Noah's Diary- 10th Week of Realization

 

My hitchhiking was miraculously guided towards a route, which by-passes Jerusalem to the east and leads through Palestinian land, with abominable checkposts... I was let off by an Arab truck driver at the Adam junction. "Adam" is one of those Westbank settlements, I was told, and a big one too. I was picked up right away by a man and three kids who clearly were Arabs. That's why I asked, in what language we should talk. He preferred English and his first sentence was: "I AM A PALESTINIAN!" I was surprised and happy about this declaration and listened compassionately to the flood of stories about the terrible things which are done in the name of my people. He volunteered more fascinating information: "I am teaching at Al-Qud's University, and I am the financial manager of the Konrad Adenauer Foundation." A famous German foundation... He invited me - Arab hospitality! - to his home in Beit Hanina. I met his wife Haala and Natalie, "our doll whom we adore!" "We have been waiting for her for 7 years." In a later context, when he learnt that I was living in Modi'in, he said: "Our gynecologist, Dr. Solomon, was killed in a terror-act on the road Modi'in-Jerusalem." His father came in and talked to me, as if we had met before. This was my feeling too.

When I tried to convey my message of "getting out of victimhood",
saying,
that the Jews feel victims because of their trauma of annihilation
and the Palestinian feel victims because of their trauma of humiliation,
Beshara said - as expected - "but we ARE victims."
I was glad, that I could use his proud statement "I AM a PALESTINIAN"
to point out the beginning of breaking out of FEELING victim.

Haala brought me to the checkpost on the road to Mishor Edumim, another Westbank settlement,
through which I would reach the road Jerusalem-Jericho.
While Beshara had told me the blows of occupation all along the short route to his house
"here is a village - Jaba - which has no longer any exit for cars - imagine a woman about to deliver..."

Haala brought up a different aspect of the ever deteriorating situation:
"We are Christians. The Muslims become more and more, even in my home-town Bethlehem.
Even in schools headed by nuns most of the kids are Muslims.
I can no longer walk in jeans outside my house.
We, the Christian population, are quiet.
Not one Christian Palestinian sits in an Israeli prison.
But for the Israelis we are Palestinians, Palestinians are Muslims, Muslims are terrorists.
And as such we are treated."

Is this truly a new morning for me and Noah's Shore?

Not because I have a solar-powered computer in the cave now,
and not because on this morning I feel some hope,
that I'll learn to sort out the multiple confusion between home-computer and cave-laptop,
and that the delicate balance of electricity between the solar production and the laptop consumption will work out after all,

and not because the next step of realization is clear now and even printed as a flyer, at least in Hebrew,

but because of the formidable lesson I seem to be finally (?????) able to apply:

that my pattern of creating PRESSURE ever so often
is preventing me from proceeding towards my goal.

It has been my slogan for so many years:

"Know exactly what you want,

Communicate clearly what you want

and then get out of the way and let happen what wants to happen."

But the pattern, the defense mechanism, cannot let it happen,
it I must control what happens , when and how....

Because I couldn't find the time and skill to sculpt the experiences of the last weeks,
the following letter may highlight some issues.

2004_02_05, 7 AM

Dear Danny,
On January 25, you wrote under the subject: U.N.E.P."

"I would be happy to check out the possiblity of advancing your ideas through one of the U.N. organizations.

If you can supply me more information and maybe it will work out for us to meet. To discuss the matter."

I am struggling with enormous technical confusion:
On my way of having solar-powered cellular Internet in "Noah's Cave"
(which I carved out from under a rock on "Noah's Shore" at the Dead Sea),
I am juggling between my home computer at Modi'in
and a new laptop, formatted by Immanuel, when I was in your village.
It's "by chance", that i just now discovered your response on one of the computers.

Since most people never respond to my e-mails,
I had already "deleted" you from my "scenario".
All the more I am encouraged now by your response.
"More information" could be found on my site
www.empower.co.il/healingkiss >Noah's Shore,
if you had the patience to open it and get an impression.
It's the tenth week of realization
and the info about "Noah's Vision"
and the ongoing "Noah's Diary"
is far from satisfying myself,
leave alone motivating any visitor.

