One in 44: A Mechina Photography Project

The second installation:

One in 44: A Mechina Photography Project

The Mechina is filled with all different types of characters. This project is composed of photographs taken over an eleven month span--September 2009 to July 2010. It displays a small amount of the immense diversity of character, opinions, beliefs, talents, interests, and experiences of the incredible people that participated in Mechinat Telem. This is for all of you!

A VERY special thanks to all of the wonderful participants: Yiftach, Eliran, Ory, Nof, Noa, Tamar, Errel, Talia, Yudko, Yotam,and Shai.

Here are 6 out of 11! More to come soon...

The grand finale.

I would like to end my experience by telling a little about the way that it began.

My experience began with an open door. With one open door my computer and means of communication was taken away. Open doors are meant to provide options. However, this open door left me with only one choice. It forced me to enter the new reality that I found myself in. I lacked a regular and common language in which to communicate inside my new life and suddenly lacked a way to communicate with the outside, with my old life. Communication is vital in any type of situation, words are a way to connect, a way to relate. One does not truly value their words until they are gone. Without a way to communicate, I feared that everyone would connect through their common culture, expressions, and through their depths. I worked hard to grasp everything that I could understand, and for the first time in my life I found myself depending on others for the most basic things. I was afraid to cook a meal for I would not understand, afraid to hold back the group, afraid to be a burden, and mostly afraid that I would fall behind while you all moved forward.

The beginning of my Mechina experience is characterized mostly by fear, for I came with many of them. However, I am not the only one who came with fears. We all came with our own fears, our own baggage. Rewind time for a moment back to the night before the Mechina. Think about what you had to face, what you had to fear. Suddenly you had to deal with the fact that you were: living outside of your house for the first time, given independence, had to make first impressions, needed to represent what was important to you, maybe did not know how to make new friends, did not know what to do with free time, and needed to learn how to do laundry or cook for yourself, and needed to learn to live in a group and be an individual inside that group.

Overcoming the fears that we came with was our first challenge. No doubt, this was a year of challenges for us all. At first, I believed that the Mechina challenged us in two ways: on one hand we faced the challenge of going out exploring the world, not necessarily liking/agreeing with what we saw, and then learning how to come to terms with it. On the other hand, we were internally challenged. We were forced to question ourselves; what is important to us. Forced to learn what others see in us, what we see in ourselves; and required to take responsibility. However, I now understand that it is not like that. These two aspects of the Mechina are quite intertwined and form one main challenge: the challenge of self discovery. For as much as we visited Me’ah Shearim or Yafo Dalet with the intention to learn about a different way of life or to help, what we really learned about was ourselves. [left with a better understanding of yourself.] Through sikumei Shavua, volunteering, tours, hearing others, and group living we learned about ourselves. These internal challenges characterize my year, for the broke me and forced me to rebuild myself anew time and time again.

One of the greatest activities that we did this year was called “Lech Lecha.” In this activity we each picked something that we did not know enough about, or something that interested us, and we were told to go out and experience it for three days. Since then, Yotam and Yudko like to call this my “Year of Lech Lecha.” It was my year to disconnect from my comfort zone and world/bubble and to throw myself into a new place. I was forced to see this complex place through the eyes of those who live here. There were multiple times where it was clear that I was not born here, that this is not my place. Even in the moments when I felt the most outside, you invited me into your experience and allowed me to stay a while. Your experience became my experience; your reactions and understandings became mine. I lived vicariously through you, and in that way, you created my experience. My year is so closely connected to yours, that I almost feel like I am moving forward with you all; that your next step is my next step as well. But, it is not. This is where we differ. This is the moment where we go to separate “Lech Lecha’s.” There is overlap between the two of them. We are both going to learn. In fact, you are going to learn a lot that I may never get the chance to learn. And in that way, I am jealous of you all. As difficult and challenging as your next few years will be, you are going to receive some of the greatest lessons of all. At a young age, you are going to learn what it means to be part of something greater than yourself. It takes a lifetime to learn the significance of this lesson: that as important as it is to be an individual, it is important to give yourself to a cause. Even if that cause is something that you struggle with, even if it is something that scares you, or if it is the most appropriate thing for you to do. It takes a great amount of courage and strength to question something, to accept that it may not be ideal and to do it anyway. In short, you do it because you understand that it is not perfect. That is a very noble thing to do.

I stood up here and began to tell a bit about my experience, yet I tricked you. That is not the purpose of this speech. It is not to glorify my experience, to make me sound brave or like a hero. For in this story I am not the brave one. I took a safe leap. As my aunt told me the night before the Mechina, “It is like you are sky diving with a parachute on your back, with angels flying around you, and with a net at the bottom to catch you.” In this story of our year, I am not the brave one, you all are. Not only did you also take the leap into an incredibly intense and unknown situation, yet you did it to better yourself. You came to prepare yourself for the army, but what you received was preparation for life. And even though we all experienced the difficulties of the beginning, you helped me every step of the way. Even in your weak moments you allowed a stranger in. And now once again you take a leap into an unknown period of your life, and this next leap requires much courage. You are brave in ways that I am not. And for that I have nothing but utmost respect for every one of you.

So, now I have to end this. The sikkum for the year of Lech Lecha has arrived, and I am pretty sure that it will take much longer than 8 hours. (I’ll keep it short though.) How do you sum up a year of lech lecha, A year of memories? And what did I learn? The smallest thing that I learned was a language. I learned how to listen, and I learned how to ask. That was the most humbling part of my experience. I learned the complexities of group living. What it means to have a group behind you, or lift you up. I learned what one needs to do in order to build a community. I learned to compromise. I learned that the idea of home is flexible; that it can be stretched by creating the feelings of home in every place. I’ve learned the important of balance. And as important as balance is, I have also learned that sometimes it is an impossible thing to do. As much as this year taught me about the different aspects of Israeli culture, about Yafo, and about dilemmas, I mostly learned about people. I discovered how much people are willing to give and have to offer if you only ask them. I have found that humans possess an unending amount of patience and kindness that they can show others (especially those that they do not know.) I came to learn the meaning of friendship in an entirely new way. And for all that I learned, I must show some gratitude, for I did not learn it alone.

