, mothers and children, were supposed to have been returned.  I am not sure whether I wrote this in any previous post, but I will only believe IN their return if and when it actually happens, and we see it happening. This is beyond cruel, in a series of ongoing cruelty and torture that began on October 7th. 

So, to all of you whom I hold dear in America, enjoy your families, treasure your children, and your parents.  Be thankful for warmth and love and nourishment. Be thankful for the food and the blessings in your life. 

And let us hope and pray they are never taken away.

What next?

 I have not written for over a week. I have been asked (genteelly) for a new entry.  I struggle to put words down - everything just keeps getting steadily worse. The agony of not knowing about the hostages continues.  Their families and supporters have marched to Jerusalem, only to be met by a stony silence, little offers of hope - glimmers that fade almost as soon as they begin. I think I have found a term for this time, or present constant state of being - it is existential agony. Some days I have energy to engage with others, o rin different activities, and some days I don't. Some days I want to talk to people, other days I don't. I am trying to be more accepting of myself in this state of existential agony.  This is an extremely dark time for humanity.

It Just Gets Worse

How difficult it is to describe the ongoing grind of war.   It is difficult to bear the constant assault of those protesting against Israel all over the world.  These protests and cries against us are almost as frequent as the barrage of missiles sent our way. Apparently these are no longer mentioned in newspapers overseas.  The displacement of over 200,000 people in Israel - the deserted farms, cities, and settlements in the north and the south. The uncertainty of what is going to happen, combined with the uncertainty of what is happening. The horror of the captives - where are they? are they alive? Who is feeding the young children, the nursing babies, the sick and the elderly? Who is holding them? and comforting them? Are women and men separated? Do they have any idea of where they are? Can they sleep? Do they know a nation is praying for them? weeping for them? Do they know that we have not abandoned them? Not even for one second? 

Do they know how horrified we are by the words and deeds of those in our government?  Who can understand a people that have been abandoned by those who are supposed to be looking after us?

BUT, the indomitable spirit of the people of this country - civilians, soldiers, teenagers, elderly - everyone coming together, to feed, to clothe, to comfort, to house the displaced, to cry together, to help together, this is what sustains us, but it is so very very hard.

A Heavy Heart

 As I began to write this blog, Friday October 27, at 2.15, I was shaken by a loud explosion. No sirens, so this means it is not immediately close to us.  I turned on the TV - missiles in the Tel Aviv area, and a building was hit! An apartment building has been struck - 2 top stories are burning, residents are being rushed to hospital.

I have called this entry "A Heavy Heart" because for the last week or so my heart is heavy as I see and read of demonstrations around the world against Israel, against Jews, against the colonizing Israelis and persecution of Palestinians.  Just so anyone who reads this can understand - I have ALWAYS been against the occupation.  I am still opposed to the occupation.  There are many people in Israel who oppose the occupation and still, against all hope, want a two state solution.

 The 'woke,' self righteous, good people of the world, do NOT understand the very complex history of this area.  They should try to become a little more informed, and read about the colonial British, the partition, the wars between the Arab peoples.  It is not my place to write about this.  I just want to let everyone know that this is PETRIFYING and tragic for everyone.  We have nowhere to go.  Nowhere is safe.

This morning I went for a teeth cleaning in the small town of Even Yehuda.  The taxi driver who picked me up asked how I am. He said he is "excellent, as good as can be under the circumstances. I do not watch TV, I don't listen to each expert who knows better than the other what to do, I work and go home to my family, and pray."

Every small town and moshav now has a guard and gate at the entrance.  As we went through early, there were only a couple of cars going through. Everyone working in the dental ofice was polite and solicitious. They wished me a quiet shabat when I left. I went for a cup of coffee and all the waiters and counter people were helpful and polite and nice.  It is a different country since the war! I am not quite used to it. Before I reached the cafe a group of young boys, about 10, approached me and asked whether I would  buy a lemonade or cookie for the residents and soldiers in the south.  I said I would give them some money. I handed them the money and they said, "please, at least have some lemonade." They told me where the money was going. They were serious, polite and caring.

The taxi driver who picked me up to take me home apologised for being tardy - "there is a roadblock into town, only one and a (more explosions right now - Rishon LeZion) very long line of cars waiting to get through.  So stupid", he said, "a long line at the one entrance - we will all be killed together."  

On the way back we saw a miles long line of cars waiting to get through.  He pointed out the open fields on either side of the highway, "what is to stop them coming through in a truck and killing us all."

We are NOT living in comfort and peace and ignorance. We know what is happening in Gaza, we know what is happening in the north. What we don't know is what is happening next - a ground invasion? not? when? This waiting and not knowing is completely nervewracking.  Waiting for a war, waiting for missiles, above all, wanting, and waiting, and praying for the hostages to be returned.

To all you 'woke' people, try and understand that this story has many sides, an Apeirogon - it is a unending tragedy for everyone. 

Read "Apeirogen" by Colum McCann

The End of the World

Is this the way the world ends?  For us here it certainly is the end of the world as we knew it. It will never be the same - ever.

 Friday night - erev shabat.  A crescent moon shines in the darkening sky.  Night is falling.

Just two weeks ago, it was October 6, the 50th anniversary of the Yom Kipur War.  I went to the nearby mall - it was packed with people.  All the restaurants and cafes were full. The local humus restaurant is the friday meeting place for the young soldiers on leave.  They were eating, laughing, patting each others backs - young boys, identifiable as soldiers by their haircuts.  Young girls, so beautiful. They were in civilian clothing, the uniform of the young, denims, sandals, T-shirts.  I looked at them and hoped they will never know of war. 

