Last night in New York...

... at least as an official resident. Driving to Ohio in the morning, car literally packed to the brim. I'll be back before heading to Israel, surely, but... this is it. The journey begins.

Gratitude

My life is being packed into boxes. In my past, this has been something that causes me great stress. This time? I'm oddly calm. What can I live without for a year? Just about everything I own, really. Most of my books, most of my sheet music (thank you International Music Score Library!), most of my clothes, my furniture... traveling last summer for weeks at a time with only the belongings that could fit in my hiking day-pack, material possessions became so unimportant. Sure, I have my moments. And then I remember, I did not need this "stuff" weighing me down then --- quite literally, hiking around --- and I don't need it now.

But there are parts of my life that I cannot so easily pack into boxes, to safely store away for a year. Friends. Family... my communities. I am beyond overwhelmed to have the opportunity to spend a year with my chevre in Israel. I am also sad to leave my friends here, people who have been amazing lights on my journey over many years, and in many ways. But the group that has been around through this past year, supporting me through so much? You, my friends, know who you are. And I will miss your presence dearly.

A friend taught me a Hebrew word a few months ago (אם אתה קורא את זה, תודה רבה. תמיד. אבל, אני חושבת אתה יודע. ונדבר, כמובן.), during a conversation about life being overwhelming -- often, but especially so for each of us, in our own ways, at that time. It has been the mantra that I've come back to in my moments of stress and fleeting sadness. תזרום, teezrom (well, it takes various other forms it takes depending on who is being addressed...), flow. The verb shares a root with זרם, zerem, stream. Yes, Hebrew is usually pretty logical like that. It's the Hebrew equivalent of "Go with the flow," and that's what I'm trying to do. Everything flows, it will keep flowing. These things pass; they aren't static. Just like I wrote back in August, "... the waves keep coming in..." and coming, and coming, and...

And really, what I feel most of all is gratitude... simple gratitude. To those who are lights in my life, and to those who allow me to be a light in their lives. Thank you. So much.

It's surreal...

Next year in Jerusalem... not even next year, really. This year. Two months from now!

So, it's not new news at this point, but I was accepted to cantorial school, and yes, I will be moving to Jerusalem in June. The thought of leaving didn't really faze me at all until today. I officially posted my room on Craigslist. I've started packing all of the stuff that will be sent back to Ohio at the end of the month, eight years of my life in boxes. I keep catching glimpses of Lower Manhattan from my bedroom window. I'm moving. In a few weeks. For the first time in my adult life, New York will not be my home. Until last year, I couldn't imagine living anywhere else. New York was it.

But to call Jerusalem home? That will be pretty amazing. I already have an apartment: it's a 1BR, has a piano (!!!!!) and two balconies, is a two-three minute walk to school, around the corner from one dear friend, and is within a five-ten minute walk of three others. Friends from New York, friends from Livnot, and friends from my travels after Livnot last summer all live in Jerusalem. I'll have the built-in social network of my HUC Year-In-Israel cohort, but I also have a really solid group of friends there already. I shouldn't be wanting for company, that's for sure... at least not on those rare occasions that I will have time to do something other than study!

So, between now and the end of April? I pack. I get all of my books together. I figure out how the hell I am going to get everything to Israel -- including my violin and one of my guitars, both of which I want, and neither of which I am willing to check as baggage on a plane. Get all sorts of registration/administrative stuff out of the way. Arrange for my student visa. See friends. See them again... Try and stay on solid ground amidst the whirlwind...

My mom is coming up at the end of the month, both for her birthday and to drive me and my stuff to Cincinnati. I will spend a couple weeks in Ohio seeing family and friends. Back to NY for a couple days on my way to Uruguay to visit my dear, dear Tehila. New York for a week or two... then Israel, home for a year.

Come visit... הדירה שלי היא הדירה שלכם. "My apartment is your apartment." You're always welcome...

"It's been a while since I've seen you...

... so, how have you been?"