And now for some thank yous:
I will begin by thanking Errel, Gili, and Daphne for helping me with this speech.

Thank you to the group that my mom loves to call “Team Hannah.” Mu aunts, uncles, grandma and cousins for taking me in as another child. It was wonderful to live close to family for the first time in my life and to share this year with you.

To Aharale and the counselors, thank you for the amazing chance that you gave me. You took a great risk by allowing someone from outside to join the program.

A special thank you to Eldan, my personal counselor for the year. There is no way that I could have survived the year without your guidance. You supported me every step of the way, gave me pep talks when I needed them. You are a great counselor and friend.

Thank you to my parents. You never questioned my choice to take this year off and enabled me to do it in every way. You supported it without every truly understanding it. You also did not yell at me for not calling enough, or at all.

Before I can thank all of my wonderful friends, I have to thank one person in particular that helped from the first moments until now. To Tamar Paley: You showed me love without limits. Thank you.

Now for you all: You took on much more than they bargained for when you decided to be my friend. You were not only my friends, you became my family completely—you took care of me, taught me, supported me, believed in me, pushed me, laughed at me, laughed with me, and helped me in ways that they do not even understand. They taught me that true connections are not built upon common cultures and languages; they are much deeper than that. You allowed me to depend on you. You held me up the entire year. This experience should have been a scary one, but you did not allow that. You supported me every step of the way. So thank you for the hugs, the lessons, the patience, and the openness. I will miss you all so much and it will be incredibly difficult for me to be so far away. Yet always remember the line from Wear Sunscreen:

“Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.”

One again, thank you to you all, and thank you to your families. You also became an important part of my support system this year. You opened your hearts and your homes to me.

And in that way, my experience both began and ends with an open door. You opened that door, and gave me the opportunity to stretch and discover my limits.


Sometimes computers are stolen, sometimes “refreshing” can be a complicated word (well, more than expected), sometimes you do not understand a thing and the best thing you can do is copy everyone else and hope that it is right. With every embarrassing, funny, frustrating, and awkward moment, I now know that it is much better to go through them with a group behind me. You gave meaning to every single moment. Thank you.

Love,

Hannah


אני אשמח לסיים את החוויה שלי כאן בלספר קצת על הדרך בה החלה. החוויה שלי התחילה בדלת פתוחה. דלת פתוחה אחת, המחשב שלי והדרך שלי לתקשר נלקחו. דלתות פתוחות אמורות לפתוח בפנינו אפשרויות. למרות זאת, הדלת הפתוחה הזאת הציבה בפני אופציה אחת והכריחה אותי להתמודד עם המציאות החדשה בה מצאתי את עצמי. חסרה לי השפה המשותפת כדי לתקשר בחיי החדשים ופתאום לא יכולתי לתקשר עם החוץ, עם חיי הישנים. תקשורת חיונית בכל סוג של סיטואציה. מילים הן דרך להתחבר, דרך לתקשר. אף אחד לא מבין את חשיבותן של מילים עד שהן אינן. בלעדיהן, פחדתי שכולם יתחברו דרך התרבות, הביטויים והעומקים המשותפים שלהם. החשש שלא אבין הפחיד אותי יותר מלבשל ארוחה, פחדתי לעכב את התהליך הקבוצתי, להיות לעול, והכי פחדתי שאשאר מאחור בזמן שכולם יתקדמו.
ההתחלה של החוויה המכינתית שלי הייתה מאופיינת על ידי הרבה פחדים, כי באתי עם הרבה כאלה. למרות זאת, אני לא היחידה שהגיעה עם פחדים, כל אחד בא עם הפחדים שלו, עם המטען הרגשי שלו. תחזרו בזמן ללילה שלפני המכינה, תחשבו על כל הדברים שעמדתם בפניהם, על כל הדברים שיכולתם לפחד מהם. פתאום, הייתם צריכים להתמודד עם העובדה שאתם: חיים מחוץ לבית בפעם הראשונה וניתנה לכם עצמאות, הייתם צריכים להציג מה חשוב לכם, ואולי לא ידעתם איך להתחבר לחברים חדשים, לבשל, לעשות כביסה, ללמוד איך לחיות בקבוצה וכיצד להישאר אינדיבידואל בתוכה.
להתגבר על הפחדים שאיתם באנו היה האתגר הראשון. בלי ספק, הייתה זו שנה מלאת אתגרים. על פני השטח נראה שהמכינה מאתגרת אותנו בשני אופנים. מצד אחד, התמודדנו עם האתגר של לצאת החוצה ולחקור, גם דברים שלא הסכמנו איתם. מצד שני, אותגרנו מבפנים, חויבנו לשאול את עצמנו מה באמת חשוב לנו. למדנו מה אנשים אחרים רואים בנו ומה אנחנו רואים בעצמנו, וכיצד לקחת אחריות על מה שאנחנו עושים. שני האספקטים האלו של המכינה שלובים זה בזה אל תוך אתגר אחד של גילוי עצמי. כמה שבאנו עם כוונות לראות דרך חיים שונה במאה שערים, ביפו דלת, בבת עין, המקום שעליו למדנו באמת היה עצמנו. דרך סיכומי שבוע, התנדבויות, טיולים, סיורים והקשבה לאחרים, למדנו על עצמנו. האתגרים האישיים שברו אותי וגרמו לי לבנות את עצמי שוב ושוב מחדש.

