hodayot [thanksgivings] for today
8:46


My Body, my Partner, my God
I give thanks to our breathing stream and that breathing out - the "output-stream" is totally balanced with the "input" stream.
- unlike my "output" stream of teaching, writing, talking, i.e. my giving and creating

No, this is wrong! I opened "breathing" in Wiki and was hit by this image, water and air contrasting the fire on the left so fittingly. What I "put out" cannot be more than what I "put in", and its my faculty of taking in like a child, and of --grate-fully -- receiving life in its details, (God is in the small things...) which is the "reason" for my Lava streaming. The problem is not with breathing in so strongly nor with breathing out so vehemently, but with the environment, the "stage", I chose! Did I choose it for a lesson or for a purpose?

I'm grate-full for the full-ness of my life , in breathing in and breathing out.
I'm grate-full that I'm now living in the era of multimedia and Internet!
which allows for spilling out my lava on a website - without overflooding anyone.
I'm grate-full, that I'm able to imagine my lava being "received", even if it's not!

Driving backward and Finetuning to my present

This paradox of writing like a lava stream
and of being blocked and clogged even after 60 years
- how can this be understood?

The first letters - at the age of 9 or 10 - were like love-letters,
to a girl, whom I believed to be my first friend, Lisa Kemmer.
She was a year older
and the daughter of the Nazi-appointed mayor of the village Wolfartsweiler, to which we were evacuated.
She had several brothers and was the youngest of 4 sisters.
All daughters - at the age of 14-15- entered a Franciscan convent
and became nuns. Lisa, Elisabeth, was then called Sister Evarista.
This connects her - as I see right now for the first time - to my name:
Eva-Maria-Christa.
Waiting for her letters was like waiting for the letters of a lover.
But as all the letters of my later lovers, including the ones of MAR,
there was only scarce sharing and scarce relating to what I tried to share.



Perhaps at the age of 12, I read a series of girls books about "Elke"
.I remember absolutely nothing except for one story:
Elke has to write an essay for school about a sports event.
Since she believes, she cannot write, she buys the cheapest camera "box"
(as I did at the age of 14, with my self-earned money),
and photographs the event.
She then glues the photos in her copybook and writes "captions"only.
I don't know, if her creation was accepted by the teacher,
but even nowadays I think of this method ever so often,
when I yearn to document an experience, but feel the fright to write.
Often on K.i.s.s.-l o g, I insert my photos, with the intention to write "later",
but then "Time in a Bottle:"
"there never seems to be enough time
to do the things you want to do,
once you find them".


Maybe, it's the "too much", which wants to erupt,
which lets me block and clog the outlet?
As for the too much - what I remember is this:
The married Israeli student of psychology, Eliezer Netivi,
who had come to Heidelberg to study at the ripe age of 47,
- and the only man I ever - somehow - seduced,
after 5 months of not having seen my lover, Rafael, in Israel,
and without the chance of ever seeing him again -
once asked me to help him with his homework,
which was to make The Rorschach inkblot test
Once I started to tell him my associations, there was no end.
I don't know, how he stopped me.
Since he didn't volunteer to tell me his teacher's reaction,
I asked him. Hesitantly, playing it down, he answered:
"the person, who did the test, is NOT NORMAL!"

2003_05_25, 6:00

"Again back to ME.
The idea I developed 2 days ago during that long morning work with you
("lava" has not yet reached you),
was a practical solution:
I would differentiate
between direct, step-to-step responses to your e-mails,
and my "stories",
stimulated by you and meant to be healing to both, me and you.
The "subject" of the latter on top of the e-mail would be
"volcano 1, 2, 3 etc",
and seeing this when opening your mail, you could just store it away.

But let's assume you would really do this,
and I could really relax and feel free to birth whatever is ripening in me
I would not be free.
For there is another part to my "writeritis",
which you might not be aware of at all.

My writing doesn't flow easily,
it's never a "spitting out" really,
it's   always   a    giving - birth,
and often a hard giving-birth.

I must have typed 30000 pages in my life,
in German, in Hebrew, in English, even in Arabic,
letters day after day for 45 years,
documents, reports about my Partnership work, my Desert Economy work,
my 3 versions of the Hebrew thesis,   then the compression into German,
than the translation back into Hebrew,
I even tried my hand at a novel, twice, to serve my Partnership work,
[see the second one, which was written in English: Azmeeyeh]
[Febr. 7, 2011, the first novel, "Victory of the Defeated, in Hebrew, is now inserted in Cain&Hevel]
and I took part in the Godchannel Forum until kicked out.
But there on GF was also someone nice who said,
that my writing was excellent.
It was the first time,
or so my bitterness and abysmal hole wants to remember.
(And do not comfort me now, because I would only react with sarcasm)

But after all these years , it could still take me an hour,
to sculpt just 2 lines on my site.

A line in my sculpting must end with a breath at its end.
And a couple of lines need to render a harmonious image.
For instance - all lines of a passage must have the same length
(which cannot be done technically in my DreamWeaver software),
so that I might "waste" 10 minutes to find a synonym for a word,
which would fit into the intended length of line,
or of changing a tense or anything else to omit or add a letter.