Just two weeks ago, on Friday night, I decided to make dinner.  I haven't cooked during the summer because it has been way too hot and humid, but the weather was lovely two weeks ago.  I made dinner and invited my neighbours.  We ate together, had wine, and spoke of future plans. The one neighbour was going to Cornwall in a couple of days.  I was going to Egypt in December, and then a good friend planned to visit. Two friends, actually - one at the end of October, and one in December. The immediate future seemed as rosy as the wine we drank.

And then came Saturday.  And now we see the photos and names of the people who were slaughtered.  Facebook, social media,  newspapers, TV - photos of babies, young, beautiful faces, families, grandparents, never ever to smile again.  And there seems to be no end, each day more bodies are found.

Today I went to the mall which has been closed for about 10 days, other than the supermarket and the pharmacy.  Once again, it was full - except there were no young soldiers on leave.  Just families, children, vendors. By now I know lots of them -we greet each other, and I see that faces have changed.  Everyone has a look of fear, uncertainty, anxiety. We say shalom, we shrug - it seems that we all feel something terrible is coming.  Two weeks have been full of shock and fear, but worse is to come. A child came running in holding a balloon. It popped, for a second there was silence, then faces registered anger.  "Who the hell gives someone a balloon now?"

"Shabat shalom" we say to each other, shrug, and add, 'hopefully.'

The world as we knew it two weeks ago, will not be the same again - ever.  Maybe this is the beginning of the end.

Please Know

 I want everyone who reads this blog to know that Israel did NOT bomb the hospital in Gaza.  Immediately that horror happened it was broadcast around the world that Israel bombed the hospital. It was Al Jazeera who learned the truth - a rocket sent by Islamic Jihad that backfired!!!!!!!  And last night I listened to Christiane Amanpour on CNN.  She interviewed the Egyptian Foreign Minister on CNN.k. He said Egypt cannot take in refugees from Gaza - they have 9 million refugees or civilians from other countries.  They are supposedly taking care of Gaza.  No, they can't let in refugees, and while they spoke headlines by King Abdullah of Jordan stated that Jordan will not take in refugees from Gaza.  I am not going into this in detail, but it should be obvious that the Palestinians are a forgotten people by their brothers.  There are 60,000 Israeli refugees - from the north and south.  They are housed in kibbutzim, moshavim, hotels, settlements.  Volunteers are taking them food and clothing.  Therapists are working with them.

War is HORRIBLE, and terrible acts are committed by both sides, but please, don't be blinded by propaganda.  There are still enough reliable sources of information.

And pray for everyone.

Waiting For God

 I think that was the title of a BBC series set in an old aged home - a residential senior establishment, or whatever the euphemisms are, sorry can't think clearly these days.

Last night I experienced a breakdown of sorts - I was supposed to take a zoom yoga class, but I just couldn't do anything, other than lie on the couch and cry from time to time.  The atrocities, the uncertainty, the fear of what next, is hard to bear.  I managed to read my book  The Missing Sister, and I immersed myself in the troubled history and wars of Ireland, then went to  sleep earlier than I normally do.  I seemed to have a deep and dreamless sleep. As I normally do in the morning, after meditation, I opened the shutters and made a cup of coffee.  I turned the TV on, and listened to it in the background.  I had drunk just half a cup of coffee when I heard a siren.  I wasn't sure whether it was on TV or not.  I turned off the TV, and the siren continued.  I put the coffee down, grabbed a packet of kleenex, took my housekey and went to the shelter in a building close by.  Each floor has a shelter. Of course I went to the shelter on the ground floor. On the way I saw my Arab cleaning lady run out of the house she was cleaning, and beckoned to her to come. She went to another building, closer to where she was standing.

If it hadn't been so damn scary, it might have been like a hilarious scene from Waiting For God.  A couple sat there quietly, then a delightful old South African woman came in on her scooter, pushed by her Phillipino helper.  A young Sri Lankan woman looking after a demented lady came in holding her hand.  The woman was in her dressing gown and she looked around at everyone and smiled, "Why are we here," she asked. "Did someone die?"  The South African woman had left her bottom set of teeth in her shower. Her helper was crying, and we put our arms around her and told her to sit between us.  "Come," said the half toothless woman, "sit between us old ladies, it will be alright."  We heard explosions, (those who could hear), but determined they were not in our immediate vicinity.  After 20 minutes that seemed more like 3 days, we left. I returned to my half cup of coffee and finished drinking it with shaking hands.

THIS IS NOT FUN.

50 Years and One Day

October 6th, 1973 - Yom Kipur, Saturday

October 7th, 2023 -  Simchat Torah, Saturday

October 6th, 1973 - Attacked from all fronts, soldiers fight 

October 7th, 2023 - Terrorists infiltrate from the south - innocent women and children, old and young - slaughtered, hounded, abducted

Once again, I am at a loss for words.

A country and its people in shock.  This has never happened before. This will not end tomorrow.  Planes and helicopters overhead.  Supermarkets empty because people have bought food to send to soldiers. The reservists don't have food!!!!!! Hundreds of citizens at the side of the roads giving out food as soldiers go to the north and the south.  The number of the dead and the wounded rises by the hour. The names of the soldiers whose families have been notified are read on TV - their names, their young age, girls and boys. Terrible heartrending wrenching interviews on TV with family members who hid, who lost partners, fathers, grandparents, who are still in hiding, as the terrorists came into their homes and settlements. A nature 'rave' of young, hopeful, optimistic people, celebrating music and each other, slaughtered, their bodies on the ground, some abducted, wounded.  Horrors upon horrors of scenes that defy imagination.