אחת מהחוויות הכי חזקות שהיו לי השנה היה ה"לך לך" בו חווינו את הלא מוכר במשך 3 ימים. מאז, יותם ויודקו אוהבים לקרוא לשנה שלי- שנה של "לך לך". זאת הייתה השנה בה התנתקתי מהמקום הבטוח והמוכר לי וזרקתי את עצמי למקום חדש. היו הרבה פעמים השנה בה הרגשתי שאני לא מפה. אבל הזמנתם אותי אל תוך החוויה שלכם ואפשרתם לי להסתכל דרך העיניים שלכם. החוויה שלכם הפכה להיות גם החוויה שלי. התגובות והתובנות שלכם הפכו להיות גם שלי. השנה שלי קשורה כל כך לשנה שלכם שאני מרגישה שאני מתקדמת לשלב הבא אתכם, אבל אני לא. עכשיו אנחנו שונים, זהו הרגע בו אנחנו מתפצלים ויוצאים לדרכים שונות, ל"לך לך" שונים. ובכל זאת יש ביניהם חפיפה, שנינו הולכים ללמוד, בעצם אתם הולכים ללמוד הרבה דברים שלי לא תהיה את ההזדמנות ללמוד ובאיזשהו אופן אני מקנאה. כמה שהשנים הבאות הולכות להיות קשות ומאתגרות בשבילכם, אתם הולכים לקבל את אחד השיעורים החשובים בחיים. בגיל צעיר אתם הולכים ללמוד מה זה להיות חלק ממשהו הרבה יותר גדול ממכם. אתם תלמדו שלמרות שזה חשוב שתהיו אינדיבידואלים, חשוב גם לתת מעצמך למען מטרה - גם אם אתה מתקשה עם המטרה הזו ואפילו אם זו מטרה שמפחידה אותך. לוקח הרבה אומץ וכוח לפקפק במשהו, להשלים עם העובדה שזה אולי לא אידיאלי בשבילך ולעשות את זה בכל זאת. בקיצור, לעשות את זה לא בגלל ההבנה שזה לא מושלם, זהו דבר אצילי בעיני לעשות.

עמדתי פה עכשיו וסיפרתי את הסיפור שלי אך לא זאת המטרה של הנאום הזה, עבדתי עליכם! לא באתי להלל את עצמי בפניכם עם החוויה שעברתי כדי לגרום לי להישמע אמיצה או גיבורה. כי בסיפור הזה לא אני הגיבורה. לקחתי קפיצה בטוחה, כמו שדודתי אמרה לי ערב לפני המכינה- זה כאילו את עושה צניחה חופשית עם מצנח על הגב, עם מלאכים שעפים מסביבך ועם רשת לתפוס אותך. בסיפור של השנה שלנו אתם הגיבורים. לא רק שקפצתם למשהו אינטנסיבי ולא מוכר אלא עשיתם את זה לשפר את עצמכם. באתם כדי להכין את עצמכם לצבא אבל קיבלתם הכנה לחיים. למרות שכולנו חווינו את אותם הקשיים של ההתחלה, עדיין עזרתם למישהו זר לכם. שוב אתם לוקחים עכשיו קפיצה אל מקום לא ידוע וקפיצה זו כרוכה באומץ רב. אתם אמיצים כמו שאני אף פעם לא אצטרך להיות.
באופן מפתיע דיברתי יותר מדי, וזהו הזמן לסיים. סיכום שנת ה"לך לך" הגיע. ואני די בטוחה שזה ייקח יותר משמונה שעות. איך אפשר לסכם שנה של "לך לך"? שנה של זיכרונות? ולענות על השאלה הגדולה: מה למדתי?
הדבר הכי קטן שלמדתי היה השפה. למדתי גם איך להקשיב, איך לשאול, למדתי על הארץ, על המורכבות של חיי קבוצה, על הכוח שבקבוצה שמאחוריך, ועל איך להתפשר. למדתי שהמושג "בית" גמיש, שאפשר למתוח אותו וליצור הרגשה של בית בכל מקום. למדתי על החשיבות של איזון ומצאתי שכל כך קשה להשיג אותו, אם בכלל. כמה שלמדתי על האספקטים השונים של התרבות הישראלית, על יפו, ועל דילמות, למדתי הכי הרבה על אנשים. בזכות "עד הקצה", "לך לך", שביל ישראל, ובעיקר המכיניסטים גיליתי כמה אנשים מוכנים לתת ולעזור כשרק מבקשים מהם. מצאתי שלבני אדם יש סבלנות וטוב לב אין סופיים. באתי ללמוד הגדרה חדשה לגמרי של חברות ועל כל מה שלמדתי אני חייבת להודות לאנשים, כי לא למדתי לבד.

דבר ראשון, אני רוצה להודות לאראל, גילי ודפני על שעזרו לי להכין את הנאום.
אני רוצה להודות גם לקבוצה שאמא שלי קוראת לה גרופ האנה. הדודים, דודות, בני דודים וסבתא, שאמצו אותי השנה כעוד ילדה. זה היה נהדר לחיות קרוב למשפחה בפעם הראשונה. ואני מרגישה שיש לי מזל שהייתה לי ההזדמנות להתקרב אליכם השנה.
תודה לאהרל'ה ולמדריכים, שתמכתם בי כל השנה, עם הרבה מאוד סבלנות.
תודה מיוחדת לאלדן, לא הייתי יכולה לשרוד בשנה הזאת בלי הליווי שלך. היית מאחוריי בכל צעד, ותמדי בשביל שיחות עידוד. היית מדריך וחבר טוב.

Thank you to my parents. You never questioned my choice to take this year off and enabled me to do it in every way. You supported it without every truly understanding it. You also did not yell at me for not calling enough, or at all.

