Yom Kipur - (another)

I have two dates that I will never ever forget. The date of Yom Kipur changes every year according to the Hebrew Calendar. The Yom Kipur War started at 2o'clock on a warm Saturday in Israel. That year the date was October 6 1973. That is the date that my life and my world changed. This year I awoke on 6th October. The sun came out like every other day. For everyone it was another day - to awake, perform morning rituals; listen to the news, drink coffee, exercise, meditate, whatever one does every morning. But I know that for me, and for everyone of a certain age in Israel, and the Middle East, it is a day that stands out crystal clear in our memories, and always will. I continued my day as I always do, but inside my head, like a tape on constant reply, I saw the events of that day. I remember the moment David Solomon came up to a group of us at the pool and said, "there is a war, turn on your radios." That was the day my husband, Raymond (Rafi) Lowenberg was killed by shrapnel from a missile fired by the Egyptian army at his bunker, Budapest, on the supposedly impregnable Bar Lev line. Usually I am in Israel at this time, but this year I am not, and so I was thinking how strange it is that for everyone here, this is just another day. But then I received a Whats App from a dear dear Israeli friend asking how today is for me. Later I came home to a message from another friend from Israel. Both of them are not presently in Israel, but for them too, this day is unique. For all of us who lived through those times, we are united by filaments of shared experiences and memories, and we shall always be, until we, too, pass from this earth.

Shrinking World

Since my ongoing purges, and upcoming move, I feel like my world is shrinking around me. My island of sanity is my bedroom, but even that is disappearing bit by bit. Down have come paintings, Amandebele beadwork, family photos - the walls resemble a face that has lost its expression. I gingerly pick my way between boxes. I have had to leave some things out of course; I still need to sleep in my bed, make my coffee, eat, wash, clean - all duties performed on the little island. Last week I was in the swamp of New York City and New Hampshire - despite the unbearably muggy conditions, a very good visit with family and friends and my absolutely delightful great niece!!!!!!! (Did I just say great niece?) My new home awaits me, all sparkling and clean. It looks so lovely I am loathe to put anything inside! Oh well, on to a new chapter.

Prescience

I take absolutely no pride in my knowing that this would be happening sometime this year. I felt it in the bone-dry winter. I felt it in the first tendrils of the fog. I knew it when homes on our street began to sell for over a million dollars. I rent an apartment in Albany which has no rent control. I have lived in my lovely townhouse for 20 years - the longest I have lived anywhere in my life. Up to now our rent has been very reasonable, although it is steadily increased each year. Each year I think, OK, still affordable, especially in the light of the sky-rocketing rents all around us. But I knew the day would come .... I am extremely thankful and grateful that, without looking even, I found a lovely affordable place just two miles from my present home. On Friday July 29th I informed my landlord that I would be moving in a month's time. He was pleased for me. Then he said that on Monday August 1st all the tenants will be receiving a courtesy notice to inform them that as of January 1, 2017 the rent will be raised by $355.00! "You can throw that letter away," he said. On Monday August 1st the letter arrived, and I threw it away.

Post Purge No. 2

Soooooo annoying, my last post was meant to be three completely different 6-word sentences, each on a new line. That is how I entered them, but that is not how they were published - a continuous run-on format! I tried to edit but the powers that be would have none of it. The best I could come up was to add a full stop at the end of each sentence. I am in a writing group and we meet once a month. A few months ago one of the members instructed us in Haiku, and we tried them. I loved the distillation - right down to the essence. On Sunday she introduced us to the 6-word memoir, and again, I love the form. The distillation, and that is what I wrote post purge. Of course my purge itself is a distillation, getting down to the absolute essentials of the 'stuff' that surrounds us. A number of people were horrified that I had thrown away both photographs and my journals. I listened to them and understood their sentiments, but I have harbored no regrets. The purge is continued - and I will report again!

Post purge no. 1

"A lifetime's memories in the trash." "Here and there, garbage is everywhere." "Memories have dispersed, floating in ether."