Where I live the shelters have been 'aired' and stocked with chairs, mattresses, and water. We all know where to go, and what to do, and for how long to stay in the shelters. Everyone here has grandchildren in the army, some had grandchildren who attended the rave. Some have already been informed that their grandchildren have been killed or wounded.

I went to the nearby mall - all the shops and restaurants are closed.  Only the supermarket is open, and very empty.  The Arab woman who works there and has so helped me in my state of culture shock, came to me and we hugged each other. She patted me on the back "it will be OK, everything will be OK."

Shift

 I often find that I experience certain inner events or feelings that I cannot express in words. I feel that words establish boundaries and limits on my inner experience.  So I cannot neither vocalise nor write about them. With that understanding, I write the following events.

As I wrote in the previous entry, I decided to the kibbutz for Yom Kipur.  The day before I was due to arrive, my friend phoned to ask what time I would be getting there.  She also said, "bring your bathing suit."

"What pools are open on Yom Kipur?" I asked.

"The pool on the kibbutz, of course" she replied.

With those words I experienced a kind of deep and hitherto unexpressed inner movement.  

She had not been in the country on that Yom Kipur.  She was traveling around America.  Those of us on the kibbutz had gone to the swimming pool on the Yom Kipur of October 6th 1973.   At 2.00 p.m.  exactly, two Mirages screeched overhead, leaving long white tails in the clear blue sky.  We all commented on how odd this was on Yom Kipur.  A day of no radio, no news, no transport, no cars, a quiet day.  And then, just after the planes, the father of the friend who wasn't there rode toward us on his bicycle, his transistor radio in his hand.  He said to us "there is a war, Israel has been attacked from all sides, go to your rooms."  And as one body we rose and went to our room (mine and Rafi) because everyone knew where he was in the army, in the Sinai desert.  We taped the windows and put buckets of sand inside the small bathroom, and then we went to the dining room to bring back eggs, milk, and cheese, so we could make a cheese cake.

And last week, when she suggested we go to the pool,  I suddenly felt something move inside of me. Something shifted and moved, and lifted, as if on wings that spread open and upward.  I would go to the pool, and then, later in the day, just before Neilah, the closing of the gates, I would go to the cemetery to say goodbye, finally, and let us both fly free.

And so I did just that.

Sunday/Rosh Hashana

 Firstly, to everyone, a sweet and fulfilling new year.

This card is from a painting I did.  I took a photo of the painting and edited it to make this card.  Once I completed the painting I obliterated it with a few coats of gesso, so that I can reuse the board.  

Today is the second day of Rosh Hashana.  The only holiday in Israel that is celebrated for two days, and because the first day was Saturday, today is Sunday so it feels like a normal weekend (normal, that is, for those of us who remember having two day weekends.)

And, as with everything this past year, it wasn't quite the Rosh Hashana we had planned for the family - but I apologise as I cannot go into details.  However, we did the best we could to mark the new year.

And, of course, next weekend is Yom Kipur. It is 50 years since The Yom Kipur War - the War which changed my life, and the lives of countless people, forever.  I have blogged about this incessantly over the years. Because it is 50 years, the TV stations are showing endless discussions and clippings of the war.  There are interviews with the commanders and generals still alive, and the soldiers who survived.  Endless discussions about the mistakes that were made.  The film about Golda is now on the circuit. I am not watching anything on TV, nor will I see Golda.  I will go to the kibbutz for Yom Kipur. 

May this year 5784 bring a ray of hope to all the people on this planet, and to our beloved planet itself.

Something Very Strange

 Every now and then I look at the stats on my blog - I can see how many people have viewed it, and the number of comments (very rare).  Over the past couple of months, if these stats are to be believed, which of course they obviously aren't, it would appear that thousands of people have read my posts.  I cannot see in which countries or areas these people live, and as there are no more comments than usual, I find it impossible to believe.  Something must be wrong with the set up, but I haven't attempted to change anything on the settings - I wouldn't dare!!!!!!  I am technologically challenged.

At the end of June I lost a large amount of files on my computer that I had neatly filed into appropriate boxes which I had opened over the years.  I just couldn't find anything.  All empty, gone ---- into the ether. I do have a back up time machine, and everyone assured me it should be there. Those who know about these things attempted to help, with zooms, remote viewings, screen sharings. Nothing, nader - 6 weeks now of trying and nothing has been restored. I went through all the stages of grief; horror, denial, shock, anger, bargaining, sadness, self anger and guilt (these are MY stages, not necessarily those of Elizabeth Kubler Ross) despair, and although not acceptance, resignation.

When I moved to Israel I did not bring any electrical appliances because the electrical requirements here are different.  Because of the above terrible loss which apparently thousands of people are reading about, and my state of resignation, I decided to buy a printer.  The reason being that I will revert to old time storage of papers and real - not virtual files.

This week I bought a printer and yesterday managed to install it and connect it to my wi fi.  Now I know many readers will look at this and think - so what, anyone can do that.  I can assure you, NOT anyone can and I feel very proud of myself.

And from now on all important information will be printed out and filed away.  Of course it will also be on my computer.  I only hope that somehow I can keep hold of these records.

Some Art

 I have been sequestered, firstly because of covid, and now the weather, and general malaise.  I have been reading a lot - someone here bought me about 5 very large books - about 800 pages each, the first being The Seven Sisters.  She insisted I have missed out by not having read them - worse even, I had never heard of them. Until I became ill they took up space on my bookshelf unopened. One of my days in isolation I leafed through the first one. Having nothing else to do, or to read, I began reading. Hmm, I thought, as I read - predictable, contrived, artificial, and I continued reading despite my severe criticism. I am now on the fourth book, and totally engrossed.  