לפני שאני מודה לכולכם, החברים הנהדרים שגרתי איתם השנה, אני רוצה להודות לחברה אחת מיוחדת שעתה מעל ומעבר בשבילי מהרגע בו איבדתי את המחשב שלי עד עכשיו. תמרי, הראית לי אהבה בלי גבול.
ועכשיו, לכולכם: לקחתם כל כך הרבה יותר ממה שחשבתם כשהחלטתם להיות חברים שלי. לא הייתם רק החברים שלי, הפכתם למשפחה שלי--טיפלתם בי, לימדתם אותי, תמכתם בי, דחפתם אותי, האמנתם בי וצחקתם עלי ואיתי.
עזרתם לי בדרכים שאתם בכלל לא מבינים, לימשתם אותי שקשרים אמיתיים ניבנים על משו הרבה יותר עמוק מתרבויות ושפה משותפת. הרשתם לי לסמוך עליכם. הרמתם אותי ממצב בו לא הבנתי והרגשתי קצת בחוץ למקום מעורב בקבוצה. החוויה הזו יכלה להיות מפחידה אבל לא נתתם לזה לקרות.
אז תודה לכם על החיבוקים, השיעורים, הסבלנות והפתיחות.
אי כל כך אתגעגע, אהיה קשה להיות רחוק מכם.
אבל תזכרו את המשפט שקראתי:

“Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.”

דבר אחרון בשבילכם, תודה שפתחתם אלי את הבתים והלבבות שלכם. המשפחות שלכם נהיו חלק מרכזי ממערכת התמיכה שלי פה בארץ.

בכל אופן, החוויה הזו גם התחילה בדלת פתוחה וגם מסתיימת בדרך הזאת. אתם אלה שפתחתם לי את הדלת, נתתם לי את האפשרות להיחשף ולמתוח את הגבולות שלי.

עכשיו אני מבינה שלפעמים גונבים מחשבים, לפעמים מרענן הופכת להיות למילה מסובכת ולפעמים אתה לא מבין בכלל וכל מה שנשאר לעשות זה להעתיק מכולם ולקוות שזה נכון.
מכל רגע מביך, מצחיק, מתסכל ומוזר אני יודעת שיותר קל לעבור אותם עם קבוצה מאחורי.
נתתם לי משמעות לכל רגע ותודה על הכל.

אוהבת.
חנה

Unfinished posts.

I begin this post on August 31, 2010. I promised myself that I must close this very, VERY irregular "blog" in some way. Now I know that I did not try, or put as much effort into this as I could have, I definitely attempted. The attempt of a blog was a small leap within itself. As I looked back at all of my posts, I noticed all of the unfinished posts. At least three posts were started and left undone...

EXAMPLES:

Before this year I would not have described myself as an "outdoorsy" person. My only real outdoor experience came from summer camp, and that experience was quite limited indeed- the occasional camp out, swimming in the lake. Yet neither did the outdoors nor hiking ever hold a significant place in my life.
Before the Mechina began, I spoke to Sara Sandmel, last year's American, about reasons for coming. One of her reasons happened to be the hiking component of the program. "Ok, not exactly my reason for coming. In fact, it does not interest me at all. But it will be a nice addition to everything else that the program has to offer!" I foolishly thought. I could not have been more wrong. One of the main goals of the Mechina is to expose its participants to the country (land, populations, beliefs, ideologies, etc) in every way possible. As much as I gained from my classes and from every encounter with people whose backgrounds i do not understand or do not know enough about, my most powerful way to learn about the land and its people has been to trek across it by foot. Within the structure of the Mechina, we have gone on about one or two full day hikes every month. In addition to that we have a Mechina project to hike Shvil Yisrael (the national trail). I was lucky enough to have hiked parts of the national trail three times. When I reflect upon my year, the progression that I see through my different shvil hikes also reflect much of my progression of the year. With every hike I was more confident with my hebrew, my relationships, my place in the group, and my ability to navigate. On my first hike I walked across the beaches from Netanya to Tel Aviv. The second hike was in the South where I walked through a never ending wheat field for two days. As one of my fellow hikers described it, it was a "physical ohm" just walk through a place where the scenery rarely changes, yet is beautiful because of its simplicity. The second day of that hike was also spent with just one other person, which is an incredibly powerful experience. My last hike took place up North, at Har Tavor, and I spent that entire shvil laughing. On the night of that first day of the hike we were walking near a Jewish city and an Arab village when two people stopped us on the street and asked us if we needed a place to stay for the night. In the spirit of going "to the limit" we accepted, and walked home with them. Turns out that they lived in a commune of 6 people. They had done exactly what we had done: lived together a year before the army. Then they continued together, they joined the army together, and have lived together ever since. At this point they had been together for eight years. It was bizarre to try to place the Mechina in their positions, to think about what it would be like to live with some of the people that I live with now for seven more years. Our relationships and dependency would grow and reach an entirely different place. I was intrigued, yet also felt that I could not continue living in a commune for the rest of my life. Parts of life must (most likely?) be experience alone as well.

While I enjoyed every minute of those hikes--even the waking up at 3 am, the sleeping outside, and the other difficult moments--I never could have predicted that they would turn into one of the most meaningful parts of my year. That drive to hike and explore is something that I hope to take with me.

AND...

Many posts have been started and remain unfinished. When the Mechina ends and I am still trying to grasp all of my experience that quickly slipped through my fingers, I will return and finish every post.

Yet now I will do something monumental: start a post and finish it in one sitting.

We currently find ourselves in the last week of the Mechina, the "Shavua Preda M'Yafo" (The separation from Yafo week.) This week has been a difficult one. For we already ended volunteering and classes, and we already had our concluding seminar...yet we are still here. For most of the week i had a difficult time connecting, yet today was beyond successful. As part of the week of separation, the Mechina had planned a "Flash Mob." (For all who do not know what that is, I have provided a definition for you: "A group of people who quickly assemble in a public place, do something bizarre, and disperse.") Our flashmob took place at Shook HaCarmel, which is a very central location in Tel Aviv--right by the major shopping centers Shenkin and Dizengoff. The Michael Jackson music begun, and most of us pretended to be observers in public. Yet slowly we all joined in as well. True, our flashmob was less organized than most, we made lots of mistakes (well, I guess I can only speak for myself. I made plenty of mistakes) yet the feeling of dancing as a Mechina and looking like fools in front of hundreds of people was exhilirating. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Pa71-lJrXI