Changes are a'brewin' here. It's been an eventful fall, to say the least. Many times, I thought to write. Many times, I... didn't. I have spent the past few months learning Hebrew full-time to prepare for an important exam as part of my application for admission to cantorial school. I had been thinking about applying for awhile and made the decision at the end of October to apply for next year. Originally I thought I'd study for a few years first (so much Hebrew to learn!), but so many things fell into place over the summer and in the beginning of the fall --- personally, professionally, spiritually. The right time feels like now, not a few years from now. I took my Hebrew exam yesterday, and I feel quite confident about how I did, especially considering that I couldn't even read Hebrew when I returned from Israel this fall. Tomorrow is my audition and interview... and then I wait for a decision. It's all a bit surreal, really. If I am accepted, I'll be back in Israel in June or July, and will be there for a year. I should know, hopefully, by Pesach.

לשנה הבאה בירושלים?

It would be... amazing... beyond words...

More to come. But for now, I need to get things together for tomorrow. I leave you with a quote:

"Man's task in the world, according to Judaism, is to transform fate into destiny; a passive existence into an active existence; an existence of compulsion, perplexity and muteness into an existence replete with a powerful will, with resourcefulness, daring, and imagination."

The Rav, Kol Dodi Dofek

לילה טוב לכולם...

Time flies...

... or just exists in a completely different continuum here. It feels like it has been no time and forever since my last post. I ended up spending a few more days in Tsfat, taking in a very peaceful shabbat full of amazing conversations with new chevre, a lot of solitary study and mediation time, and, simply, peace. It is amazing how grounding shabbat can be; I always seem to find new truths, new inner strength, new wisdom (from within and from outside).

Saturday evening, my roommate and I were on Livnot's roof balcony, sharing songs, sharing conversation, when we heard music coming from the streets. We first found some former Livnot-ers playing banjo and guitar to a small crowd in an alley. We stayed for a few minutes and continued on, discovering a powerful scene in the Kikar, the square. Two guys with guitars and one with a flute, all in Tsfat studying for a few months, had started to play and sing. A huge crowd of men and boys in uniform black and white surrounded them, all soulfully singing Hebrew songs. It was honestly better than any of the concerts from the Klezmer festival just a few days before. The spontaneity, the joy... it was magnetic. We sat for hours until they finished, sometime after 1am, then headed to bed. For me, that meant the roof, where I'd been sleeping under the stars all week. There is nothing better.

Well, maybe there is... sleeping under the stars out in nature. I set out on a multi-day string of water hikes on Monday. I hitched to a Druze village about an hour from Tsfat to meet my friends (two chevre from Birthright, and one new, and instantly good, friend from another Livnot program), and start our hike. We hiked [what seemed like] straight up a mountain, only to head back down to some springs, circled around the mountain, then headed to our camping spot of the night. We made a fire -- once we located dry enough wood -- and roasted vegetables, shared quotes, and tried to sleep. Tried. Mosquitoes and barking dogs that thought it was cool to sit on sleeping humans' heads made for difficult sleeping conditions. The following day, we hiked along a river from Abbirim to near Naharia, camped on a beautiful overlook in a place called Achziv, sharing wine and watermelon on the beach. We headed to Rosh Hanikra the next day, spending our afternoon viewing beautiful grottoes and bodysurfing at the beach until sunset. We did a fair amount of hitching between places that were either un-hike-able, or just really unenjoyable hikes (along roads, through banana farms...), sometimes dancing on the side of the road to entice potential drivers. Yeah, that didn't work. But having an actor along for the ride definitely brought out my suppressed inner musical theatre self in a way that hasn't happened in a LONG time. It was fun to revisit, if only for a few days

That gets us to today. Tel Aviv. I wasn't too excited to come back here, but it's been lovely. I've gotten to catch up with some friends and spend time with new chevre. Nothing to complain about there! Tomorrow I will head to Modi'in to spend shabbat with my friend Shira, a bat sherut from Livnot, and her family. From there? Jerusalem... It's under two weeks until I leave, a thought that saddens me quite a lot, and I cannot think of anywhere else I'd rather spend my last few days in Israel. Well, last few days of this trip, anyway.

"The way of Jerusalem is a way of exaltation. She is so much more than what you see." Abraham Joshua Heschel

Up on the Roof

I started writing this post a couple days ago and, well, life in Tsfat took over and I never had a chance to finish. The brief summary: showed up Sunday to surprise my leader from Birthright and go on a hike he was leading --- and how wonderful it was to hike with him, having an hours-long conversation that was so nourishing to the soul, we ended up being surprised by chevre from the trip waiting at the bottom of the trail, it was wonderful; three days of the klezmer festival here in Tsfat, evenings of a ton of beautiful music ranging from traditional klezmer to all sorts of off-shoots, spending days at Livnot making music, reading, writing, hanging with the chevre; went on a beautiful hike yesterday with friends old and new. Now sitting here debating what the next step will be.

Next week, I will most likely be heading on a 4-5 day hike with some friends, the first chunk of the Israel trail. It is an amazing way to see the land, to really connect with people, to push myself beyond what I've done. Another new experience to savor. A long hike, pushing myself physically, mentally, spiritually beyond what I have experienced before... a long walking meditation, gratitude for every step, every moment I have, moments here, moments anywhere. I am continually reminded of how fleeting everything is, how quickly lives can change, do change.

I was reading a book by Abraham Joshua Heschel the other day and came across a quote that really resonated with me: "Living truth is the blending of the universal and the individual, of idea and understanding, of distance and intimacy, the ineffable and the expressible, the timeless and the temporal, body and soul, time and space."

This truth, whatever it is, is what I have been trying to find within myself here, what I've luckily started to see clearly again. It's an endeavor, taking this thread and adding the layers to grow it to a string, a rope, my entire being. It's probably the most important endeavor one can take on, and it should never end. Well, at least I don't think it should.

I continually offer my gratitude for this time, coming so quickly to an end. For the beautiful people I have met, and that I continue to meet. This country is, more than anything else, about the people. I will take them with me more than anything else. The land is a close second, but the people... Grateful for this time to reflect, to refind my truths, to discover new truths, to be in the moment every moment. To find intention, to move with intention, always. To experience wonder and amazement at every turn.

So grateful. So overwhelmingly grateful.

Kol tuv, everyone.

Musings

I have two songs that have been a constant accompaniment to my time here.

Kol ha'olam kulo
Gesher tzar me'od
Veha'ikar lo lefached klal.

This song is learned by Israelis when they are young; everyone knows it. They are words of wisdom from the famous kabbalist Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, set to a haunting melody. The whole entire world is a very narrow bridge and the main thing to recall is to have no fear at all. It is a message I am trying to carry with me, to keep reminding myself of as I grapple with some important life decisions, to find peace amidst the pain of closing the doors to some important players -- people and paths -- in my life (important closure, good closure, but, needless to say, not easy goodbyes).

This weight is tempered by a weight of a different kind.

There is so much magnificence in the ocean.
The waves keep coming in.

The ocean is life. The waves everything that life throws our way, sometimes gentle, sometimes rough, big, small, and in beautiful rare moments, stillness. But they never stop. I spent a good part of this afternoon sitting on a deserted stretch of the beach in Haifa, this song repeating itself in my mind.

I was having a long discussion with a friend about, well, that magnificence. Finding true self in the face of everything society says you must be, living the life you want, the raw blows, the great gifts, going inside rather than outside one's self for wisdom and knowledge, how to give back, to be a part of the magnificence. I think of the freedom, its weight, its power, that I wrote about in my first post. I think about how everything I have needed has been here for me, the synchronicities I've experienced, all of the little pieces that keep falling into place. I think of the people who have come into my life and the amazing lessons I have learned from all of them, the ways they've challenged me to grow and change, whether or not they know it. I look out over the Mediterranean Sea from a different vantage point, a hill high atop Haifa, the sun about to pass the horizon and begin shabbat, and think of that on a macro scale, all of the pieces of this world, this universe, that work together allowing us to exist at all. (And think of how odd it is that, when I logged in to write this post, I saw that a friend had written some beautiful words about this song too. Pshhhhh.)

Everything is magnificent. The good, the bad, the peaceful, the painful. It is easy to be distracted by these overwhelmingly beautiful sites, to lose sight of the magnificent small moments, too. There is this beautiful sunset behind me... but I don't need it. I can close my eyes and feel a bit of the cool evening breeze, and that's enough.

A wise man I met in Sinai said that he gets up every morning with one simple thought: being thankful for this day. It is all we have. The past is over, the future does not yet exist. All we have is this moment. How grateful I am for this moment, for every step of my journey here, whether seemingly easy or incredibly difficult. This moment. This magnificence. The balance to stay on the narrow bridge.