I had also reserved The Covenant of Water on Libby - as an audible book.  A note informed me I had a 21 week late.  3 days later I received a text that the book is ready. So while I listen to this book I began to try watercolours - a medium I find very difficult.  Also some sketching with graphite.

Here are the fruit of my labours:

Dog Days

 Is the "Dog Days of summer" an American expression.  Is there, in fact, such an expression?  It came to my mind this afternoon when I opened the glass sliding door to my patio to look at a new plant I put in this morning.  The sliding door and all the windows are closed. The air conditioning is on. My outdoor bumble bee thermometer registers 100 fahrenheit. That is about 34 degrees centigrade.  Outside the late afternoon air is hot - it feels like stepping into a bowl of hot soup. It wraps itself around you clinging to one like a veil.  If I am out for longer than 5 minutes sweats drips into my eyes and onto my clothing.

I never did like the Israeli summer, but at least when I lived on the kibbutz and in Jerusalem it was a dry heat.  An oven that was not sticky.  In the long ago days of kibbutz life there was no air conditioning.  Electric fans were placed in strategic positions, dark shutters were pulled tight in the morning and only opened again in the evening.  We didn't have refrigerators either.  I would go to the dining room, foam jerry can in hand, and fill it up with soda water that came out of the middle tap in the kitchen. That was a refreshing blessing.  Every evening a breeze would sigh through the cypress trees and we spread out cotton blankets on the grass and sat outside.  But there was no humidity, and that was fine.

Jerusalem evenings even required a shawl or light sweater. Another blessing. 

Of course this was long long ago. Long before one heard mention of global warming, or climate change, or tipping point, or HEAT LOAD, or wind chill.  I might even say "the good old days."

I thrived in the fog and chill of the bay area - I have mentioned this ad nauseum.

All to say is that I am NOT thriving now.  The quality of the heat has changed, as has the quality of the rain on those rare occasions that it rains. The weather report here states for example, 35 degrees with an increased heat load.  I am not sure what this means other than that it is absolutely unbearable.  Some days when there is no heat load it almost feels pleasant at 35 degrees!

My brother lives in rural New Hampshire amidst beautiful trees near a lovely lake.  They had a tornado last week and all the beautiful trees are gone. Thank goodness at least their home was spared.  

 So along with all my other concerns about the ever worsening political situation is an all pervasive overriding anxiety of climate panic.   I know I am not alone in this, but that does not help  particularly.   What have we done to our beautiful planet?

Birthday

Yesterday was my birthday - July 22.  I have to say it was the strangest birthday in my 76 years  on this planet.  Of course I have no recollection of my early, formative years - who knows, there may have been a foreshadowing - speculative.

I am at the tail end of my first bout with Corona!!!!!!  How I got it is a mystery, but exactly the Saturday before my birthday I was slammed!  

I came out of quarantine the day before my birthday, and my first and only foray into the outside oven was to the recycling bin.  

To add to the strangeness of it all, I have spent my past many birthdays in the United States, in California. Israel is 10 hours ahead of California, So speaking to people was as topsy turvy as is everything these days. In other words, I did not speak to friends in the States until late in the day.  As my day was finishing, greetings came in until late into the night.   

A birthday dinner arranged by my sister was celebrated without me!  

All of this adds to my surreal experience of the present times.

Amidst all these happening, it is  uplifting to witness, once again, the wonderful, brave, resilient, humanist, indomitable, spirit of the Israeli people.

Is this going to prevail?

Day of Disruption

 In my geriatric bubble everything is carrying on as usual, EXCEPT for the looks of despair, and sadness, and resignation omnipresent in the faces of the residents, many of whom have served this country as judges, doctors, pilots, soldiers, teachers, nurses.  Of those residents who came from England, the USA, Australia, South Africa, Ireland - they came for idealistic reasons. The chose to come to a country they believed had a right to exist, and would be 'a light unto the nations.' 

This light has been extinguished by a bunch of fanatic, extremist, racist, would be dictators.

It is a sad sad day.  And the people - the wonderful people, who still love this country are out protesting in the streets, at the airport, causing disruptions that are still legal in the eyes of the soon to be gone judicial system.  

Everything has taken on a surreal quality.  All of this that is happening, can't REALLY be happening.  And the weather - hot and humid.  The weather is insane all over the world.  What have we done to our planet and its peoples?  It is time for everyone everywhere to wake up. 

Recent Sojourn

 I was on the Island of Aegina and in Athens for a few days.  Here are some photos - will write shortly.

As usual, since my last post, so much has been happening and I have been unable to write - hope these pictures will replace words.

And Another

 Outside the sky is carpeted with grey clouds, the burning sun is not visible, but is felt as soon as I open the door. It is like opening an oven door.  Next to my front door frame, the needle on the bumblebee clock I brought with me from overseas, is creeping toward 110 degrees fahrenheit.  I purposely bought this with me so I wouldn't forget fahrenheit.  All the while I lived in the States I converted the temperature to celsius by deducting 30 and dividing the sum by 2.   This would make today 40 degrees centigrade, which it is.  In other words, hot, oppressive, not a day to be spent outside.  This began last evening, high temperatures, a howling wind which blew dust everywhere.  Maybe three heavy drops of "rain" - drops that splatter on cars leaving dusty blotches.

