Sens au coeur de la nuit
L'onde d'espoir
Ardeur de la vie
Sentier de gloire

Bonheurs enfantins
Trop vite oubliés effacés
Une lumière dorée brille
sans fin
Tout au bout du chemin

Sens au coeur de la nuit
L'onde d'espoir
Ardeur de la vie
Sentier de la gloire

So now there is this additional fright concerning
the TOMER IS COMING FANTASY
[explain :
how is the whole initiative connected to the slogan

….
it is the time to also let go of every detail
in all the four pathes of GRATeFULLness,

with joy and GRATeFULLness in this very moment,
never mind if the creation will remain uncompleted
and the memories forgotten and deleted.
It seems , that this is the last lesson i have to learn,
and the last healing I have to do about my personal past,
before I'm mature for the Voyage with TOMER.

The lesson is a lekh-lekha of a new kind:
lekh-lekha of a pattern, the old pattern of wanting to be perfect
Maybe the third lekh-lekha, about which I taught Yael
[who had come to me the day before in order to ask me questions
concerning her presentation at school about "One who fulfilled her dreams"]
the lekh-lekha from my childrens' home at Ramat-Gan to the bus
(starting with the advice of my sister Ursel (when she brought our mother to me, 1983):
"you can do realize your desire to walk in Abraham's footsteps in a caravan"!
towards being truly mobile with the bus in May 1986)
was easy compared to this lekh-lekha,
but if I succeeded in letting go of the pattern "I must cook creatively" (in 1976?)
and even of the pattern "I must cook for family and guests", altogether (in 2001)
then I may succeed in letting go of the pattern
"my creations in writing and documenting" must be complete.

So right now, I shall not document the experience with Yael
and not the experience with sitting with Ronnit for half an hour in the same room,
[2008_06_27- how come that despite this statement I rightaway wrote a few lines...]

On May 12, 2007
I find this entry in the template
of my diary:
"DVD with Efrat:
Les Choristes,
wonderful music,
sad and still too idyllic.
Underneath a photo of Tomer.

On the following day,
May 13, 2007,
it's again Tomer's picture
but this time - right underneath -
the picture of the main choirboy
from among the "truculent"
(a word I never heard before)
60 boys in that
"re-education institution".

This year
the focus of my perception
is the institution
and its director and staff.
It's called
"Le Fond de l'Etang"
"The bottom of the swamp",
while the institution
planned for Tomer
is called
"Bnei-Arazim"
"The Sons of the Cedars"

Is there a message?????
Is the fact,
that on the day,
when the "transference" of T.
to Bnei-Arazim
was finally relevant
(after the Court's decision on May 22),
the director went on leave
for 2 weeks?

After the Shabbat dinner of daughter, mother, grandmother,
I felt like sitting down at the piano. Efrat was eager to make me play
the Hebrew version of the Hymn to Joy.
If only I would be a bit more gifted! I could play the tune,
but not the chords, so we simply sang it together,
hoping that Mika would begin to catch the tune.
Then I ruefully returned to sheet-music,
finally enjoying my resurrected piano
and enjoying even my poor playing
and being deeply touched by three songs I sang
(Mika, who had fun with Imma in bed before sleep, said to Imma,
that she once would like to be able to sing like savta..)
3 songs by Robert Schumann, which I hadn't sung and played for 30 years...

"Fruehlingsfahrt: Es zogen zwei lust'ge Gesellen",
this and "Die beiden Grenadiere", made me sad.
But "Mondnacht" is the kind of poem and song,
which would be enough to nourish me for a long time.:
Video Fischer Diskau
and another video on the background of a few fantastic slides ,
and yet another video on the background of moving images
exactly fitting the content

Es war als haett' der Himmel die Erde still gekuesst,
dass sie im Bluetenschimmer von ihm nun traeumen muesst.
Die Luft ging durch die Felder, die Aehren wogten sacht,
es rauschten leis die Waelder, so sternklar war die Nacht.
Und meine Seele spannte weit ihre Fluegel aus,
flog durch die stillen Lande als floege sie nach Haus.

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