The Purpose  of   HEALING - K.I.S.S.

- as stated 12 years ago - was and is

  to help me and my potential P E E R s 

"to HEAL ourselves into WHOLEness,

and - by extension - all of CREATion!"
Intro to Healing-K.i.s.s. 2001-2013
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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!"

 

 

 

K.I.S.S. - L O G    2 0 0 8
Keep It Simple Sweetheart

whole&full-filled, never perfect&complete

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February 5, Tuesday - between Arad and Shoham

back to past ~~~~~ forward to future

 

 

image of the day


 

 

Coming back from the morning-pool
I am finding this "skype" announcement.
On the average I get one quest like this
from Arab countries per day,
but this time I sat there for a while pondering,
if I should answer.
Hassan wrote the cryptic words~~~~~~~:
"I'm writing a letter in order to get to know you.
I won't forgive you as long as I live
Is this your experience with life?"

I decided to follow my present principle
of not getting involved in any interaction

,
which does not promise daily continuity
of the "Healing-Learning PEERSHIP" I yearn for.
Also,                                wants to communicate in Arabic,
while I've given up investing superhuman efforts to conquer:


 


hodayot [thanksgivings] for today

8:40
My Body, my Partner,
I give thanks to our neck, its blood-vessels, nerves and joints,
remembering one excruciating attack of "stiffness" in 1986,
when - following a talk-show with me on TV- a man wrote and invited me,
to park my bus in his orchard and live there for a while unharassed by authorities,
but who himself harassed me and when I did not succumb ,
evicted me despite my physical immobility.

 

I give thanks to all the "bugs" which I attract into my daily drama,
and I ask our neck to no longer be

[see an article about the "hard neck" of "God's people" in the Bible with the title]

but - when irritated by a "bug" - to immediately turn around
and discern the blessing in the curse, the fruitful in the frightful!


I'll not communicate with MY PEER today.
Though I've only recently promised myself
to savor such communication daily from now on,
and did so with the elation of a heart in love,
I now feel estranged and cold and closed.

So I'll have to do my "Finetuning to My Present" alone:

"Finetuning to My Present" in the morning - 11:00 at Arad!!!!



The second "bug" yesterday, late at night, was this:

I had successfully recorded my "color-song" with the software "SoundForge",
and now only needed to attach it to one of my two present "Sound-buttons",
a green chacra, and a spiral,
After Immanuel had taught me the process of doing this with the software "Flash",
the ten steps or so took not more than a minute.
But now, after Immanuel had installed my old, but familiar version of "Flash"
on the new computer,
I couldn't find the "Sound-Panel", try as I might.


It was already 22:40
and I wanted to watch the 9th episode of the series "Arab Work".
This time I was eagerly awaiting the break for commercials
and when it came, I hurried to skype Immanuel, ashamed to disturb him so late,
especially since he had to go on flight the next early morning.
He answered:
"Aren't you watching 'Arab Work'?"
Last week, at Shoham, I recommended this program, poor as it is.

During this and the second break he discovered what the bug was,
and I could close the day with a very satisfying sound-images sculpture.

But what was the "purpose" of having been forced to disturb my son?
When the technical bug had disappeared,
and I had wished him a good flight,
he remembered sharing with me a great joy:

" the encounter between Tomer and Ro'ee was excellent."

In the morning I had utilized my skyping to him about the first bug
- the probably loss of the memory card of my cellphone-
to tell him all I felt permitted to tell
about the weekend interactions between Tomer and me,
emphasizing some things, to which his father should pay special attention to.

In the evening Immanuel drove to Tel-Aviv to bring Tomer and Ro'ee together.
The idea is, that this son of one of Efrat's friend, a kindergardener age 25,
would be Tomer's coach for 5 hours 3 times a week.
Tomer was afraid, that a "shadow" might be attached to him,
and it was our prayer, that there would be an emotional "click".

Just before my skype-call about the "sound-panel" ,Tomer called Abba:

"It was so 'cool', that I already long for the next meeting on Thursday."

Before that Tomer had asked again to be returned to "Geha",
and his father had told him what I , too, had said to Tomer:

"Now that you experienced what environment is calming you,
we must find out about such an environment outside 'Geha',
which is after all a psychiatric hospital for sick people,
and you are not sick, you are only terribly frustrated."