The minute it ended we all walked in our separate directions, yet converged again a few minutes later to have a large and spontaneous dance party in the middle of the shook. After that Gilad, Sheli, and I walked down Shenkin to sit at a coffee house that we had been trying to get to the whole year. It is called Cafe Tamar, and it was the first coffee house ever in Tel Aviv. We entered, and time suddenly rewound itself about thirty years. We asked for a menu. They don't have menus. Then what is there to order? Coffee, Tea, and toast. Clearly, people do not come here for the wonderful food options. The waiter and owner of the store disliked us for we were the young, disruptive table. Yet as we were leaving to check out, we began to talk to the lady who established the coffee house (her name is Sara actually, not Tamar...) and she told us a bit of the history. She pointed around the room to most of the customers and told us who they were and what their profession is. It was incredible. It is the small adventures like that one to the coffee shop that reminded how wonderful it was to live in and explore Yafo/Tel Aviv. And those moments are the ones that I will miss the most.

SO there you have it, the unfinished posts. More thoughts of mine that help piece together the entire year.

The final stretch.

And so I came back. In no way can I say that I returned to stability in the Mechina. As the great Shai Komarov once said, "There is no such thing." For two weeks straight I did not sleep in one place for more than two nights. I had about one day of normalcy to be jet-lagged, and the next day we set off for a two day hike...destination: Nachal Daraje (the Daraje river). We were told that it was one of the more challenging trails and that we would get wet. The entire trail was in water. This particular trail also required rock climbing and a great deal of repelling. I had repelled one time with a harness on "Ad haKatzeh," and suddenly I found myself in a situation without a harness, wearing slippery shoes, and repelling down a drop in the rocks into water. This tiyul challenged my hiking capabilities the most. The combination of the "challenge" and jet-lag has a bizarre outcome of mood swings. One moment I would fear for my life, the next I would feel on top of the world and prepared to face anything, then emotionally and physically exhausted, then I would simply be. In many ways, as cheesy as it may sound, is very symbolic of my year in the Mechina. It was a huge challenge that was scary, fun, supported, beautiful, and exhausting. When we finished the actual hike, the bus picked us up and quickly dropped us off at a campsite in Ein Gedi on the Dead Sea. Immediately a group of about ten of us walked directly towards the Dead Sea to cover ourselves in mud and float. And there one of my greatest memories of this year occurred. It is hard to explain exactly what created those precious moments-- perhaps the combination of time of day, temperature, people, landscape, or the calm that follows a difficult hike-- whatever it was, every detail seemed to align to create the perfect moment. That does not happen to me often, in fact, I cannot recall another perfect moment in my life where I felt entirely comfortable and in the present. After a crazy day of wading through water, slipping down rock slides, getting slightly injured, and attempting not to fall while repelling, everything became serene. That serenity carried over to the next two days. After floating in the sea, we returned, showered, and relaxed. There was no schedule, no one in charge, no time limits. We were on vacation- me and 27 of my closest friends. The small number of the group also created a wonderful intimacy that is very difficult to find in a group of 44. I ate dinner, ate ice cream, and star gazed until we all collapsed from exhaustion. Rather than allow myself to sleep in like everyone else and make up for almost 3 straight days of being awake, I decided to wake up at 5:30 am to see the sunrise. The night before everyone agreed to wake up, yet as expected we were only five in the end: Uri, Sarig, Ilai, Yotam, and myself. It was less the sunrise that I enjoyed, but more the feeling of happiness to be sitting with 4 close friends at six in the morning in the desert. There was no schedule or counselors with us on that second day. Rather than hang around and do nothing, which is something that we NEVER get the opportunity to do in the Mechina, the group made me very proud. One person suggested the option of going on a small hike to some maayanot (springs) in the area, and 19 of us joined in. In many ways, the Mechina taught us to do and to try rather than to sit around and wait. Our "vacation" continued with a weekend with Netzer gap year kids from Australia. For the first time, I was exposed to Australian Judaism and its youth groups. They were completely crazy, in the best way possible. It was refreshing for our group to see another group which resided in a different part of their process. They had only been together for three months, and were overflowing with energy, songs, strange traditions, etc. Some took what they saw in their group and turned inwardly to question our group: why aren't we like that? The answer is: we were like that, once. And now we are something else. We have undergone such a powerful process together that our mentality and energy is simply in a different place...and there is nothing wrong with that. In a way, the Netzer kids succeeded in giving us the want to strengthen our group and traditions that we do.

The next great events were Memorial Day and Independence Day. In short, these are two very good days to feel like an outsider. On Memorial Day it is suddenly very clear if one was not born here. For as much as I attempt to understand the history, pain, and meaning behind the day, I will never truly be able to feel it. The question of: "What am I entitled to feel?" comes to mind. After complaining to Yotam Eshed about not being able to fully experience this day, he said, "But you do experience it, because you live with us." True. In a strange way, I live vicariously through my friends in the Mechina. For example: I understand what it means to prepare oneself for the army for I have lived with 42 people who have been doing that the whole year. In terms of the holidays, I lack the capability of understanding this holiday myself, so I internalize the group's understandings and reactions and turn it into my own. Their experience becomes my experience; I live and understand it through them. Yiftach summed up the whole two days for me by saying that these days make him face his Israeli nationality and identity and everything that comes along with it.
This year has been a true gift, for I was given the opportunity to view this land through the eyes of those who care about it most. Their feelings towards these holidays, their nearing army service, and this country in general are quite complex, yet the most genuine that I could find.
The immediate switch between Memorial Day to Independence day was bizarre. I believe that I would have had a harder time making that mental switch if I had truly allowed myself to enter Memorial day. However, I did not do that. I spent most of the day as a sociologist, attending the events and performing the customs, yet viewing from the outside. Yom HaAtzmaut was one of my highlights of the year. All of the Jerusalem kids in the Mechina gathered for a barbecue at Sara's house then went downtown together. We believed that we were going to a certain street party, yet ended up at a strange techno dance party in Gan Sacher. From there we wandered and saw basically all of Jerusalem's youth in the city celebrating the establishment of their country.