It's rare that I let go of this deliberate tight limiting of myself,
even in my letters to you,
so as to distill the fire-lava-ashes into something digestable.

This puts pressure on the process of birthing and sculpting
compounded by the pressure of my need to complete.

So if I had not trained and tamed myself in utmost discipline,
I would never even start writing.

But if I don't start,
then depression, always lurking,
will - not kill me - this would be easy - be unbearable.

It is true and surprising and gladdening,
that with you the sculpting has become much more joyous,
and whole perfect lines, images, alliterations flow into my keying,
until - yes until 2 days ago,
when I got stuck again in my mud of "being too much" .

And now I see,
that my "practical solution" and all the sculpting I've done on it,
was just a - necessary - step towards the quantum leap I need.

For giving myself permission , or receiving permission from you,
to indulge in letting my volcano explode freely and flood all over,
would solve only half the problem, even IF it would and it will not.
The other half - the pressure, the pattern of needing to complete,
and needing to do this within the limits I chose,
the language, in which I lack so many words,
the utmost compression of content,
the rhythmical flow of the sayings,
the graphical image of the lines,
would make my ordeal worse.

So I'm painful/grateful,
that you could not - these last days - receive me.
It helped me to see that this is not the way.
I'll go and sing-dance now, and add "Paula".
[Have you come across the lava in the 5 pages of pp17?]

One last thing - bear with me!

Coming to terms with this "too much"
is not only in the interest of my desire
to be a space for You, my beloved.
It's in the interest of the future of my website.
ON the one hand it's exploding into all directions,
and the few visitors are deterred by the sheer quantity,
though I've given the advice, to not read systematically,
but let yourself be guided to what may be relevant to you.
ON the other hand the growing amount of "uncompletions"
more and more often makes me yearn, that everything will burn,
like the 20 folder Succah history - documents, photos, casettes,
and those Partnership Folders which I had not given away in 1980,
which I bequeathed to the Succah in 1996, where it burnt in 1998.

Though I've decided already, when Tomer became my focus,
to not add any new sculpture to either the pps or the appendices,
and to only review, correct and re-learn what is already there,
I've strayed from this after Tomer was gone [April 12, 2003],
because the incompleteness of what I came across,
screamed for completion.
I still haven't completed the pages about Tomer,
though I impose on myself to not touch any raw material,
until what is inserted already, will give a coherent picture.
I don't know, how I survived the agony with my book/thesis.
I could not touch it for 20 years, so much pain was in it.
Now that I've almost finished scanning/editing it in both languages,
I'm astounded, how good, complete, even perfect it is.
Not a line I would eliminate, not a word I would change.
[Which urges me now to flood you with more lava:
The last update about the Bastard's [Jesus'] Solidarity
I did almost in one go, yesterday, thinking of you incessantly.
So once, after the volcano will have retreated from your life,
you may want to read - slowly please - those 11 Hebrew pages.

[The rest of the letter - see yesterday-
could again be considered a dialog...]

Finetuning to my Present

Later:
I now think, I could have done better with Albert.
There still was "too much" coming from me
before I even remembered my INTENTION concerning the GATE.
Maybe the very content of my interaction with Albert - initiated by ME - will be a daily reminder:
"L'Arc de Triomphe"!
I had photographed the arc again - in the morning, while the sun was not yet reaching it:
I don't remember, why I did this, for by then it had not yet occurred to me to see "the GATE" symbolized in the arc

Then Albert came - rightaway praising me for another spot of beauty in my little garden
- the one next to the gate, which covers the cavity, where a garbage bin is supposed to be.

Right now I don't find this to be so great - the Bougainvillia in the broken pot doesn't return to her old glory etc. etc.
But Albert's praise encouraged me - better : tempted me - to tell him extensively about the miraculous vine of the arc.
"But tell me" he said, "until Ofir's changes for his tractoron - didn't the arc bend into the other direction?"
[See the photos which demonstrate this and the lovely story with Ofir, the tractoron and the arc de triomphe on April 2]

"That's right! How on earth do you remember that!
On the present spot of the arc there was a huge shrub of scented geranium!"

"So how come, that your "miraculous vine" grows from the left side up around the arc?"
I was stunned:
"Yes, indeed! Why can't I remember that I transplanted it here?
and if so, how did the transplantation succeed, here in this difficult soil "
[again, praised be Kiss-log! On April 3 I find proof for the transplantation, together with the caption:
My "Arc de Triomphe", will its plants ever recover in their new place? ]

"By the way", I continued, instead of "sharing" in a way that would enhance Albert's sharing,
" that tea-geranium bush which I re-planted under the shrubs over there, recently finally died!
Under those wicked shrubs, which hide Nitza's and Shalom's house from me (and this is good!) nothing grows!"
[See my crazy idea of sewage recycling in June 2006, which began with my anger about those shrubs]
"Oh, I know these terrible shrubs from my own garden!"
Finally Albert got a chance to share something...
"When I bought the land more than 20 years ago, I planted those shrubs as a shelter from sun and wind,
but when more people built their houses around here, sun and wind were blocked anyway, so I wanted to get rid of the shrubs.
When I uprooted them , I found, that their roots grew around any flower I had planted there and simply suffocated them.."