Was it just two nights before that I slept in a guest house on a kibbutz in the north of Israel, on a birding expedition? My whole sense of reality seems  to have changed.  We went up to the Golan Heights, right on the Syrian border. We walked to a natural spring to see the wildlife - toads, water snakes, soldiers, their submachine guns left on the ground as they dunked themselves.  A sign on the path warned us not to step away from the marked path because of land mines.  Just three feet from that sign was a sign for an ice cream shop to be found through Waze.  I tried to photograph these signs but the sun spoilt the photographs. It is the glorious season  of platinum and gold, interspersed by the green of grapevines and cherry trees. 

We saw Frankolins, Mallards, cormorants, terns, warblers, pink ladies, barn owls. - the last of the spring flowers, glorious clouds, heard muffled explosions from Syria, ate delicious dolmas and humus and pita in a Druze village. 

Such is life - and we must celebrate each moment.

Another Day

 Presently the war with Gaza is already in the past.  I feel like a hamster, going round and round on its wheel.  The same thing, for years now.  Rockets over the border, retaliations, 'targeted' killings, 'collateral damage, " (the killing of civilians and children) - a ceasefire, again and again and again.  What is the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over expecting some kind of result?

So, war over, inflation, money going to the Haredi community, fighting in the coalition.  

Anyway, having said all that, I took the train the other day to Binyamina.  A friend from Zichron Yaakov was to pick me up.

At the railway station my ticket didn't work - the gates did not open, no matter which way I swiped. Some passersby also tried - nothing, no open sesame.  The young guard looking through peoples' luggage and handbags let me in.  To my surprise, it worked when I exited the station in Binyamina. My friend suggested we go to the transport office anyway, and I agreed. First we had coffee in their lovely apartment with windows overlooking the fields and valleys going down to the sea.  If it hadn't been so hot and dusty and hazy we would have seen the Mediterranean, but I did see it in my imagination, sparkling lapis blue and turquoise.  Off to the transport office.  A young woman with long painted nails, and puffed out lips took my card and tapped some keys on a computer.  

"ID card" she said.  I asked if something is wrong with my card.  Brusquely she said, 'it is not working" and without any further explanation  she made a new card and handed it to me.We strolled around the shops and galleries of Zichron and went to have lunch in Ramat HaNadiv - the gorgeous, well maintained gardens established by Baron Rothschild.  

Then it was time to return by train.  My ticket worked.  There was actually someone at the information window - the first time I have seen an official.  I asked her which train to take to Beit Yehoshua and she told me platform 3.  When I got there I realised she hadn't seen which number train to take and what its final destination was.  I looked at the notice board - names in Hebrew, Arabic, English repeated - somewhere I once saw Beit Yehoshua, but then didn't see it again.  A train pulled in - I had no idea if this is the train I should board.  The doors closed - some religious men ran toward it and got on, couldn't ask them.  Along ambled someone who vaguely looked like he might be a conductor - I asked him.He looked at me as if to say "what a nuisance you are" and pointed to the train with closed doors.  "How do I get on?"  I asked - rudely he said, find a green button.  I lost my composure - I said "I am new and I don't know how things work, would it hurt you to not be rude?"

I got to Beit Yehoshua and had to find a bus.  The guard letting people in sat at his post biting the nail on his forefinger, he proceed to bit the nail on his middle finger. I asked him where the buses are - "I don't know," he said chewing on his nail, "ask the person at information" he said, waving his hand in the direction of an empty office.

"There is no one to ask" I told him.  He shrugged and continued to his next nail.

Eventually a passenger told me where to go.  

It takes a lot of patience, living in Israel, and some days I just don't have it.

I took a taxi home.

A Day in the LIfe Of

 Or, rather, a couple of days in the life of ......

I may have mentioned before that life as we know it, begins in Israel on Sunday, and if I haven't, I have mean to ..... every week!

The weekday begins Sunday, and I find this very confusing.  By the time it is Tuesday I am sure it is Thursday.  Somehow the whole order of life with its routines just doesn't feel right.

This week I woke up on Sunday with a blood red right eye.  I looked like half a devil.  What is odd is that it is presently my left eye that is badly infected and I have been using antibiotic drops in it for a week. That eye I can't open in the morning as it is stuck together - all disgusting.  I cleaned my stuck left eye which opened and then I saw my devilish red eye.  I had no pain in it, and I could see, and anyway I knew I had an appt. with the eye doctor on Wednesday. I was OK with this - but I live in a place of opinionated people.  From my first public appearance I was bombarded with - ' go to the doctor,' 'go to the clinic,' 'call emergency' 'go to hospital' 'get an ambulance.'  I spent the day telling people that I had a doctor's appt. on Wednesday, I don't have an emergency, I am OK  LEAVE ME ALONE

Monday morning my eye was still red but my left eye felt like there might be something pressing on the eyeball, but I didn't see anything. In the afternoon, as I was diligently cleaning my eyes, I lightly pressed under the left eye, on the eyeline and a fountain of pus erupted.  I was HORRIFIED.  I cleaned and cleaned and applied compresses, canceled an appointment for the museum the next day and tended to this revolting situation.  I could still see, and I had the upcoming appt.  On Tuesday afternoon I arranged for a taxi to pick me up Wednesday morning at 8.30.  This was arranged through the reception in my presence. Tuesday morning I awoke to hear on the news that Israel had struck Gaza - civilians were killed.  Wednesday morning no further news, also no taxi.  I waited - then told reception and at the last minute another taxi came. 

Got to the doctor in the nick of time - surprise! infections.  Drops, treatment, caught a taxi back and lay down for 2 hours. I awoke to the news that rockets have been sent from Gaza to the center of Israel, and the activity that was planned for tonight  - Lag B'Omer - eating outside, singing, watching firedancers, has been cancelled. We know where our shelters are - planes are not allowed to fly into Israel. A war, again.