One of the great goals of the Mechina is to raise awareness. In addition to our two tours of Southern Chevron, where we were exposed to both the Palestinian and Settlement sides of the story, we had a four day long seminar in Shomron and Gush Etzion. Everyone absorbed this experience in a different way. For me, the four days were a deep head-first immersion into a gigantic topic, conflict, and history that i had never touched. It also became an incredible opportunity to break down the internal labels and stereotypes which I unknowingly assign to those that I less understand. The minute that you find yourself in the home of the one that you disagree with or do not understand it becomes very difficult to judge. Throughout the whole bizarre seminar we did not observe, we interacted. Of the four days, the most surreal experience was our visit to the Jewish part of Chevron. It began in the "MaArat HaMachpela" or the "Cave of the Patriarchs." Supposedly, Abraham, Sara, and others are buried there. It is a holy place for Jews, Muslims, Christians, and the second one enters the building it is quite clear. I did not connect to the place on any sort of spiritual level. It turned out to be some strange mash-up of the three religions. Next we left the building and began to wander the abandoned streets of Chevron. We walked through what must have been a shook, with rusted signs completely written in Arabic. Every alleyway, corner, and along the "main" roads Israeli soldiers hovered. Four hundred soldiers serve in Chevron at a given time. However, the number is totally disproportional to the number of inhabitants. The numbers: 700 Jews and 200,000 Palestinians. Historically, Chevron and the whole surrounding area are inundated with meaning. Yet today it is hard to feel connected to that place, or even feel like we have any right to be there. The overall feeling, along with feelings of disgust and discomfort, was the general understanding that it does not belong to us anymore. Many would beg to differ with that statement. Those 700 jews who choose these (less than pleasant) living conditions choose it for they feel that they are "shlichim," or that they are representing the Jewish presence and preserving it for all Jews. Yet me feeling was simply, it is no longer our home. Perhaps once it was, yet now we lack the right to be there. Personally, the torah does not give me enough of a reason to remain. No one wants to give up on lands overflowing with our nation's history, yet sometimes perhaps the answer is to learn to let go. Judaism has a difficult time with that idea though. Walking through Chevron felt entirely unnatural. In some way, I built up a mental barrier that prevented me from truly understanding the gravity of the situation...from understanding that 400 soldiers must stand there at all times, and endanger their lives in order to protect 700 Jews that are not legally allowed to be there.
After the surreal tour, the seminar calmed down for the shabbas. We were given 20 minutes for every single person (44) to shower after the driver threatened to leave without us...and surprisingly, we made it right on time. That is probably the only example of us arriving on time the whole year. Shabbat was spent in Bat Ayin--a settlement filled with people who were born secular and then became religious, a sort of hippie community, with an extreme reputation. As weird as it is to admit it, I really enjoyed myself there. It was one of the better shabbatot that I have had in the Mechina this year. We found ourselves in a beautiful place, surrounded by nature and a strong shabbat atmosphere. We belted Carlebach tunes during Kabbalat Shabbat, and were welcomed into incredibly warm and open families.
The final highlight of the intense seminar where new information was thrown at me from every angle came in the simplest form. We had a discussion with Rafi's (the man who planned the whole seminar) wife. She is a phenomenal woman who grew up entirely secular, then discovered her connection to Judaism, got married, and moved to the settlements to start a family. Discussing spiritual topics with a someone who feels that they are more religious and educated than you is a frustrating experience, for they simply cannot grasp the world from which I come, yet that did not happen this time. This woman knew the "outside" world very well, she lived in it too once, and so she spoke to us at eye-level. Rather than discuss the situation in the settlements (like most of the speakers) she decided to talk about something more relatable: dreams. She told the story of her son who had cancer and the dream that she had while she held him in the hospital bed. Her message (which can be applied to her situation, the settlement situation, and nearly everything,) is that sometimes reality can be too big, scary, complex, and heavy to understand; dreams are necessary to carry us through life.

Airplane Post (April 13th)

An airplane entry:

Life is about balance. Balancing all the internal and external components that make up one’s being is no simple task. In the Mechina the challenge is to create balance between being part of the group, being an individual, being alone, obtaining sleep, speaking Hebrew, speaking English, participating, missing out, committee work, feeling happy, allowing oneself to feel sad, maintaining relationships, and remaining sane. Sadly, I am no great acrobat or steady scale. I cannot balance it all; the weight is simply too much for me. In an attempt to grasp every aspect and to soak up all the meaning that I can extract from this year as possible, things occasionally slip through my fingers. Some things are neglected—such as this blog. Sacrifices are made—mostly sleep and health. Not all relationships can be maintained. Some things simply do not receive the amount of attention that they deserve—such as keeping in touch with family and friends from home. After eight months of living in Israel, I finally returned home for Passover and for Emma’s big bat mitzvah. I viewed the short break as an opportunity to recharge and take a break from the strenuous balancing act. Yet, I was wrong. Although I did find new energies that will allow me to enjoy the next few months, the balancing continues. This time I attempted to balance family and friends. In short, I understand that the balancing does not end. The way I explain my year in the Mechina as follows: It is the hardest thing that I have ever done, yet the most fun and the happiest I have ever been. It is simply a fact that not all things can be tended to. In the Mechina, my incredible experiences are balanced out by my difficult ones. Duality must exist within everything. The components that I am capable of holding up in the Mechina are balanced by those which I let fall. I look forward, a few months, a few years into the future, and attempt to assess the type of balance that I will struggle to find then. An even balance between the life I had before this crucial year and the life that I have now will forever be in motion. To try to balance the two places which I hold so dearly to my heart, yet which exist on separate continents, will be an impossible task. I will forever be torn and dwell in two places. Balance may not be an option with this one. Yet I can attempt to do my best. As Dr. Seuss wisely said, “So be sure when you step, step with care and great tact. And remember that life is a great balancing act.”

