De-nested

 I don't think De-nested is a legitimate word, but it should be.  I can say with certainty that I have been de-nested. Besides the fact that my name is Nesta, my astrological sign is Cancer (right on the cusp of Leo) - but let us say it is Cancer.t  Cancers love their nests.  This is what makes them feel secure in this world.  Since I made the decision to uproot and move in March of this year, I have been systematically de-nested.  I made the decision, no one forced me.  No one is 'to blame.'  I made this decision, I am OK with it, but still - I have to go through this process.  

For months now I have packed and. unpacked, shedded possessions, shredded, recycled, donated. In July a lift was sent to Israel, and since then I have lived with a minimum of things, as I have written about.  Since arriving in Israel I have lived out of two suitcases.  Unsettling - along with the endless bureaucratic hassles. I had to order furniture - and wait for it.  My bed arrived 12 days early.  I now had everything I needed for my move - a bed, a fridge, a soda stream.  So I moved two nights ago - borrowed sheets, a pillow, a towel and ....... slept in my new bed, in my new home!!!!!!!!  And, I. My lift arrived yesterday slept like a log in the bed it had taken me 15 minutes to buy!!!!!!!!  

My neighbour told that before I go to sleep I must concentrate on each corner of the room and make a wish.  I was so exhausted I forgot .... until, just before I dozed off I remembered, and did what she had told me to.   She came the next morning to check whether I had done it, thank goodness I could say yes.

Everyone here has been so very welcoming - and I have help with everything.  The thing that has stumped me is my brand new smart TV - way smarter than I ever was or will be.  I have had two nights of intensive training, tonight will be the test - have I absorbed the instructions, along with the arrival of people to install the wi fi, the housekeeping, the social worker, the nurse, the neighbours, the gardeners, the cooks. Yesterday a Russian/Ukrainian team of scary looking muscular men raced in and out of my little home carrying the boxes that had been shipped almost four months before. They gave me a piece of paper with the numbers of the boxes and scurried back and forth shouting the numbers in accented hebrew and I had to tick off each box.  They slit the boxes open and drove off leaving me and brother-in-law in a state of shock.

And so the process of renesting has begun.

Fate

 With the upsetting far tilting right results of the elections in Israel this week, I have come to terms with my fate.

From the very beginning of my life I have obviously been doomed to live in extreme, almost totalitarian countries.  Just today, this morning, right now in fact, I have come to the conclusion that this is my lot in life.  I can not flee this reality, I just have to accept it. Of course I don't have to agree with it, and I will continue to live my life by my 'rules' - I will try to treat my fellow humans as such - not lesser than, not more than, with respect dignity. I will attempt to respond to some of their extremist ways with dignity also.

Of course this is far easier said than done.  Just yesterday I experienced Israeli treatment at the Ministry of the Interior.  This is an appointment that was made six months ago.  Let us just say the treatment is not at all polite or gracious.  My sister and I were confronted by a female clerk - just a small example of her manner:  she shoved forms along the counter for me to sign.  I had to read them, of course, in Hebrew. I must have taken a little longer than she cared for - she pointed to a line and said 'sign, sign here,, what is your problem.'  I signed and she grabbed them back - maybe I signed my life away, who knows.  Before I took another breath she had given me a 'valid ID card, a new passport - changed my name officially from Nesta Rovina Lowenberg, to Nesta Rovina. Mission accomplished. As we stood to leave she gave a half smile and said 'you two killed me!"  Apparently we had kept her extremely busy!  I told her that at least it had made her morning more interesting - with a half smile she bade us shalom.

A Brand New Chapter

 Goodbye to my previous chapter. 

These photos with the children are in the very home where my life in America began 42 years ago!!!!!!!!! The children were not here at that time, but their parents were.  They picked me up at San Francisco airport.  I have known their mother for 50 years.  She took me back to the airport again, and took the photos of me leaving!!!!!!

And now 

Here I am in Israel.

Physically I arrived Saturday night.  Spiritually I am between worlds, between lives, between time zones. Officially I m-a-y be here by the end of November - hopefully with the necessary documents required for my new life here.

So please don't ask, and I know everyone is asking from a place of love and concern, and sincere enquiry - "Are you settled?"   Of course I am not settled.  It will take a long time for the clouds and sands of time and world to begin to settle and reshape.  

I felt loved and supported in the farewells, and I feel loved and supported in the welcomes.  This is enough for now.

Countdown

As the date of my departure looms closer, it feels like time is moving by even more quickly than it normally does.