And it is only Wednesdayl ---

And that is a synopsis of a day in the life of .......

Some photos

 

It is the beginning of the season of platinum and gold. Spring is over.  These photos are of Mt. Tabor and the fields around the kibbutz.  A photo also of the cemetery, which is so lovely and peaceful.

It was good to be there. The memorial day ceremonies were sad and respectful - meaningful is perhaps the right word.  

I visited my friend Ziva and said goodbye to her also.

Tough Times

 The days between Holocaust Memorial Day and Yom Hazikaron (Israel Memorial Day) are never easy, certainly not for anyone who has suffered losses during these times. And unfortunately, there are way too many of us in Israel who are not personally affected.

However, this year, which marks 50 years since the Yom Kippur War, and 75 years since the birth of the State of Israel - the terrible political situation makes it much more difficult.

I will go to the Kibbutz - from the evening of Yom Hazikaron and will stay there through Yom Haatzmaut.

The ceremonies on the kibbutz are beautiful: dignified, respectful, no displays of nationalism or fanatacism.  The setting, in the beautiful Jezreel Valley in the late spring, could not be more idyllic. It will help me stave off the questions of 'what for?' and 'why.'  The what for has been relatively easy to answer until now.  The why is not a question that can be answered.  One simply lives with the reality of what happened, and I for one, am grateful for each moment I have been granted.

Sadly, the size of the cemetery in the Kibbutz is increasing.  This will be my first visit to my dear friend, Ziva's grave.  This is impossible to imagine, Ziva who was there for me from the moment Ray and I arrive on the kibbutz - who was there for me when we were told of his death, who was there for me on every Remembrance Day, whether or not I was in the country.  How we always laughed together, and cried together, and understood each other, throughout life's many vicissitudes.  I cannot fathom that she too, is in a grave. 

I understand that this is a rather morbid post, but goodness knows, we live in morbid times.

How I can only dream that peace will be upon us all.

A Snow Globe

 Okay, think of a snow globe that is NOTHING like a snow globe.  Rather it contains myriad particles of sand and dust, and dirt - and it has been shaken up and nothing inside is visible.  I stand and look at it from the outside, and wait for the different particles to settle down so that I can make out what is inside this globe. 

This is how the last year (and then some) has been for me - I have been shaken up, and yes, some particles have settled - on a physical level at least.  I like my home, the myriad of bureaucratic dealings are beginning to fall into place.  However, when I receive an email, or a SMS, or an actual letter, and have to fill in forms the inner turmoil takes over, maybe just a tiny bit less than previously but it is far from gone.  On a spiritual level - I feel I belong here. It is so good to be with my family and my close friends.  But there are times I feel I am between worlds.  My dreams certainly show me this.  The most recent theme is that I am with friends somewhere in America, either in a restaurant or at a cinema,  or driving somewhere, and suddenly I am lost.  I can't find anyone and I don't know where to go or whom I can ask for help. It is a struggle, and I wake and think, "oh, a dream," and then fall right back into it. Of course they are peopled by friends, by work colleagues, by patients, everyone and everything all jumbled up, and I can't find where I should turn to for help.

And then there is the dreadful reality of the Netanyahu government, the violence, the upheavals.  It is coming up to Memorial Day, and for me, and for everyone who has lost someone dear to them, the globe of dust is shaken up again and never quite settles, and all feels futile.

But there are moments also of everything feeling OK, especially like today when it rained a bit, and the air is cool again and dust free.

Tomorrow is the end of Passover.  Please let it be peaceful, even just for a day.

Bay Area Tryptich

These pastels are from photos I took over the last couple of years, while still living in the Bay Area. The current state of Israel is too upsetting to write about. Also, it is 100 degrees fahrenheit, so one doesn't feel like doing much!

Shabat

 Today is April Fool's Day.  In Hebrew it is Nisan - the month of spring, hope, renewal, passover.  The root of the word is Nes  (I am not kidding) which means miracle.

For me today the Nes is the quiet of shabat (where I live).  The cool air, the mild sun, the beautiful clouds, the fragrance of the trees and flowers that are blossoming. The pink blossoms of the almond trees, the uplifting fragrance of a shrub with light purple flowers whose name I do not know. The jasmine. The cooing of the doves, the chirping of the birds.  It truly does feel like a miracle amidst the turbulence and upheaval, the insecurity, and the fear that surrounds us.  We know we are on the very edge of a precipice, will we grasp and eat the strawberry, or will we fall to the bottom of the abyss?  Even the weather forecast portends the coming of a chamsin, (a heatwave) just in time for the seder.

So I choose to enjoy today, to walk outside, to sit on my balcony and read, and continue with my pastel painting.

Shabat shalom

Timing

 My timing is impeccable.  

The disastrous elections were held two days after my arrival in Israel.

It takes six months to get health coverage.  Before then I had to pay private insurance.  My national health insurance came through 2 days ago.  Two days ago I woke up without a voice, and a terrible headache! Perfect timing.

I do not have Corona - daily tests are negative - but obviously I have one of the many viruses going around.  Maybe it is to the delight of everyone that I have no voice.

That was the same morning my neighbour and I had to go to a lawyer to sign to the last testament. The poor man had his second leg amputated, then he had a heart attack, then the doctors told his partner that the infection was in his lungs.  We raced to the lawyer - i.e. we tried to race but that morning it poured and traffic was at a standstill. Eventually we arrived and went to the office of the lawyer who explained that the oral will was not enough, and the man had to sign.  His partner's sister who was with us told him that he is not exactly in a good way - not nice to say that he was on his last legs, because he wasn't anymore. The lawyer went to the hospital, the man signed, and 20 minutes later passed away.  The funeral took place the next morning - I did not go to that, and my neighbour didn't have the heart to ask if his legs were in his coffin. I presume they were.

Life ..............   And today another day of disruption.

A Movie

 And just like that my life turned into an Almodovar movie.

I was settling down last night and about to write on my Saturday in the West Bank.  Just before I was to write my cousin called from California - we haven't spoken in a while, and were deep in conversation when there was a knock on my door.  My neighbour asked me if I could do her a big favour.  Her friend's husband is in the ICU at Meir Hospital in Cfar Saba and her son and his husband needed to film him reading his will and they needed two witnesses -immediately. 

Off we raced to the hospital.  Her friend held my neighbour and sobbed loudly - we looked at each other, this woman I had never met before this second. I hugged her and she fell onto my shoulder sobbing.  Then very quickly we had to clean our hands, put on gloves, and gowns were placed over our heads.  Of course we had masks on, but more masks were placed over them.  Dressed in blue we were ushered into his room - machines beeping, red and green lines flashing.  The son and his husband dressed like us held up a phone. The man thanked us and said he is pleased to meet me, but wishes the circumstances were different. The son gave him a piece of paper and he read his last will, stating he is of sound mind, which he obviously was - it was his body that was not even close to being sound. He was undergoing dialysis, one leg had been amputated and his remaining leg was to be amputated. All this precipitated by his cancer. Once he read the will my friend stated her name and ID number, then I did the same. We signed the paper, wished the man whatever we could wish him in his current condition.

Then we went to Aroma Cafe.  His wife's estranged sister and her friend arrived. The wife screamed at the sister, and the world, and shouted about the doctors, shouted at herself, told us all that had occurred over the last few days.  He already had a leg amputated the day before, and apparently the doctor asked where she wanted the leg . 

WHAT? we all stopped arguing - where did she want the leg?  For what - what other parts will she be asked to keep.  Apparently according to Jewish law the body has to be buried whole.  This set us off about ashes, The Big Lebovski, cremations, funerals and we all doubled over with laughter. The woman asked the orthopedist if this is the meaning of "he has one foot in the grave?"  Well she told him, wait till tomorrow when you take of his other leg. maybe I can decide then.

To say this was a light relief from the present realities may give you an idea of the current situation.

Women in Red

I took this photo yesterday, International Womens' Day, from a bridge overlooking main highways.

Amongst all the demonstrations happening in Israel, is Women in Red - The government should not cross a red line. There are hardly any women in the Knesset now.  Women are being suppressed - separate buses, abusers are not found guilty, women are hardly represented in companies, women cannot come to the Western Wall in Jerusalem.  According to the religious, a woman's place is in the home, raising children, and, by the way, working - while the men spend their time studying the torah and praying.  Of course heads and arms and legs are covered - if things continue like this, we are not far from being ruled as the Taliban rules.  Well, since the demonstrations have begun, women have and are showing that this will NOT happen.

The red line will NOT be crossed.

 

A Few Pictures

 Sometimes pictures are worth a thousand words

1. I don't know what is going on with my computer or blogsite, and sadly there are no Apple users, young or old who can help me.  I hope these pictures are published and what I am trying to write is published.  We are in the 9th week of ever increasing demonstrations with ever increasing numbers of people attending and demonstrating, despite the commands of the Minister of Security who himelf is a known criminal who was not allowed into the armed forces.  Who knows what is going to happen here:  A few choices 

a theocracy

a dictatorship

a banana republic

a civil war 

a complete fall of any kind of leadershipl

But demonstrations continue.  The wife of the Prime Minister chose to come to a hairdresser in Tel Aviv on a day of national disruptions.  Normally all the people who cater her go to her home, but no, she chose to come to Tel Aviv and in my humble opinion should have been left inside the hairdresser and the doors land exits locked, so there she would stay.  Insteads millions were spent to get her out.

Of course I have more to say, but I have to get this blogsite fixed.  Who can help me?

Three Months

 I have now been in this geriatric summer camp for three months.  It seems impossible. I feel quite settled and comfortable, and even the bureaucratic horrors are somewhat residing.  My new concern is why it feels OK, and is a dark cloud of reality awaiting, about to take over and send me onto my sofa, where I may remain for months.

I am, of course, still in a strange reverse culture shock.  Reverse, that is, from the original culture shock I had when I went to America - a shock that accompanied most of my time there.  I was so very overwhelmed by the sheer volume of choices - in everything, that I became a person who just couldn't decide - on the bread I wanted, on the type of milk, on the salt, on the size of everything and anything - large, medium, small. On what to order in restaurants, on what to order in a bar, on anything. I turned into a gibbering idiot. I remember my unbridled joy when I was in Namibia, and ordered a toasted cheese, and that is what I got - a toasted cheese of a size that I could bite into without breaking my jaw. Two slices of white bread, toasted with a thin slice of cheese.  And now here I am in Israel, once again at a loss, because everything here has changed. And on top of it I can break open packets in the supermarket and take out just one or two items - e.g. 2 carrots, 4 tomatoes, one bottle of soda from a pack. Now the thing here, apparently, is to become a member - of a supermarket, a pharmacy, a cheese shop, a coffee shop, a clothing store, a book shop - but then everytime I buy something I have to give them my ID number or my phone number, neither of which I remember, and have to look them up.You give a tip before you pay - you add it on to the bill. Taxis you don't tip, or do you? on and on.

