I focus my experiencing and awareness on being
"a   pioneer of  Evolution  in  learning  to  feel":
I let my Body vibrate and my Heart 'womb'
pain, shame, fear, boredom, powerlessness,
so feelings can >heal >guide>fulfill>evolve,
and ~~~ offer ~~~"goldmines"~~~ to us all!!
"I want you to feel everything, every little thing!"

8:15
My Body, my Partner,
though you feel a bit shaky and need to breathe more,
thank you for having slept with me for 8 full hours,
interrupted only once by the noisy builders outside,
who obviously had to work in the middle of the night,
because they had to cut off the electricity of the entire area.
But we stood up on your healthy legs,
and closed the window with your healthy arms,
and lay down again on your healthy belly
and fell asleep right away.

Thank you Mika,
that you - together with your funny games of rejection -
("lekhi, satta"=go away grandma, or "duzi, duzy, satta" =zuzi=move)
ran with such eagerness to my room, -
took all our little boxes from the little table,
asked to be lifted on my high bed,
and then played so sweetly - over and over again - with our tiny treasures.
You did this ritual - with its ever new creative turns - 3 times
once when we arrived with the car, in which you took me from the train,
once between Imma's Good Night story and our Good Night Song,
and once, when you were ready for kindergarden , with your shoes on,
but asked me to take them off - just for those few minutes - and I did.

A Dream:

After gigantic, rushing activities, which involved many people,
I dare to gather around me some seven "partners" -
(with bystanders, whose judgments I fear even more),
and tell them this:
"We are all interwoven in such a way,
that when one person breaks through
to accomplish great things for all,
there will be a terrible regression for all."

I wanted to say what the alternative option was,
but the tumult of my fear and shame
reflected in the tumult around me
drowned the rest....

When I was alone with myself,
I was too tired to do anything creative on K.i.s.s.-L o g ,
and "used the time"
to read Jean Hudon's recent e-mail,
in this case an accumulation of "spiritual messages".
I tried to be as non-judgmental as possible
and glean the grains which will nourish me.

Still the very terms "spiritual", "ascencion" etc
are difficult to tolerate.
The magnetic pole, "Will", "Feelings&Emotions" is non-existent.


At 22:10 a documentary in 3SAT
"Japan, the Marathon Monk of Kyoto"
showed the same tendency,
but in a more perplexing manner.

The3SAT preview (see left)
only mentions the harshness of what this Japanese ascetic does:
["Babylon" explains the term like this:
one who practices self-denial for spiritual discipline]
Every night he runs from 30 to 84 km,
until - after 7 years - he will have accomplished 38000 km.
If he should collapse and stop, he will have to kill himself.
A weapon for this purpose is always with him.

The doc demonstrates vividly,
what torture and torment are inflicted on Body,
verily the very embodiment of denial of Body.

[Compare this treatment of Body with the message on
puzzle piece 9 BODY, the Master Healer of Creation, and in "Body is God"]

But there was much more to it:
There is one day, when the monk runs through the town.
So that the people may run with him, or kneel before him.
"He does this for me too", they say.
And sensing people's yearning in this belief,
tears of compassion come to my eyes now.

There were scenes with two other monks,
one of them had accomplished the run even twice in his life.
He was now75 years old,
a man of such beauty and radiating wholeness,
that I wished he could be "my" man.
The other monk - now 90 - explained and convinced me!
"that after a night of running one feels,
that this one day is like the entire life.
And each day is different."
The passing of each day = each life is symbolized
in the straw sandals which last just for one night!

Nella, the dog, and I were on our way back,
when Diana and I parted.
I must have been so immersed in thinking about that encounter,
an encounter via the phone after all!
that the weirdest thing happened to me:
I entered the house,
I even had seen - or so it seemed to me - the number 51,
and wondered that there was no light in the staircase,
and we had to use the elevator.
Coming out of the elevator, I lit the light in the corridor of 4 flats,
and walked straight to "our" flat, opened the door,
and what do I see: a woman in front of the TV.
I was appalled! "I'm so sorry, it's the wrong flat!"

I took the elevator down again,
and there I got totally confused.
Everything seemed to be the same as in our house,
the corridor, the parking lot,
but on "our" lot a car was parking,
"this can't be - Efrat's car is with her at work".
It took some more moments,
until I found my way out,
even the little trees were the same,
except that they weren't small oranges (for my jam...), but small lemons.
Outside I finally recognized my error.
Maybe our house bears the number 55, not 51?

Writing this, it looks like I had an attack of Altzheimer.

But I believe the experience pointed to what happened next,
not with concern to the content though,
well I can't explain it.

I returned to my computer and said to myself::
"I haven't opened my e-mail yet!"
Among all the junk mails I see I name I haven't seen for a long time.
Victor Barr! A real star on Healing-K.i.s.s.!
His voice is among those who sing to that dance animation
at the entry to last years library
InteGRATion into GRATeFULLness !

I opened his letter.
No greetings, no words,
but a link which made my heart pound with joy and hope:
www.freewill.co.il
Wardit (now Dvorah) Bar-Ilan, once my pupil, once my friend,
the one whose home is the Salt Sea just like it is mine,
and most important - the midwife of my DesertVision'
has a team of six partners, and a website, about
Right Use of Will!

Noah's Diary- Twelfth Week of Realization-2004_02_23

I'm investing too much energy and hope
in achieving communication through words.
Isn't it ironic, that I reached this conclusion exactly at a time,
when I fulfilled the dream of being able
to communicate with the entire planet from my tiny cave?

If communication happens, it is sheer grace.
it has very little to do with my effort, talent and skill.
There is an abyss between the context,
in which something is said
and the context, in which something is heard.


I know: there are at least three "wedges"
which hamper my communicating with people:
a) my panic, people might not listen to me,
which makes me talk and write in a way that I create just what I fear;
b) my need "to discharge" the pain in my experiences,
without first asking people's consent to listen to my feelings;
c) my ego need to be appreciated for what I do,
or my ego need to be recognized as "sane" and "normal";
But even if I would "get rid of" theses wedges,
even then I would not be able to really convey and communicate,
what I want to convey and to communicate.


45 years ago I blamed the biblical prophets
for not having given consideration to the way they communicated their message.
They reproached, they blamed, they threatened.
"No wonder, they made people furious
instead of making them change their self-destructive ways."

How pathetic has been my ongoing attempt to apply the Theory of Communication:
"Communication is not added to the message, communication IS the message. "
45 years of refining my ways of communication
have finally brought me the sad understanding:
Mental, verbal communication is intrinsicly, inherently, impossible.

I remember a poem by Hermann Hesse about a Zen-Master,
who - in time - refrained from all words.
But sometimes, when he would just lift a finger,
a pupil would be shaken to the depth of his being and transformed.

How can I, who believes in the healing through physical sound,
how can I who heals through writing/sculpting my experiences,
how can I just lift my finger?

16:12
There is a wonderful woman,
to whom I want to give thanks today,
since it would have been her birthday,
if she were alive:

:
January 9, 1919,
Dr. Annemarie Mayer

[how strange that 3 days ago I was reminded
of that peasant woman with the similar name:
Anna Meyer]

It was in this house at Weilheim, near Tuebingen, Germany,
where many a drama was acted out
with Annemarie and Reinhold Mayer,

but the most important gift from Annemarie
was a passage in a letter which she wrote to me in Israel:
"If you fill a small circle
(like the responsibility for your family),
the circle will expand by itself.
One true full-fill-ment is better than an endless dispersion."