On my way to Israel #1
Memories
On my way to Israel #2
The Mountain Top
The Mountain Top
Navigation week at Mechinat Beit Yisrael- Togetherness
As part of the mechina I did during my first year in Israel, I participated in a weeklong navigation training trip in the Judaean desert. We mapped out our own routes and hiked through the mountains. The first day we hiked together with our entire group of 60 people. Every day after that we were split into teams of four and continued to hike more and more removed from the others, sleeping far from one another, searching for water and making our own food. On the last night, we didn’t even sleep with our teams. We were each entirely alone (within eyesight of others, but far) and were responsible for building our own shelter, making our own dinner, and keeping out any desert creatures during our sleep.
On November 8th, 2016, the last morning of the trip, I woke up from a deep sleep under the stars to the results of the US elections. When I heard, I fell to the ground feeling totally scared and powerless. After days of determination and independence, I was literally brought to my knees by the announcement that would change the world.
The people around me, my friends and my counselors, lifted me from the ground and held me. They told me, having no idea if it was true, that everything would be okay. And like this, surrounded by people who showed me such grace and care, and who literally helped me stand on my feet, we started to pack up the camp and walk forward.
I looked up towards the top of the gigantic mountain we were to climb as I stood at its base. The sky was clear and the air was dry. My muscles ached after a full week of hiking and navigating through the desert. There were patches of sunburn on the backs of my knees and all over the back of my neck. My mind ached, trying to find peace. My heart was broken. I felt lost and overtaken by what was going on beyond the edges of the landscape.
But I knew that I could get up that mountain on my own. I let go of those who had walked by my side, and began to hike upward. One foot in front of the other, I made my way up that hill. I felt tears flood my eyes and the sun dry dirt against my face as they fell down my cheeks. But I kept walking. I kept going. The world was collapsing but I would get myself to the top of that mountain.
24.11.2021 ON FB
I have been working toward the anniversary of my release from the military since the day I chopped up my ID card and left. I’ve been writing a lot and processing a lot, trying to remember who I am and why I make the choices I do. I’ve been writing the last essay of this series for weeks, waiting for the end to fall into place, to come to some sort of conclusion of the work I’ve been doing all year long. And then Eli (Kay) was killed on Sunday, and this week no longer felt like a celebration of freedom and joy. It became a week of shock and mourning. Together with friends, I spent the anniversary of my release at a funeral of this sweet boy. He was an extraordinary friend; he was a farmer; he was a lover of life. It’s weird to talk about him in past tense, so I won’t. Maybe this isn’t how I was expecting to share this essay. But when Mama Tav says I should share, I do. It’s kind of long, and writing it surprised me in a good way. I honestly thought it would end differently, but things don’t always end the way we think they will. Last night friends took me out for hot chocolate and soup- hot chocolate to celebrate my release and soup to comfort the soul. Here’s a picture of me with the shoko and below is the essay. L’chaim. A. D. Gordon writes that in order to become a part of the reconciliation between the Jewish People with the Land of Israel, one must overcome one’s “inner galut” and set out on a new path to become bonded with the historic homeland of the Nation of Israel. Collective redemption or “geula” can only occur once each individual claims their torah and purpose, relinquishes their individuality (their “inner galut”), and participates in the greater arrival to a higher plane of being. This is not to say that everyone must be exactly the same; rather the opposite. Each individual, in following their own path and not allowing themselves to deviate from it, contributes to the greater good of The People. Here, Gordon claims that selfish motives, encouraged by the inner constitution of “otherness”, have no place in the building of a Jewish State. Instead, he describes that pursuing one's passions in a selfless manner, on behalf of the greater good, raises the quality of the project-that is, the creation of a state of formerly diaspora-identifying Jews. What does this really mean? How is it possible to differentiate between the parts of ourselves that we have had to build as people living for so long in a world where Jewish-ness equals other-ness? What does it look like to free ourselves from the internalized separation of self from cultural norm? When considering the concept of nation building, how can we think of ourselves as both a greater entity, and also as individual contributors – all of whom become a part of this holy endeavor only by being our true selves? When I decided to make Aliya, a serious part of that process was in realizing the miracle of listening to my inner voice and following through with the mundaneness of living my values. My inner galut was, and continues to be, the voice of judgement; the voice that says I alone am responsible for saving the world, for repairing all pain, for overcoming every obstacle. It’s the overachiever, the perfectionist. It is the aggressive observer of others, the version of myself that credits people not based on their character, but on what they can quantitatively provide. Before, I thought the most important things I could do would go directly onto my resume. Until now, I could always list my accomplishments, but never my hobbies. Aliya was the decision to release my inner galut, to listen to who I really am and who I want to be. My Aliya doesn’t stop with the declaration of citizenship in this place. It is an ongoing process of releasing that galut, and contributing to a bigger, more meaningful attempt to bring wholeness to the Jewish People. As Gordon writes, by following my inner path and not the path of my galut, I can belong to the renewed Jewish nation and do sacred work. But, let’s be realistic: It is so hard! It has taken a lot of self-reflection and work on myself to feel satisfied with where I am in this process. All year I have been attempting to reconnect and trust my inner voice again-to limit self-critique, to open myself to people and experiences, to sustainable sources of joy as a way of remembering why I made this decision to leave my galut behind. Today, a few days after the first anniversary of my release from the army, I am grateful for the journey of releasing myself from the confines of the galut I have known for so long. I am in a place of stronger inner stability. I am actively learning again. I love the people in my life, and they bring so much sanctity to my little community. I have a home that I love, and that is full of life. Every day I am reminded of the galut within and the galut of the Jewish People. But with every passing day, I am also reminded that each of us can only become a part of the kibbutz galuyot if we are ready to do the work. And that takes time. Sometimes even thousands of years. I am learning that when we return to Zion, we can truly live like dreamers.
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