At last I have begun to see friends, as I am not spending every moment staring into my computer screen trying to fill in forms. I have even begun to learn to use my smart TV - don't get too excited - I still don't know how to record programs, but at least I can turn the TV on and find whatever it is I want to watch. Of course there is the small problem of subtitles - and when the commentators on the Hebrew news all begin shouting at each other and no one listens to anyone, I turn it off.  Mostly that is good because the news is so depressing that it is better not to listen.  I do receive Haaretz newspaper online - so I am definitely not in the dark, or should I say - all is in the dark.  This dreadful dark cloud that has overtaken so many countries - the end of democracy?  So I once again focus on the lovely things, the spring flowers that have begun to carpet the country. The interesting art exhibitions.  Bird watching, the joy of having my great nieces and nephew so nearby.  For all of these things I am grateful.   

And of course, for the fact that I can easily speak to friends all over the world.  

Last Night's Moon

 

Some photos

Photos from the park - (the grounds where I live) and a work in progress - I took the photo on the Bay Trail 
 

Teeny Weeny Rays of Light

To my absolute astonishment, and that of my sister who has helped me every step of the way - I received my Israeli Driver's License in less than four hours.  It did entail driving from the Ministry of Transport to a mall where I had to have my eyes tested, then to another mall for a photograph, then back to the Ministry of Transport, but hey, what is that compared to weeks of back and forth.  A miracle!!!!!

Then I did hear from the Ministry of Defense and a social worker came to see me.  A week later a Welfare worker came.  So slowly the wheels seem to be moving. For all of these things, O Lord, I am grateful.

This week I went on a tour with my geriatric playmates. We went up north, to Carmel.  The roads in Israel put America to shame - at least the Bay Area.  Of course they are crowded, but potholes don's seem to exist. For me many areas of the country are barely recogniseable because of all the construction.  I suppose the millions of people have to live somewhere - so high apartment buildings abound.  But still, it is beautiful, the hills are green, the wild flowers are beginning to appear. However, like California, not green enough.  It is very warm and very dry.  Again I think of my strange fate - South Africa often had droughts, Israel, California. - droughts and authoritarian governments - interesting combination - something to ponder for those of a philosophical bent.   I digress, besides visiting a moshav where native plants are rehabilitated, we went to the Druze 'village' (no longer a village - a crowded town, of Daliat Al Karmel and to a fascinating talk and visit to the art gallery of Sam Halabi.  If you are interested - google his name.

And right now it is time for me to go to the park to photograph white roses.  I am in a photography group and I am learning things about phone cameras I didn't know existed.  I may put up some photos.

PTSD

 I have self diagnosed.  I came up with PTSD as the acronym, but it stands for 

Present Traumatic Stress Disorder

and in my case it relates to the filling in of forms and questionnaires, whether online or in writing. Whether in English or in Hebrew.

I have simply HAD ENOUGH, and am on a now four day break from filling in or answering anything. I have been doing this since my decision to move from America back to Israel.  It culminated lasted Thursday when what was supposed to be an extremely easy transition from a paid for SIM card to a SIM of a phone company.  Everyone I spoke to said I could keep my present phone number - in fact there is even a law that insures this.

4 hours later - after lengthy talks with Violet, Maytal ,Yoav, and other names I cannot nor do I want to remember, I no longer had my old number.  "It is dead" said Violet, "a dead body cannot be moved to another place."  The new number given was tested (by me) and belonged to another person - then my new number didn't appear on anyone's screen, on and on - you get the picture.

Forms filled in, scanned, along with National Insurance Forms, application for Driver's License forms suddenly had me in tears, wailing, pulling out my hair, gnashing my teeth.

NO MORE FORMS I am sick, I am suffering. PTSD.  Finished. Don't ask me my name, my DOB done in a different way in Israel with the date first then the month, and this misunderstanding leading to more filling in, errors, etc. etc.

So I am taking a leave from anything to do with anything bureaucratic even if it means I will be thrown out of the country.  Tonight there is yet another demonstration in Tel Aviv - I will watch it on TV and pray for sanity, both mine, and that of the country, and the universe.

Happy New Year

 2023. -  hopefully this incoming year will bring with it a respite from the non-stop tumult of the past few years! Just a tiny ray of hope would be welcome. From my perspective, now living in a different country - it looks like there may just be a small crack of light coming in from the USA!

On a personal level, I am definitely on the path to re-nesting.  My home is quite lovely, and in the strange way of things, it feels comfortable, and quite sufficient for my needs. The strange way is how remembered things from childhood, my home, my school, the local swimming pool, were all loomed very large - then when I returned years later, they had somehow shrunk.

I am also reminded how when  I visited Israel and stayed a while, the teeny country  became bigger each day.  Drives took longer, places felt distant.  And so it has been with my new home - my postage stamp size of a garden is now quite big - enough to do landscaping.  My bedroom, which a dear friend in the USA euphemistically described as 'cosy,' is in fact, cosy and comfortable.

I have to keep a calendar for all the events and activities  happening in this geriatric summer camp.  I cannot do everything I would like. In fact, I have to continue this entry later as I am off to a lecture.

Well,  back from an interesting, informative and deeply depressing lecture entitled "Promises Promises, The Roots of the Problems in the Middle East," It was given by a resident here who is Israeli born, fluent in Hebrew, Arabic, English, and probably some other languages. He was in the army and in the Mosad. An interesting and knowledgable man with a fascinating background. Sadly - he sees absolutely no solution to the present problems. That was not a good way to begin the new year, so I will have a drink and listen to music, and toast all of you, anyway!

Let us hope .......