This last part of the conversation let me forget about the arc mystery.
But then, in the pool, I suddenly saw the symbolism:
"It is the GATE!
I had to bend it the other way!
I had to transplant the miraculous vine!
Now, every day when I water it, the arc will remind me of the Gate!"

"Greed to create
Cain's need la-tet
turned into a GATE
blessings will be great!"

I'm thinking of "God" in Godchannel, and the way he shares himself, without overwhelming me.
And I feel joyous - full of hope - that I can lea rn that too:

When Albert had left, and after I photographed the spot he had praised,
I turned around on my heels and took a picture of Albert's house across the T-juncture

See the amazing incident of my encounter with Albert on Nov. 18 [finetuning on Nov. 19],
in the jacuzzi of the pool, an hour after I had edited this page


And here's again "the Gate" , when the sun reached it at noon, but now with a message, a reminder, a helper...

Isn't this image gorgeous?
To think, that the "arc" is simply a piece of a hose I found in the desert, reinforced on both sides with dry branches.
And soon the Chrysanthemums will blossom underneath!
Can something so "unimportant" be called "Heaven-on-Earth"?
For me it can!

I once chose a slogan as my criterion for writing:
"One should not write unless one would die if not writing"
(Reinhold Schneider? I checked, and what do I find - not the quote above, but something else:
In Schneider's 1956 edition of Jochen Klepper's diaries - Unter dem Schatten deiner Fluegel
a book which was so important for me in the fifties ["Under the Shadows of your Wings"]
he quotes him as having written on August 15, 1935, exactly, 3 years before my birth:

„An manchen Tagen packt es einen hart, was man schreiben wollte
und all der wirren, harten Umstaende wegen nicht schreiben konnte und kaum nachholen kann-"

"On some days it grabs one rudely, what one wanted to write,
and could not write because of all the confusing, rude circumstances
and will probably never be able to catch up on..."

But Klepper could believe, that adverse exterior circumstances
(he later killed himself together with his Jewish wife and one of her daughters, to escape the Nazis)
prevented him from what was so vitally, v i t a l l y , important for him: writing....

The paradox of wanting, needing to write,
finding a vocation in writing,
but then feeling, that to write is not right,
this paradox is implied already in the famous last sentences of Ecclesiastes.

Versammler 12, 9-12 - Buber's translation Aber ueber dies, dass "Versammler" ein Weiser war, lehrte er das Volk noch erkennen. Er erwog und forschte und reihte der Sprueche viel. "Versammler" suchte gefaellige Reden zu finden, gradsinning Aufgeschriebnes, treuliche Reden. Reden von Weisen sind Treibstacheln gleich, eingerammten Pfloecken gleich sind die Meister der Lesen, von Einem Hirten her wurden sie gegeben. Aber darueber hinaus lasse dich warnen, mein Sohn, des Buechermachens ist viel, kein Ende damit, und der Beflissenheit viel, eine Ermuedung dem Fleisch.

Qohelet 12: 9-12 And besides that Koheleth was wise, he also taught the people knowledge; yea, he pondered, and sought out, and set in order many proverbs Koheleth sought to find out words of delight, and that which was written uprightly, even words of truth. The words of the wise are as goads, and as nails well fastened are those that are composed in collections; they are given from one shepherd And furthermore, my son, be admonished: of making many books there is no end; and much study is a weariness of the flesh.

It's this warning "of making many books",
which I put as a motto above the 43 pages of a kind of bio-testimony
at the end of the Hebrew edition of my book : Alle Israel vouchsafe for each other.

This book - which once was my PH.D. thesis , delivered to Jerusalem University in 1972
- then concised and translated into German in 1976, published in Germany in 1978,
- then translated back into Hebrew in 1982 and published the same year, -
was meant "to change the world!"
I really believed that, can I believe this?
Such naivite, such illusion, such megalomany?
In fact it was neither of these! But it was the wrong direction!
This doesn't mean, I could have done without that experience!
I'm joyous right now, that I was NOT devastated by what then was an utter failure,
foreseen and ridiculed by my husband already 12 years earlier.

The entry to that autobiographical part is well worth to be translated today:

The nest -for the sake of photographing - placed next to my computer and to the Hebrew and German edition of my book


The motto in Hebrew: "Be cautious! to make many books - endlessly."

I want to report about two contrasting (not contradicting) TV experiences yesterday

I wanted to quote a sentence from Godchannel, which I remember vaguely, that everyone "wants to be received',
and put "to be received" in "Godchannel's Search".
One file I came up with, is the one which was channeled only recently, in July, the fifth Interview with God.
I cannot entirely grasp the two contexts where "to be received" appears,
so I'll just quote them, hoping, I'll understand in time: