As I said at the end of "My Birthday-Trauma":
"The reaction
- which did not come as a surprise,
but neither could it be avoided
- was such,
that I had to enter another major trauma of mine:
My "Godesh" - in Hebrew -
or in English:
My "BEING TOO MUCH"

Before I'll go on with this page - if ever -
I want to dedicate a separate page to the documents,
which witnessed my predicament a year ago.
Part of the solution is indeed "ceasing to manifest",
but there is another part to it,
which is to accept my BEING TOO MUCH wholly,
even if this causes so much pain to others and to myself.

(2)

(1)

And it was there, that Erez, who rarely seemed to talk to the point,
and who himself flooded his collocutors with information,
mostly from his well of Qabbalah (the Jewish mystical tradition),
astounded not only me, but the others too.
In a nutshell:

"Like Moses - you must not water down your message.
You must always be YOU
and say always exactly what you need to say.
What people are capable of hearing and understanding
will not help them.
What you have to say, needs to be first interpreted, that is true.
Moses' message has been interpreted
for more than 3000 years now,
over and over again by more and more people.
Aaron is necessary, yes, but as a separate person,
not as part of you.
You must be YOU."

"The next day - 39 years after I had given birth to my daughter –
I glued a hook to the ceiling - exactly above the water container
and hang on it my wooden, moving spiral, once a gift from Ronnit.
And on the oval sticker of the mineral water company I glued a composition,
cut out from one of Immanuel's brochures about "Succah in the Desert",
which says:
"What makes the desert so beautiful,
that somewhere it hides a well".
The Little Prince.

There was more 'godesh' to this letter,
which I put aside even earlier as "not relevant", though for me important:

"Partnership Diary", 1977, 163-166, continued
~~~~ [first insert in Learn&Live 7, last in Closeup to my Past]

"Liberty through Responsibility", 1975, page 59, continued
[first insert in Learn&Live 6, last in Closeup to my Past]

"Partnership Diary", 1977, 166-167

"Liberty through Responsibility", 1975, page 60-62

I didn't keep this promise!
We did organize ourselves as a group, as an NGO,
and from then on I was much less effective than before.
At least 60 % of my work had to be invested (wasted?)
in keeping up the organization....

My photo of an Atlantic Oak in the Desert
inspires me to add a poem by someone,
though I no longer have to pray for this:
I have, indeed, slowed down since 1977
or even since 1997, or even since 2007,
and I'm slowing down - NOW -
on 2011/01/01


Slow me down, Lord.

Ease the pounding of my heart by the quieting of my mind.
Steady my hurried pace
with a vision of the eternal reach of time.

Give me, amidst the day’s confusion,
the calmness of the everlasting hills.

Break the tensions of my nerves and muscles
with the soothing music of singing streams
that live in my memory.

Help me to know the magical, restoring power of sleep.

Teach me the art of taking “minute vacations”~~
of slowing down to behold a flower,
to be and talk with a friend,
to comfort an animal,
to contemplate a few lines from a sacred book,
and to listen to the song of birds...

Remind me of the fable of the hare and the tortoise;
that the race is not always to the swift;
that there is more to life than measuring its speed.

Let me look up at the branches
of the towering oak
and know that it grew slowly and well.
Inspire me to send my own roots down
deep into the soil of life’s endearing values;
That I may grow towards the stars
and unfold my greater destiny.

On the rock above the Mediterranean Sea,
north of Kibbutz Ga'ash, June 1989:
Mona, my lover for 7 years, came from Germany
and while visiting her family , also visited me.
The frame of the slide says:
"Reconciliation concerning Maya".
Maya had been the wild dog,
which I had adopted in May 1986,
even before I started to live in my bus,
since "a watch-dog" was Mona's condition,
to let me live such a dangerous life.

I'm not a fan of domestic animals,
but in time I got used to Maya
and was grateful to her
for sharing my solitude
and for truly guarding me.

But in summer 1988 something happened:
I was sitting above the Sea,
surrounded by other people, perhaps my children,
when a big and beautiful dog came
and - simply - leaned against my back.
I chased her away several times,
but she refused to leave me.
The next day I led her to a vet and asked him
to find a home for her.
But after 3 days he called me
(yes I had a cable-less phone then!)
and said: "I can't find anyone !
If you don't take her, I have to kill her."

This I could not let happen.
I returned to the vet,
and while walking down his steps with the dog,
I knew, that I would want to call her "Larqa",
L - for laughter, R- for Rachel
and Qa as a Eastern European syllable of endearment.

In November 1988 I went north to visit Wardit Bar-Ilan,
the architect, pupil and friend,
through whom I had received the inspiration of
what later became "Succah in the Desert".
I went there alone for a weekend, without Channah.
Suddenly I got a phone-call from her:
"Maya left the area of our busses,
ran into the highway (some 300 m from there)
and got herself killed.

It took me 3 years to really overcome my grief,
and Mona, of course, was not only grieved, but angry.
I knew, of course, that two dogs in one bus were too much,
and that it had been Maya's decision "to relieve me" of her.
But it was only in the Succayah, that I saw her wisdom:
There she would have driven the guests away!
There no watchdog was needed but Larqa,
who taught everyone "how to let ourselves be loved!"