Let me explain, why this is so:
Until now, all the computer and e-mail work had to be done
during the two "grandma-days" at Modi'in on Wednesdays and Thursdays.
Once I'll become efficient in using the laptop in the cave
and in balancing the power-production of my small solar system
during the 7 sunny hours on the steep slope of my cave -
with the power-consumption of the laptop
and once "Orange" - if at all - will succeed
in getting the software of my cellular Internet "aircard" installed on this laptop,
I should be able to present Vision and Realization in a motivating way.

The most efficient way of communication would be, of course,
if you could come down to the Dead Sea and visit me there.

If there is no chance for this in the near future,
let me know, what you need
in order to help me pave the way
towards making some UN forum adopt "Noah's Shore" as fast as possible,
in order to mediate between its dreamers and the Israeli and Palestinian authorities.
Since the area (700 meters on the road above the slope and the shore)
was a demilitarized zone between Israel and Jordan until 1967,
and should now become a demilitarized zone between Israel and Palestine,
both governments should get informed and involved at the same time.
Today that area is controlled only by the Israeli army and the Israel Land Authority
and I've succeeded so far to not be caught and entangled with either.
But the conditions are now ready to attract "dreamers" to build the physical space
and hiding will no longer make sense or be possible."

 

2004_02_07 Tu-bi-Shvat, the 15th of Shvat, the Festival of the Trees.

Though it's the festival of blossoming almond trees,
for me it's a season of harvesting fruits towards sowing out their seeds.

I want to list the events and encounters of 36 hours,
though I cannot make sense of why I attracted them.
It might be a way to break through the confusion of how I should go about the correction and the continuation of "Noah's Diary",
now that I have a computer in the cave - at least as much, as the solar power production allows for.

I took the Thursday grandkids, Yael and Itamar, and went with them to the post-office in my town Modi'in,
to receive the second part of Barbara's donation for my solar-powered cellular communication system in the cave.
On our way back I observed, that the bus company had finally installed covered bus-stations.
As always when I view modern glass architecture,
I rejoice in the transparency, which lets anything in and anything out,
and still protects from the unpleasant features of the sun.
It is how I want my human fellows to be:
transparent!

And on a physical level:
the greenish glass-panes of the bus-station are exactly the ones
which I would like to have around the "veranda" of my cave
to protect me from wind and sun and rain.
A few nights ago, the wind was racing like mad around the cave.
It tore apart the unwiewldy nylon-curtains , while I was just sitting here,
trying to hold on to them and to find ever new devices of fixing them.
Finally the wind won: with a flashlight I unfastened the stubborn plastic rings from the metal loops glued to the ceiling
folded the curtains away and fled into my bed on the "upper floor".

But , lo - with a tricky twist the wind caught me there with a gust full of sand.
I was shocked:
If the wind from the north can perform acrobatics around the corner like that,
a hot wind from the east, which is to be expected, will rush right into the entrance of the cave and ....
So, please, my Supplier Angel!
If the bus-station glass is the solution, let me have it soon!
The glass panes have to be movable, mind you!
for the wind in this hot climate is more often a friend than an enemy!

 

When my daughter came back from her studies and took the kids away,
I did my weekly cleaning-job : the staircase etc. of the tenants of my house.
And then came ----- Jonathan Jacobi on his way from Jerusalem and his peace activity there - back to New York.
I used to call him my "twin-brother", though he is 15 years my junior.
We had lost contact 16 years ago.
Nor could I find him in any of the ways I tried,
when I sculpted the experiences of that "Partnership-Tour" in the United States,
organized by Jonathan in 1980, and so relevant in 2004.
Some weeks ago he searched for his own name on the Internet
and hit upon those pages of my website.
Blessed be the Internet!

We talked about the feeling of fulfillment or the lack of it.
Though there was sadness in content,
there was great joy in the depth of our communication.
No masks, no denials.
He was he and I was I.


Has the time come to work together again?
Oh, how much I wished it would be so!

The same question I asked myself the following night.
But let me first get back from Modi'in to the Dead Sea.

When Jonathan had left,
I sat down on my mattress, happy and fulfilled, and made a small decision:
I would not let myself be pressured by the schedule of the busses to the Dead Sea the next morning,
though I wanted to be there as early as possible.
If I wouldn't wake up in time, I would hitchhike.

It was with this decision that I invited a Friday of amazing guidance...