The excruciating process of farewells has begun.  As painful as it is, to part from those who have been in my life for a long while, it is also heartwarming.  One forgets, with the passage of time, the part we play in each others' lives - in my case, friends, of course, but also the families and the children I have worked with.  It is so gratifying to know that I made an important contribution in their development.

15 years ago I was referred to twin girls born prematurely.  Their parents were Pakistani and were fairly new in this country.  The girls were diagnosed as failure to thrive, along with hypersensitivity, retinopathy, delayed development -  the problems of prematurity.  I saw them once a week (cuts had been made, and we could no longer see the children twice or three times a week.) The mother, of course, was overwhelmed.  She had no support  as her family were in Pakistan.  The dad worked  at a garage 7 days a week.  Slowly I began to really enjoy my visits. The mother cooperated in their treatment.  We had long talks, and the girls  smiled when I walked in.  They had lustrous black hair and lovely eyes.  One day I walked in - I didn't see them.  The mother pointed to the swing on the balcony - and there were two hard boiled eggs!  On closer observation I saw it was the girls - the parents had shaved their heads completely!  Quite a few cultures did this before the age of one in the belief that the hair will be thicker and stronger.  As ever, I became quickly accustomed to anything.

Yesterday when I went to say goodbye I found were two lovely, thriving, articulate teenagers with shining long black hair. They are in high school after the 2 year covid hiatus. They are eager students and are already looking toward college.  The mom made a lovely henna design on my hand. I had made an imprint in their lives and she made an imprint on me. 

 I awoke this morning with a feeling of warmth and gratitude.  I played an important part in many lives, and if I weren't saying goodbye, I would not have realised this. My hand is a reminder.

So this process of letting go is bittersweet, but ultimately it 'sparks joy.'  (yes Marie Kondo, the decluttering expands to many aspects of our lives.) 

The End of an Era

 I was born in a country which was part of the Commonwealth.  

We were raised with singing God Save The Queen in morning hymns.  It was played in the bioscope.  We didn't have television in South Africa, but the grainy footage in black and white of the coronation was shown in the bioscope.  I had colouring in books of the Royal family and their pets - the Corgis, and the Queen's horses. South Africa left the Commonwealth in 1961,  but our interest in the monarchy has not waned.  

And so this morning found me in Marshalls, looking at luggage when my phone chimed.  It was my sister, and her first words were "where are you?"    I knew something had happened and immediately my mind began clicking onto all the dreadful scenarios I could come up with.  

"The Queen died."   

And so we have reached the end of an era.

All Gone

 

And just like that .......

In two hours - everything gone, in a 200 cu. ft. container.

What I don't think will be gone in such a short time is the feelings that come over me every couple of hours over the last few months.  A feeling that is hard to describe, sort of between horror, or a sinking feeling - a quickening of my breath, a racing of my heart - 'where is ...? Did I pack it? and if so, in which box? and why? A racing through taped boxes, a fumbling through objects - where is it, my keys, my passports, a necklace, a pair of shoes, a painting, my glasses.   And now, when the feeling overcomes me as I am sure it will, "too late now - I can't go and unpack everything again - too bad - didn't need it anyway, "

And now, what am I going to do with my time?  

And just like that ......

So after the packers drove away I went on a long meandering walk up and down the hills of El Cerrito.  It is summer and a heavy layer of fog lies over the bay - Mt. Tam, the Golden Gate, and San Francisco appear then disappear. Mounds of dirt from busy gophers crumble onto sidewalks.  Concrete fences erected to shore up the gardens on the inclines tilt precariously. Hollyhocks and roses - loquat trees, bushes of rosemary, the leaves of the silver birch tree hang down  shining green and silver and grey like a pendant of jewels, magnolia trees still flowering, the jacarandas spread their purple carpets that are now turning brown, and crunch underfoot.  How I love this area, and these views, and these walks.  I will continue to savor them while I can.

AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH

 

This is what I have been doing, in between going to banks, recycling centres, shredding pounds of paper, making trips to the El Cerrito Recycling Center, Out of The Closet, Center for Creative Reuse. Back and forth, forth and back. Packing, unpacking, packing again, unpacking again, peering at documents on the computer, wiping my leaking eye, signing documents.   

Listening to the hearings in the background. Healing hours spent doing art, and more healing times making forays to the wonderful and inspiring Museums that we are blessed with.  Walking in the beautiful neighbourhood listening to easy books. Playing the spelling bee, avoiding the terribly depressing barrage of the news of our falling apart world.

All above is, I think, a good excuse as to the reason I have been quiet for so long!