The Heart and Soul in One

      Over the past week there has been a tremendous amount of celebration starting with Memorial Day, Yom Hazicaron, and then Yom Hatzmaut, Indepence Day. At first I didn't understand why these two holidays would be back to back, one which is filled with utter sadness, and the other overflowing with loud music and dancing. I realized that having Yom Hazicaron the day before Yom Hatzmaut made being in Israel incredibly more meaningful because I heard the stories and saw the tears of the people who fought for our complete freedom and Independence. The reason I was standing on the ground looking around at the beautiful view was only because of the strength, determination, and courage that was embedded in each and every living soul who died in order to made this country not just a dream, but a reality. On Yom Hazicaron, there was a certain silence that took over Israel, you could see it within every single person, commemorating the lives of their friends, brothers, sons, daughters, husbands, aunts, and uncles. Unformately, it is inevitable to live in Israel and not know someone whose passed away from fighting, or know someone who knows someone whose life was put to the absolute test. I could feel this connection within each and every person on this day, whether it was in the two minutes of silence when the alarm went off, embellished within the stories of people whose greatest determination was the protection of their state, or within the tears that streamed down the faces of mothers and sisters, brothers and fathers who have been through the indescribable experience of loss.

      Each ceremony that I attended on Yom Haziaron was in hebrew, but I had no complaints for not understanding what was happening because it reached beyond the words and radiated through the members of the community, I didn't have to hear it, I could feel it to understand. It seemed as though all of Israel was connected for those few hours of mourning, remembering, sharing, and crying, there were no sects there were no divisions, everyone was united and everyone could feel the raw pain and heartbreak. At the ceremony at the Kotel, and the one on the Kibbutz we all sang Hatikva and never before have I understood the words more clearly and the true bravery and love that each individual who has fought and continues to fight for the existence of a homeland.

      The next day on Yom Hatzmaut, the mood completely changed and there was no longer a cloud of sadness guarding our hearts, the streets were filled with distinctive Jewish food smells, there was trumpeting music blasting though the air, there were many drunk, crazy dancing Israeli's jumping as high as possible and singing as loud as humanly capable for the happiness and freedom for which they symbolize. Everyone was smiling, laughing, and basking in the ability to walk the streets of Israel hand in hand with their family and friends. It's deadly to mourn for the loss of 23,000 each and every day, it's important to not only commemorate and remember their lives but to also celebrate their actions and their hope for a better place and a better time.

Etgar Keret

Etgar Keret is a renowned author who has made a definitive mark on the Israeli literary landscape with his unique and distinctive voice, which can be tender and mischievous, humorous and intelligent, out right ridiculous and yet somehow full of hope. Keret accomplishes the ability to illustrate a desire for his stories to explore and provoke ambiguity and to challenge aspects of life that have been made concrete over time and are now considered reality. In the story "Shooting Tuvia" a school boy tells the accounts of his dog Tuvia's life and the personal relationship that they form together. The dog seems to only be loyal and kind to the boy and acts wild with the other members of his family. After numerous accounts of the dog causing problems within the family, the father attempts to get rid of the dog. However, the dog always seems to find his way back home to the young boy, time after time. Infuriated, the father finally takes the belligerent dog, drops him in a forest and shoots him in the head-only for him to return home, tired, paralyzed, but ever-faithful to his owner. Just like all of Keret's stories, he is always engaged in a broader philosophical inquiry; his journey, and his questions, feel very personal and very humble. To me, this story exemplifies the true strength, perseverance, and persistence of the Jewish people and Israel as a whole. Although the Jews are unfortunately sometimes titled as the victims of hatred and violence, constantly kicked out of their homes, they nonetheless find the courage and strength to obtain their homeland. The father and family represent the anti-semitism and brutality that is prevalent in this day and age. The dog represents the Jewish people and their determination and endurance, their drive for their goal of a homeland, safe haven, and in this case, the young boy. 

Rachel Bluwstein Breathes Life into Death

There are so many people who embodied the bravery and courage to pick up and leave everything they knew as home to come to a new land, a new community, and start a new life. These people contributed to the solidity and legitimacy of Eretz Yisrael and their drive for a spiritual and cultural connection and home is still prevalent to this day. Rachel Bluwstein was born in Russia in 1890 and she was one of the pioneers who contributed to the formation of Israel. In 1909, when she was 19 years old, she visited the Land of Israel and speaking only Russian along with her sister, she decided to stay. Later, she settled in Kibbutz Degania, an agricultural settlement on the shore of the Kinneret. She worked hard and was an extremely dedicated community member until she was diagnosed with tuberculosis which made physical labor an impossibility so she was kicked off of the Kibbutz and forced to find a home elsewhere. Rachel turned to poetry where she lived out the last years of her life in loneliness in a room in Tel Aviv. She often wrote of her longing to be understood, of the feeling of insignificance of a sick woman in a world that revered strength and power, and of the constant tension between the desire to be loved and the fear of the artistically destructive emotional and poetic price of love fulfilled. Her poetry was especially touching to read while sitting so close to her grave. One particular poem that stood out to me is called "Kinneret" which beautifully describes the imagery presented through the view looking out into the water; calm on the surface but restless below the wind. She is able to capture the image that I looked up to after reading her words with such simplicity and beauty. It was incredible and moving to look around and see the exact illustation of the "small palm tree/ With its tousled branches/ Like a mischievous child/ Running along the lake shore to dip his feet/ Into the waters of Kinneret." As I read her words I could truly feel them come to life by being at the exact place that she was descibing and experiencing the same exact view that she was taking in that inspired her writings. Rachel gave up a life of comforts and culture to become a Zionist pioneer. When her life was cut short by a terminal illness, she responded by capturing the Israeli pioneer experience and her love for the natural beauty of Israel through her expressive and simple words which I like to believe gave her the hope and strength to stay alive.