I woke up at 5:55, the time I should have left the house for the bus.
I had still to do the complicated packing of the things I need both in the cave and in the flat,
and so it was only 45 minutes later, that the cars on the road to Jerusalem saw my lifted arm.
The early morning made it easy for me to walk and walk, until a car stopped.
The open face and voice and questions of the driver, Uri Zur, warmed my heart.
We had the most intense and joyous conversation until he let me off in Jerusalem.
He declared his great satisfaction with the purpose and beginning realisation of "Noah's Shore".
And he told me a story which I want to remember, a story about his grandmother.

"We valued this grandmother so much, that when she died, we did something special in her memory:
With the agreement of the JNF (Jewish National Fund) we planted trees in her name.
And we installed a table there for the entire family to meet there twice a year.
On the day of her death, and on Tu-bi-Shvat, the "Festival of the Trees".

"Isn't today the Eve of this Festival?"

"Exactly! That's why I will not be able to visit your cave this weekend.
The family will meet and celebrate and plant more trees."

No sooner had I left the car with the heartiest of handshakes,
than another driver stopped and took me in.
His first words were about how he loved life (.... and women),
and when I mentioned "those two fucked-up nations", agreed enthusiastically.
"I once had an Arab woman friend - though you know what this means for them -
and neither she or me could understand what is keeping us apart.
Aren't we cousins?"

The name of this life-loving man was Avi,
and when he let me off at this junction of the road from Jerusalem to Jericho,
he promised to give me more rides in the future and even called later to confirm this.

Again - no sooner did I lift my arm again than an empty small tourist bus stopped .
The driver - an Arab from Wadi Joos in Jerusalem - was on his way to Metzuqee Dragot
to fetch a group of German tourists and bring them to the border of Gaza.
Since the Jerusalem Palestinians have Israeli citizenship, he cannot enter Gaza with the group,
but the next day he would fetch them from the border and bring them to Ibellin, an Arab village in the Galilee.
Every detail of the lines I've written, are full of interest for me:
First - I was reminded again, that Palestinians from Jerusalem are allowed to go wherever Israelis are allowed to go,
which is to the Dead Sea, yes, but to Gaza , no.
We'll therefore have to work with Jerusalemites in the beginning,
since no other Palestinians are let through the checkpost of Ovnat, some 30 km further north.

Second: There are coming some tourists to this sad country after all.
Third: These tourists must be very courageous and interested in learning about both sides.
Fourth: they were going to Ibellin and stay there in a monastery
and probably meet Father Elias Shaqour,
who was such a good friend and partner to me during my peace-work in the seventies.
I wrote a letter, which I asked my driver Qaasem to give to the guide of the group,
so he would inform Abbuna Shaqour about me.
So many memories came up, --- happy memories for a change...
And I realized: again I came in contact with an old friend, though only indirectly.

The home-stretch of 15 km brought me in touch with "the other side":
those religious fanatics who .... - I don't want to give energy to their beliefs...

Qaasem had told me, that it had rained all day long the day before,
and that they couldn't pass the road near Massada, because it was flooded.
I approached my cave with apprehension, but not much damage had been done.
I spread out a few carpets on the rock in front of the cave and climbed down to "my" hot spring.
No sooner had I entered it, when the mobile phone called and made me rush out naked.
"I am in your home, why aren't you here?"
It was Nir Gur, another very good friend, whom Noah's Shore had brought back to me.
He had taken young endangered people to the Judaean desert for a 5 day survival training.
I made him come down to the spring, where we had several rough arguments, as usual.
It's impossible not to quarrel with Nir, but the quarrels never lack love or humor.
One of his contentions this time was, that the border is not where I said it was, but further south.

"In this case, I wouldn't mind you to be right,
but now do something about verifying your claim!"

After this friend's departure, I put my house in order
and then appproached the scaring task of editing and printing the Hebrew presentation of Noah's Shore and the flyer of the Dreamers.
Yuval had corrected my draft and left it in the cave.
Many details should be omitted, he suggested,
but I should explain how the healing work would be conducted,
Strangely enough: Uri Zur, my first driver in the morning, had asked the same question.

So I sat down to conceptualize my general ideas about "Healing Feelings"
and then set up the printer in a permanent place: on a folded folding table in a niche next to my bed.
Under the folded little table there is an exact space for the naked laptop.
As usual - when I find a solution for placing a utensil in an extremely limited space - I'm very grateful.
It always seems to me, as if these spaces had been created especially for my purposes, like this cave itself.