Immanuel and I mentioned again the "boarding-school option",
like "Neradim", an SOS Children's Village right here in Arad,
about which I had informed him already .

What I felt was joy and grate-full-ness, Immanuel's and my own.
I wouldn't have received this closure of the day unless that bug in "Flash"....


 

"Finetuning to My Present" in the evening -22:21 - at Shoham!!!!

Little did I know, that the flexibility of my "neck" would be tested today,
and I must admit, that in the middle of the test I failed ...
This time it was not a technical bug,
which seemed to waste my time and to prove me my dumbness

(Immanuel - and so many gifted men before him - said:
"Look it is really easy, why can't you....")
but an extraordinary mess in my travel route to Shoham.

Since my childhood traveling has been immensely stressful for Body.
be it by car, by bus or even by train, so there I can at least stand up.
Therefore any additional hardship on a journey is hard to accept.
Today the hardship exceeded my ability to turn the frightful into the fruitful.


I arrived at Beersheva bus station, passed over to the train station
and - - - - - - found all its glass doors closed.
No trains today.

[They double and improve a certain rail passage].


It was not the first time and I could have learnt from past experience.
But the purpose of today's "travel bug" was not to teach me this...
Even if a "bug" is the result of carelessness and lack of attention,
my Higher Self, the producer and director of my daily drama,
only utilizes the carelessness to introduce a "bug" into the play.
If a "bug" is needed, some other circumstance would have been found,
even if I had carefully inquired about the train's schedule.

I went back to the bus-station, intending to take the bus to Tel-Aviv,
and from there to take the train south again to the airport train station,
where I usually arrive and from where Efrat was supposed to fetch me.
But the crowds awaiting the bus from Beersheva to Tel-Aviv were such,
that I turned away in dismay and caught a bus to Jerusalem,
asking the driver to let me off as close to Shoham as possible.
It was a driver with a black kippa, he never heard about Shoham...

"It's close to the airport!" I needed to explain
and together we decided that I should get off at Nakhshon junction.

And from there?
Another bus and more cars than I could could count and miles of walking...
I even sat into a taxi for 3 minutes, until the driver said,
he didn't feel like going to Shoham, and anyway it would cost 100 NIS.
So I got out again, only to fall into the worst of traps:
the driver, with whom I hitchhiked didn't know where to let me off.
He didn't tell me, that the road from Modi'in would became "Highway 1".

"So where is there a junction?" I asked in despair.
"Only close to Tel-Aviv or --- maybe here - there's a sign "to Lod"."
He let me out,
but there was no junction, there was just the highway,
and it was dark now.
No taxi came along, and hitchhiking was impossible, even forbidden there.
I was lost, like I was lost in the snow covered forests of the Pyrenees.
All my sense of orientation had vanished.
I walked and walked along the endlessly streaming vehicles,
until a highway "to Petach-Tikva" split off from the highway number 1.
I walked and walked and reached a T-junction, highway number 40,
to the right: Petach-Tikva, to the left: to Lod.
I remembered that road 10, 20, 30, 40 years ago....
How can one cope with these racing highways everywhere.

Efrat called me again, she would ask a taxi-driver at Shoham, she knew.
I waited and waited at that T-junction, cars turning north or south.
and a ditch ran behind me, filled with muddy rain-water,
a rude choir of frogs added to the weirdness of the situation..
"For what purpose did I stage this?" I asked inside.
To my surprise the answer was right there:


"You must adapt to this racing of your time-period.
It is not enough that you know your way around in the desert,
and have no problem to hitchhike on familiar routes .
You set this experience up in order to train yourself!
Just like you agreed to repair your cellphone not at Beersheva but at Modi'in,
so that you would need to take your children's car and remember driving."


It was then, that Efrat's taxi-driver called me.
"I'm too far away from you, but you are on an excellent spot!
Turn north and you'll soon reach "El-Al Junction!"


Suddenly it was easy: I turned into the road to Petach-Tikva,
I lifted my hand, and the 5th or 6th car stopped, an old man.
When I told him my destination, he was annoyed :

"Wouldn't it have been good for your health,
if you had walked that short distance?"


I defended myself: "If you knew how much I walked before",
but we were already at El-Al Junctin and he let me off.
At the bus station there a soldier told me,
that a bus from the airport to Shoham was due in 13 minutes.
But I didn't have to wait that long,
a car stopped to let a woman enter, I asked, if I could come with them,
and they drove to Shoham and let me off 3 minutes from my destination.



Efrat and Mika were at a Sound and Movement activity and not home.
This permitted me some 20 minutes to "catch my breath".
When they came, I I was in my room and did not meet them half way
So Mika came around to my open door, calling: "Racheli, Racheli",
and meeting me even wanted to be taken on my lap for a second.

Most of the time she doesn't want to be held by anybody.
It was as if she knew, that I needed some consolation....

 

The bus-route from Arad via Shoket junction to Be'er Sheva
and the road along the train track from Be'er Sheva to Lehavim/Rahat:


The road goes further north and passes by KiryatGat.
My bus to Jerusalem drove through all its neighborhoods, but did NOT pass by the train-station...!!!
If it had, I could have taken the train from there.

The bus then returned to the road north, passes through the Kiryat Malachi Junction, better known by its pre-Israel name (forgot)
goes on to Re'em Junction, better known by its pre-Israel name (forgot)
from where the bus turned to the east - through Tal Shahar and Yesodot - and let me off at Nachshon Junction.
Since the only relevant map in English I 've discovered now, is this "Touring Map of Israel",
"Mini Israel" is high-lighted, while Kibbutz Nachshon, important in Israel's history as well as in my own, is left out,
as well a "Neve-Shalom" and the Latroun Junction next to the Latroun Trappist Monastery.
Why on earth "Sha'alavim" on the way to Modi'in was important for the map-makers , I don't know.



The last, most difficult passage through the Lod-PetachTikva Junction, can not even be guessed from this section.


There were a few highlights after all:
Somebody, I don't remember if it was a bus or a car, let me off at Latroun junction.
I walked up the road into the direction of my journey - as I always do when hitchhiking -
and this is what I saw: when I turned back: a glorious sunset.
It was from this perspective - turning back - that I also got a glimpse of the Latroun Trappist Monastery.

 

Finally a car stopped - a religious woman, but after a few moments she turned into the highway to Jerusalem,
and I had to get off again.




The next car was driven by a religious man and his two kids who were reading the prayerbook.
He let me off at the junction to his big village "Sha'alavim".


There is a personal story connected with Latrun , as there is a personal story connected with Sha'alavim, but no time to tell .

From the same junction - before running to the other side to lift my hand again - I saw the following image:
A huge bridge under construction - for the train to Jerusalem - changing the familiar view.
I had seen this view so often in the years 2001-2004,
when I lived at Modi'in and took my daughter's kids to the pool at Neve-Shalom or to the Canada Forest,
or when I hitchhiked to "Succah in the Desert".during the "Desert Peacse Process", for instance.

 

 

 

Nourishment from Others

The radical loser, 2005, Translation: Nicholas Grindell.

Following the renewed experience with Tomer,
and the self-victimisation of young people in Western countries in general,
and "terrorists" in the Middle East in particular,
I want to study this article, which I discovered "by chance"
:

"The article appeared in German in Der Spiegel on November 7, 2005. "Hans Magnus Enzensberger is one of modern Germany's most interesting and celebrated writers. Among his books of poetry are "The Sinking of the Titanic" and "Mausoleum". His prose works include "Europe, Europe" and "Civil Wars".


Hans Magnus Enzensberger
looks at the kind of ideological trigger required to ignite the radical loser - whether amok killer, murderer or terrorist - and make him explode.

I. The isolated individual

It is difficult to talk about the loser, and it is stupid not to. Stupid because there can be no definitive winner and because each of us, from the megalomaniac Bonaparte to the last beggar on the streets of Calcutta, will meet the same fate. Difficult because to content oneself with this metaphysical banality is to take an easy way out, as it ignores the truly explosive dimension of the problem, the political dimension.

Instead of actually looking into the thousand faces of the loser, sociologists keep to their statistics: median value, standard deviation, normal distribution. It rarely occurs to them that they themselves might be among the losers. Their definitions are like scratching a wound: as Samuel Butler says, the itching and the pain only get worse. One thing is certain: the way humanity has organized itself – "capitalism", "competition", "empire", "globalization" – not only does the number of losers increase every day, but as in any large group, fragmentation soon sets in. In a chaotic, unfathomable process, the cohorts of the inferior, the defeated, the victims separate out. The loser may accept his fate and resign himself; the victim may demand satisfaction; the defeated may begin preparing for the next round. But the radical loser isolates himself, becomes invisible, guards his delusion, saves his energy, and waits for his hour to come.