December until now...

I believe that I deserve the title of “Worst Blogger Ever.” I have started many-a-post and not even come close to finishing it…

So yet again, I will write a post about the highlights of the last few months—to give you an image of the types of ridiculous things that I have done during my glorious gap year.

Let us rewind to the last week in December. After a cancelled flight, my mother and sister Emma finally made it to Israel to visit me. Despite the fact that “missing out” is a terribly hard thing for me to do, I took the week off to be with them. I was in constant connection with the Mechina and asked to be told if something important was going on. My counselor Eldan told me not to worry; nothing was going on, HOWEVER I must be in the Mechina for an important conversation at 11 pm on Sunday night. The topic of this discussion happened to be about the lack of money in the Reform movement. The head of the Mechina, Aharale Fox, sat and told us for 45 minutes that the Mechina, which falls under the authority of the Reform movement, was unavoidably affected by this money shortage and would either need to reduce the number of apartments of end a month early. This was an unbelievably emotional conversation where everyone tried to piece this surprising news together and solve it. After a good 45 minutes, suddenly the lights were shut off and all six counselors entered the room with sparklers. They shouted, “Remain quiet. Right now we are splitting you all up into groups of four people. We are sending you on a trip- for how long, we will not tell.” Each group received a box of equipment, in it resided some food, some money, and a clue. We were told, “Every group must solve the clue to learn their first destination. By 4:30 am, you must be packed, the clue must be solved, and everyone must be out of the building.” The rules included not talking to any other groups if we ran into them on the way, only spending money on necessary transportation, and having only one cell phone on at all time. We all sat in shock for a good minute (especially me, for I had to figure out what to do about the whole “mother coming all the way to Israel to visit me” situation.) In the end, as unfortunate as it was to give up on a few days of being with my mom and sister, I understood that this was not an experience that I could miss.

My group solved the clue: Binyamina was our destination. At 4:30 am, with our giant bags on our backs we went out as a group singing all the way to the train station. Once in Binyamina we solved task after task: do a madas boker (morning exercise), write a song, play games with kids at recess, go to Ehud Manor’s house (a famous Israel singer, who wrote bashanah haba’ah), EARN a bottle of wine, interview people in the street. Our madas boker was led by Eden, and consisted of the four of us running around through a playground. I laughed the entire time. Our song was a mix of “Circle of Life” and “Summer Loving.” Our next task was to go to the grave of another famous singer, Meir Ariel, next to Pardes Channah. Once in Pardes Channah, we met a friendly little man who took us to the cemetery on his daily power walk. While there, our task was to sing a song written by Meir Ariel. Yudko and Uri sang very beautifully into the phone to our counselors (for this was our “task”) but all we heard on the other end was “LO SHOM’IM!” (Translation: We cannot hear you.) Turns out, that the song task was in order for our counselors to find us and surprise us, but in the end, they were in the wrong cemetery. Our last and most challenging task of the day was to find a nice Israeli Jewish family to stay with for the night. When one finds oneself in that situation, the only thing that one can do is to start knocking on doors…so that is exactly what we did. We entered the nearby kibbutz, Kibbutz Mishkenot, (where Meir Ariel grew up) and began to knock. In the first house, a girl about age 17 answered. She told us that we could not stay, but that we could come in and have some coffee for a while. We attempted to explain to her what exactly we were doing, but it all sounded a little too farfetched. After searching for a warm and welcoming family in the strangely dark kibbutz, we found our savior: a wonderful young lady, around 23 years old. She promised to find us a home to stay in. The four of us sat in her one room apartment, while she called just about every member of the kibbutz. Amidst the phone calls, all of her friends seem to congregate in her one room apartment. It became a group effort to find us a place to stay. In the end we stayed in the youth lounge of the Kibbutz. True, it was not a family’s home, yet we met some of the most generous and hospitable people. Our night ended at about 1:30 am, when after a failed attempt to solve the next clue with only a tanach and a cellphone, Omri gave us very specific directions. We were told: Be on the 6:40 am train from Binyamina to Akko, take a taxi to a specific bus stop in Carmiel, and when you get there call Fatmah.

We followed our directions perfectly. We called Fatmah, crossed the street, got into her car (still with absolutely NO idea what was going on), and entered the Arab village of Ba’neh. We sat silently in her car for a few minutes until she pulled into a driveway and said, “This is not my house, this is Muhammad’s house.” What? We have no clue what is happening. Muhammad who? Turns out that we found ourselves at the home of Muhammad Bakri—the well-known Arab actor/director. We entered his house, with no directions given (to him or us) we simply began to talk. He began by saying, “This is my cousin, Fatmah. She understands me. There is a lack of understanding in the world…” And from there we launched into a 2 ½ hour incredibly intense discussion about Arab-Israeli relations. Other highlights of the day: ending up on the wrong side of Carmiel and finding a shopping cart (AKA: 10 minutes of pure bliss) on the way back, getting free food from the Carmiel Municipality, repelling in the rain into a giant hole at Har Gamal, a folk dance class, giving blood, and meeting an Argentinean Reform family that fed us well. True, the day was jam-packed with interesting tasks, but the last few tasks of the day were by far the most bizarre. That second night, our task was to find a restaurant that would allow us to work in order to earn a meal. After semi-successfully completing that task, we began the task of asking strangers on the street to share their secrets with us. During this time, a fellow group mate, Eden, fainted. That is usually the product of lack of sleep, dehydration, and giving blood all in one day. After some time spent at the Magen David Adom (red cross), where we attempted to explain ourselves to medics who barely believed us, we completed the last task of the night: to be homeless. Overcome by exhaustion, our sense of reason was severely diminished. We slept in the first covered place that we found…barely paying attention to the sign that hung above our heads. It read: Smile for the camera. Next to it there was a picture of a smiley face and a gun. In retrospect, we probably could have found a safer place.