No sooner had I succeeded - after some mishaps - to print out several copies,
exhilerated by the fact, that t his was indeed being accomplished in this cave,
Genine announced that they were approaching the sculptures.

jExcept for Rabbi Ohad, Genine is the first to visit me from among the Israelis who went to the Auschwitz Retreat.
It was a great joy to see the children enjoy the cave and the view of the sea.
The children on Noah's shore.
And it was good to take in Genine's enthusiasm about my accomplishment's and to share my newly printed goals with her and her husband.

 

"Don't slide down on the steps, they are of earth and might break off and how then shall I reach my bed?" This is, what I tell the children, while the grownups question me about Noah's Shore, after I let them read the freshly printed first edition of the Hebrew presentation.

When they had to leave to reach Metzuqee-Dragot and the Shamanic workshop organized by the "Makom Community",
Genine suddenly had the idea: "Why don't you spend the Eve of Shabbat with us and Ohad's community?"
But then had doubts: "I'll pay for your dinner, but how will you return here ? [they don't drive on Shabbat]"
I tuned in and the answer was yes.
"Don't worry, something will come up for my transport back."

I was granted the experience of great joy - there in that place of pain in 1998-9.
The very hall in which we gathered and which I had so often been ordered to clean,
appeared in bright colors, with some woundrous artwork on the wall.
Ohad gave a Tu-bi-Shvat lecture about the Yin-Yang rhythm of the Jewish year, played the guitarre and made everyone sing and dance with elation.
Genine's little girl Shir (=Song), who at one time embraced me from behind, playing with my braids, was the first to move her body gracefully.
The Children!

But the most intoxicating experience was the encounter with old and new friends.
With two of them even "work" was done and insights won.

YHWH - It IS HAPPENING
y e s h  !    -    i t    i s  !

Since I've made up my mind just now, on the second day of the eleventh week,

to no longer report on my encounters and my sporadic work with people,

I'll cherish the love I received and the love I gave
in my heart.

And it's from there, from my heart, that I'm now telling the woundrous closure of that Tu-bi-Shvat series of encounters:

Early that evening, a man in white clothing had approached me: "Don't we know each other?"
"We know each other very very well" , I exclaimed,
and when he said his name and I remembered, we hugged for a long time.
Shortly after this excitement I asked him , if he had a car and if he could drive me back at the end of the evening.
Did he have a choice of saying "No"?
Not really.
He said : "yes".
4 hours later, towards 11 p.m. I turned to him and asked, if he still agreed to take me later.
"No! I'm too tired! I still have to put up my tent."
Perplexed by this blunt refusal , I tried once more: "You could sleep in my tent."
"No!"
Strangely enough, I didn't feel pressured: "what shall I do now!!"
Nor was I angry.
I was disappointed, yes, disappointed with his lack of courage.
Couldn't he have come earlier and said:
"I'm sorry, Rachel, I wasn't thinking, when I responded to your quest.
I'm too tired actually. Let's think of another solution, alright?"

I have only one condition for being friends with someone:
his/her ability to admit fear and let me help cope with it.
The "friend" in the white clothes helped me to re-examine and re-accept this condition.

While searching for an alternative, there were friends who offered me some options for staying.
None was really good, but if staying would have been right, I could have put up with any of them.
I tuned into myself and the message was to trust and start walking, even if it would take the whole night.
One of my re-found friends , the one, whose artwork was hanging in that hall, swallowed her worry,
("you haven't changed!")
urged me to drink some water, found an orange to put into my pocket , and let me go.

The night with the Tu-be-Shvat Full Moon was magical.
Light-footed, I walked down the 5 km of the twisted road.
Two jeeps were passing me, ignoring my lifted arm.
It was fine with me.
An army car came from the opposite direction, stopped: "are you alright?"
"Yes except that I need a hike!"
"We are not allowed to take anyone!"
"I know."

C lose to the junction with the sea-road another car from the opposite direction stopped.
The same conversation with a different ending:
The couple in the car turned around and invited me in.

When we reached the sculptures, Oshrat was shocked:
"Did you intend to walk all this distance?"

"Ben-Gurion said:
"If you don't believe in miracles, you are not a realist!"
But in order to make you, the miracle, come my way, I needed to set out for it."
They climbed down the 190 steps to my cave.
We had tee and a deep, fulfilling talk.
When they parted, it was past 2 o'clock in the morning of the day,
on which I had started my journey eleven weeks ago.
Here they are, Oshrat ("happiness") and Dror ("freedom"):
standing against the moonlit sky and the calm sea,
entering my phone number into their mobile phone.