.....At last, this radical loser – he may be just fifteen and having a hard time with his spots – at last, he is master over life and death. .....

But anyone wishing to understand the radical loser would be well advised to go a little further back. Progress has not put an end to human suffering, but it has changed it in no small way. Over the past two centuries, the more successful societies have fought for and established new rights, new expectations and new demands. They have done away with the notion of an inevitable fate. They have put concepts like human dignity and human rights on the agenda. The have democratized the struggle for recognition and awakened expectations of equality which they are unable to fulfil. And at the same time, they have made sure that inequality is constantly demonstrated to all of the planet's inhabitants round the clock on every television channel. As a result, with every stage of progress, people's capacity for disappointment has increased Accordingly.

.... Since the desire for recognition knows no limits, the pain threshold inevitably sinks and the affronts become more and more unbearable. The irritability of the loser increases with every improvement that he notices in the lot of others. The yardstick is never those who are worse off than himself. In his eyes, it is not they who are constantly being insulted, humbled and humiliated, but only ever him, the radical loser....

. The threatening powers that are out to get him are not hard to locate. The usual suspects are foreigners, secret services, Communists, Americans, big corporations, politicians, unbelievers. And, almost always, the Jews.

For a while, this kind of delusion may bring the loser relief, but it will not be able to actually pacify him. In the long term, it is hard to assert oneself in the face of a hostile world, and he can never entirely rid himself of the suspicion that there might be a simpler explanation, namely that he is responsible, that his humiliation is his own fault, that he does not merit the esteem he craves, and that his own life is worthless. Psychologists call this affliction "identifying with the aggressor". But what is that supposed to mean? It certainly has no meaning for the loser. But if his own life is worthless, why should he care about the lives of others?

"It's my fault." – "The others are responsible." These two claims are not mutually exclusive. On the contrary, they reinforce each ther. The radical loser is unable to think his way out of this vicious circle, and it constitutes the source of his terrible power.

The only way out of the dilemma is to fuse destruction and self-destruction, aggression and auto-aggression. On the one hand, at the moment of his explosion, the loser for once experiences a feeling of true power. His act allows him to triumph over others by annihilating them. And on the other, he does justice to the reverse of this feeling of power, the suspicion that his own existence might be worthless, by putting an end to it.

As an additional bonus, from the moment he resorts to armed force,the outside world, which has never wanted to know anything about him, takes notice of him. The media make sure he is granted an enormous degree of publicity – even if it is for just 24 hours. Television spreads propaganda for his act, thus encouraging potential imitators. For minors, as shown by events in the United States in particular, the temptation this represents is hard to resist.

... humanity never seems to have expected individual lives to be treated as the supreme good. All early religions set great store by human sacrifice. Later, martyrs were highly valued.......during the Cold War there were those who shouted "Better dead than red!" . ....

II. The collective

But what happens when the radical loser overcomes his isolation, when he becomes socialized, finds a loser-home, from which he can expect not only understanding but also recognition, a collective of people like himself whowelcome him, who need him?

Then, the destructive energy that lies within him is multiplied –... and he is rescued from his powerlessness by a fatal sense of omnipotence......

The radical loser has not disappeared either. He is still among us. ...

"Left" or "Right", it makes no odds. Each of these armed rabbles calls itself an army, ...acting as if they were the representatives of "the masses". Being convinced, as radical losers, of the worthlessness of their own lives, they do not care about the lives of anyone else either; any concern for survival is foreign to them. ...

... only one violent movement has been capable of acting globally – Islamism....Although this Umma is subject to much inner fragmentation and badly affected by national and social conflicts, the ideology of Islamism is an ideal means of mobilizing radical losers because of the way it amalgamates religious, political and social motives.

A further promise of success lies in the movement's organizational model. Turning its back on the strict centralism of earlier groupings, it has replaced the omniscient and omnipotent central committee with a flexible network: a highly original innovation that is entirely of its time....