Purge!

I am not sitting with my head over a toilet bowl, nor am I drinking the latest cleansing liquid diet. The last few weeks have been a time of enormous serenditipous changes in my post retirement life. I did get my certificate in life coaching, yay. Cannot believe I embarked on, and completed this course, but I did, and I have a certificate to prove it! It is well known that the Bay Area, in which I have resided for an undisclosed number of years, is now probably the most expensive area to live on the planet. I am not exaggerating either. I have lived in my present apartment, which I love, for 21 years! Longer than I have lived anywhere in my life. The rent is raised every year, and pretty soon, retired me will not be able to continue to live here. Well, as a remarkable stroke of kismet would have it, I will be moving into an affordable rental just 2 miles from where I presently live. I am extremely grateful for the way this all worked out. I still have two months beore I move, but I have begun purging. Lodged tightly between the legs of a table I had bought at the Ashby Flea Market many years ago which is in my basement, under shelves containing obscene numbers of suitcases, is a trunk full of memories. Today i decided to begin my purge. I moved empty boxes which friends have brought me in anticipation of my move. I moved suitcases, I moved shoeboxes and cans of paint. I moved a rolled up piece of foam I had used as insulation under the garage door. I moved and pushed and hauled, and eventually I was able to pull the trunk toward me. Seated on an ancient little wooden bench which I brought from my cottage in Rockridge. I opened the trunk and began to go through, and throw out, all the years of my life. After six hours I threw away about 5lbs of slides (remember those things). I don't think they can be recycled, so into the trash they went. Thirty pounds, at least of photographs - South Africa, Greece, London, Europe, Recent, ancient, Montenegro, Mexico India, Israel, Israel, Israel. Family, friends, friends' children, friends' grandchildren, wedding photographs, photographs of tombstones, photos from work, my 'babies' - all gone into an enormous black plastic trash bag. Then came mementoes, I had made collages from the ash fragments of the fire in Oakland, I wrote about the Loma Prieta Quake, so many events - the change in South Africa. The Gulf War in Israel -- photographs, articles, all commemorating these historic events, all gone into the recycling bin and the trash. Clothes to go to Richmond Rescue Mission, soap molds to go to schools, crayons, paints, meditation benches, yoga bolsters, all gone. Do we need to hang on to all our stuff, our history, our memories? Hopefully the lessons we have learned, those we loved, are with us, in our hearts, our bodies, our minds and souls, until we too, move on. The great eternal mystery. All gone1

June

How did it get to be June?

How did Donald Trump come to be the presumptive republican nominee? I will not go there. All I know is that he will NOT be the next President of the United States of America.
Much of the last few months of this year were, for me, taken up by my eye! My left eye.
I suffer from glaucoma and for some unknown reason the pressure in my left eye, after having been stable for more than a year, skyrocketed. I underwent a medieval torture treatment known as needling, in which a needle was stuck into my eye and the doctor, whom I love and adore did something to the 'bleb' he had constructed in surgery a few years ago. If you don't know what I am talking about, that is fine, you are lucky, and you don't need to know. The long and the short of it all is that for at least six weeks my eye hurt and my vision was blurry. I only drove very short, well known distances, and spent minimal time with anything that has a screen. And while this was going on, Trump trumpeted, bullied, whined, lied, manipulated ........
My eye feels much better and my vision has cleared, and I pray the pressure stays down.
Other things happened. I completed a certificate in life coaching and now have to make an appropriate website for my new services!
I also became a groupie. Currently I am in an art class, a writing group, a spanish speaking group, and an enneagram group!  Me, who abhors any kind of group activity.
I had a cousin stay with me and then I went to Chicago for a few days. And now a nephew is staying with me and we are cooking, listening to music, watching movies, and discussing all matters pertaining to the arts, to life, and to death.
I feel this is a time of changes, the level of intensity seems to be revving up even more than it has been. I feel buoyed by a swift moving current and am doing my best to stay afloat ...