Yom Hashoah: Remember and Never Forget

It's one thing to read textbooks, listen to lectures and hear statistics about the holocaust, but it is a completely different experience to be standing in Israel in remembrance of the six million whose lives were lost. Instead of hearing about yom hashoah, holocaust remembrance day, through the news or on tv, I was blessed to actually be in Israel while the day commenced. After hearing the announcement to gather at the lobby, we all frantically scrambled to meet as a group and to listen to the sirens being played. We were all talking and hanging out when the sounds of the sirens went off. All of a sudden everyone was taken by a deep silence and their conversations ceased as well as all movement. For two minutes out of the day we all stood next to each other, everyone had their hands to themselves and it seemed like we were all in our own worlds. For two minutes no one was talking like we had been doing seconds before, no one was giggling and making jokes. For two minutes the sirens echoed through the air in a bitter sweet whirlpool of sound which was reflected within every bone inside of me and could be heard throughout all of Israel. People driving in their cars, at the sound of the siren, stopped their vehicle in mid movement wherever they were and listened to the alarm. For me, it was an extremely surreal experience. I stood on the balcony of the Belmont from Kibbutz Tzuba overlooking one of my favorite, and most breathtaking, views of Israel. For two minutes the world seemed to stop and hold her breath, and everyone listening to the sirens mirrored that image without hesitation. It was remarkable and unfathomable to possess the duality of being in the moment, paying respect for those whose lives were taken away, and to actually be, physically be in the land where Jews fought for their right to live. I stood and thought and listened, because even in the darkest of times the birds are still singing, the cats are still running, and the trees are still rustling with their own song, and life is still active. It completely described the situation that we as a people have experienced that we may have undergone an extreme amount of pain, death and hardship, but we've persevered and continued to create our story and to live on. Israel, the army, and the Jews living throughout the world are a physical testimony and reminder of where we have come from, how far we've come, and the importance of continuing to live as a united people and to pass on the blessing of life. Yom hashoah, as well as every day, demonstrates that Jews are stronger than ever and that our spirits will forever stay on this earth. Knowing that all of Israel, the people I know and the strangers living miles away who stopped washing the dishes, stopped pushing on the gas pedal, or stopped eating lunch with their family were all listening to the same siren that I was, is an incredibly special moment and one of the most connected and united feelings I've had to Israel and its people. I will always have the image engrained in my mind of the two minutes of silence that said more than words. 

From Sea to Shining Sea

There is so much noise that is constantly overwhelming our lives, our thoughts, and our actions that  sometimes it only takes a few days of camping out in the wilderness to realize how much is taken for granted. Yam L'Yam was one of  greatest experiences so far on this trip. Being placed in a situation where it feels like you (and a few pairs of sweaters) against the world, is more rewarding than it may seem. For the first time in a long time I was able to be in the moment, be present to my surroundings, and hear my own voice and thoughts without the disruption of an updated Facebook status or a new Instagram picture. I didn't have to worry about any homework assignments, tests or essays, and I was able to find moments of silence, something that I take for granted more than I should. Even though being with my friends, making new friends, and walking together sharing stories and riddles never got old, I equally enjoyed the moments that I walked without saying a word. I was affected by everything around me, the birds singing, the trees swaying in the wind, the hot Israeli sun shining on my body, the insects flying into my eyes. I was awaken to everything, even the small things. I learned that only in silence do you recognize the constant movement and sounds of our world. All of the exterior bombardment of car horns, machines, phone notifications, and materials are subdued in nature, and a new level of noise is exposed within nature. While walking up the second highest mountain in Israel, Mount Moron, I realized that my blisters had grown blisters, but there was no bone in my body that screamed to stop, all I wanted to do was to keep going and to reach the top. I was completely overwhelmed by the view, it was truly breathtaking and being able to look far over mountains to a little gray dot signifying where we had begun the trek up created a feeling of pride. All week, after hiking for hours and reaching beautiful views, it became clear to me that even in the small state of Israel there is always something new to see and learn about. Even the times when I woke up from my body shaking because it was so cold or having to duck behind the closest bush for a bathroom not only made me appreciate showers and beds more but the trip also sparked the urge for adventure within me. I now have a new love for camping, hiking and caned tuna which I wasn't able to express before the trip and hope to continue when I am back home. The trip from the Kineret to the Mediterranean Sea which was full of sweat, stink and sore muscles allowed me to be at peace with my own thoughts and reminded me how incredibly lucky I am to be a first hand witness to the natural beauty of the land of Israel.