III. The spectacle

In one respect, however, the Islamists are without doubt a twenty-first-century phenomenon: where their understanding of the media is concerned, they leave their predecessors far behind. Earlier disciples of terror also relied on "propaganda through action", but the kind of worldwide attention achieved today by a nebulous grouping like Al Qaida was not granted to them. Trained by television, computer technology, the Internet and advertising, Islamist terror now gets higher viewer ratings than any football World Cup. The all-important massacres are staged in Hollywood-inspired style, modelled on disaster films, splatter movies and science fiction thrillers. This too is evidence of a dependency on the hated West. In the media output of terrorism, the Society of the Spectacle as described by the Situationists comes into its own.

More momentous still, however, is the strategic use of suicide attacks, an invincible weapon that cannot be seen by surveillance satellites and which can be deployed practically anywhere. It is also extremely cheap. In addition to these advantages, this form of terror also exerts an irresistible attraction on the radical loser. It allows him to combine destruction and self-destruction at the same time as acting out both his megalomaniac fantasies and his self-hate. Cowardice is the last thing he can be accused of. The courage that is his hallmark is the courage of despair. His triumph consists in the fact that he can be neither fought nor punished, since he takes care of that himself.

....The Arab world's sense of pride is hurt not only by military inferiority to the West. Far worse is the impact of intellectual and material dependency. In the last 400 years, not a single noteworthy invention was made by the Arabs.... This means that for any Arab who cares to think about it, the very objects on which everyday life in the Maghreb and the Middle East depends represent an unspoken humiliation – every fridge, every telephone, every power socket, every screwdriver, not to mention hi-tech products. Even the parasitic oil states, frittering away their future security, are obliged to import the technology from abroad; without Western geologists, drilling experts and civil engineers, fleets of tankers and refineries they would not even be capable of exploiting their own resources. In this light, even their wealth is a curse that constantly reminds them of their dependency.

..., Islamist terrorism is also unable to do without such borrowings. Its entire technical arsenal, from explosives to satellite telephones, from aircraft to television cameras, comes from the hated West.

That such an all-encompassing dependency should be experienced as unbearable makes perfect sense. Especially among displaced migrants, regardless of their economic situation, the confrontation with Western civilisation leads to a lasting culture shock. The apparent superabundance of products, opinions, economic and sexual options leads to a double bind of attraction and revulsion, and the abiding memory of the backwardness of one's own culture becomes intolerable. The consequences for one's own sense of self-esteem are clear...This burning desire cannot be fulfilled. The destructive energy of the radical losers is doubtless sufficient to kill thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians and to cause lasting damage to the civilization on which they have declared war. One indication of the potential impact of a few dozen human bombs is the level of day-to-day controls that has come to be the norm.....

The consequences for Arab societies, on the other hand, are fatal. ....

The project of the radical loser, as currently seen in Iraq and Afghanistan, consists of organizing the suicide of an entire civilisation. But the likelihood of their succeeding in an unlimited generalization of their death cult is egligible. Their attacks represent a permanent background risk, like ordinary everyday deaths by accident on the streets, to which we have become accustomed.

In a global society that constantly produces new losers, this is something we will have to live with.

Despite the hardship of this day, I've continued to study this article,
with hope to find something nourishing in it after all.
But the only valuable understanding
- self-hatred, low self-esteem -
is not new to me,
and what is truly sad,
that there is not even the attempt to suggest a solution,
but only the judgment,
that the "losers" are hurting first of all themselves
and that life will be more difficult for us, but we shall survive.
Since 1974 I have based my work with people and peoples
on my understanding concerning self-esteem.

I am - once again - disappointed by a "great" thinker.

 

I want to close this day of my life
with what is always consoling me,
my tree - "my Dommim-Tree" at Mod'in as well as at Shoham,
across our veranda on the "Dommim-Hill",
now doomed to become a commercial center.
The photos were taken,
when I wanted to reconstruct the scenery of my "Lesson with Nella, the dog".

Our house is seen through the branches, leaves and fruits

Again: Our house is seen through the branches, leaves and fruits of my tree

The tree - zoomed in - from our veranda



This young Dommim-Tree - from a certain perspective seen in one line with a second young tree and the above old tree - is a daily joy.

 

 

 

song of the day
"I am" - NOT - "a poor wayfaring stranger,
While traveling through this world of woe"



 

 

 

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home ~ library of seven years ~ intro to k.i.s.s.-log ~ contact

whole&full-filled, never perfect&complete
Keep It Simple Sweetheart
K.I.S.S. - L O G    2 0 0 8