The next day, our amazing adventure came to a close. We woke up at 5 am (again), and got on a bus to Haifa. We were the only passengers on the bus and within moments collapsed into a deep sleep. An hour and a half later I woke up in a crowded bus. There we met other groups from the Mechina, and did our best to follow the rules and ignore each other. By 10 am, the whole Mechina was reunited again and we spent the entire day sharing our experiences with each other. I gave up on three days with my mother for this. Yet in 20 years I will not remember that I did not see her; I will, however, remember this outrageous and monumental survival experience. My experience and memories exist only between Uri, Eden, Yudko, and myself. During those three days I got to know my group mates much better—not because we had deep discussions (for there was no time for that), but more I was given the opportunity to learn about their characters by watching their response to real and challenging situations. The four of us share an extraordinarily special mutual experience; it exists between us, and will remain that way. Every member of the Mechina left this grand adventure humbled. Help is something that I have learned to request from people a lot, yet for the first time most of the participants were put in the position where they had to ask for food, shelter, and other basic needs. Along with the humbling, the amazingly powerful goodness of humanity flooded our experience. People, strangers, helped every step of this journey. Moral: Good people exist in this world. A refreshing concept.

The next BIG EVENTS: Shabbat in Me’ah She’arim and Purim in Kibbutz Yahel.

For those who do not know, Me’ah She’arim is the most religious neighborhood in Jerusalem. Only a 5 minute walk from the hustle and bustle of the center of town, one feels like they have entered an entirely different and foreign world. In this world, the slightest difference in clothing, length of payis, and size of hat defines one’s family history and beliefs. Before our exposure to this world, we were taught to notice these small details, taught to differentiate between the Belz Hasidim and the Gur Hasidim. The boy and girls were separated the entire Shabbat, and both groups underwent very different, yet equally powerful experiences. The girl experience began with Kabbalat Shabbat, at the great Belz synagogue. It is supposedly the biggest and grandest synagogue in existence. During services, the women sat tucked away on the second floor. We strained our eyes to look through our only windows (which came in the form of tiny white diamonds) on a completely white wall, to grasp whatever shred of the experience that we could. After shul, we split up into groups to be hosted for dinner. The family that hosted us forgot that we were coming entirely, but had no problem adding on 9 more seats for the surprise guests. The hospitality was unbelievable. At this home we discussed with the religious women the ideas of shidduch (arranged marriage), shomer negiyah (not touching the opposite sex), and the idea of truth. One of their justifications for shidduch was: why go through the difficult and painful experiences, filled with yeses, no’s, indecision, and trials when you can simply wait until you are ready to marry. If you marry when you are ready, then you can simply bypass the difficulties. After this explanation, my good friend Tamar exclaimed, “Wow, that does make sense!”

We spoke to a girl our age (who plans to wed within the next few months) about how she views those who are not religious. In the kindest way possible, she told us that we are living in a lie and that she has been born into the truth. We refuted by saying that you cannot judge a person’s faith by merely passing them on the street; so many people hold similar beliefs to your own, or believe their own truths in their own way. And to my surprise, she did not disagree with us, she agreed 100%. She reminded us that even within Hasidism peoples faiths reach different depths.

Towards the end of the conversation, I found myself arguing with a woman about the idea of love. Judaism is a loving religion. And because of that, I simply could not understand why the religion does not include the “falling in love” process. Love is an important part of the human experience, as is touch. Why is the goal of marriage and procreation so defined here? The woman I spoke to believed very strongly that one cannot “build” love before marriage. Only within marriage can one build this connection. I still disagree, and view it as slightly backwards, but it was still refreshing to see a different opinion. As I said, I view this as such a large part of being human. Yet, after the weekend, I also understood that the Orthodox idea of “being human” is something entirely different. The goals are different.

The most difficult moment for me of the entire Shabbat occurred on Saturday afternoon, just after lunch. Before the birkat was recited, the men sang shabbas songs. Music is my strongest link to the religion. Yet in an Orthodox home, if men are present, a woman may not sing. I sat there, listened to songs that I loved, yet remained silent. It was an extremely stifling and frustrating experience. Why should the woman’s voice be silenced? Supposedly it may distract the man; however, I view it as more negative and symbolic than that. The silencing of women in Judaism is not something that I understand or can accept. For much of the weekend, I felt that we were “missing out” on the experience by not being allowed to participate in anything…until I understood that this IS the quintessential woman’s place in the Ultra-Orthodox world. This experience made me proud to come from a liberal Jewish background, where I have a place to give.

Transition to Purim…

In Saint Louis, my Purim memories were filled with small children, ridiculous skits, costumes, raffles, and a megillah reading. This year, it was slightly different. For the first time this year, we closed two Shabbats together. They were an intense two weeks for me, with the weekend in Me’ah Shearim in the middle, so I feared that I would not be able to muster up the energy for this weekend in Kibbutz Yahel. Yet the moment I walked down the steps of the bus and smelled the wonderful stench of cows, I was happy to return. Seriously, it was so nice to be back in a place where space, air to breathe, and the color green existed. Sometimes it is difficult for me to truly understand time in the Mechina. My best method of understanding all that we have undergone is by returning to places where we once were, for it forces me to close the circle. When I return, I tend to reminisce, view the group as it was then, ponder what place I inhabited—in the group, mentally, emotionally—and then compels me to fast forward and evaluate myself in my present state. Collectively, as a group, and individually, we had come a long way since our week of work in the Kibbutz in November. This weekend was stress free and filled with dance parties, alcohol (for it is a mitzvah afterall!), costumes, and ridiculous memories. It is by far a highlight of my year in the program, and was the best way to end a stressful two weeks.

NEXT EXPERIENCE: Lech Lecha.

Lech Lecha m'artzecha, mi'moladitcha, mi'beyt avicha— go forth from your land, your birthplace and your family

The premise: Choose something you know nothing about. Then what? Experience it.

Ah, one of my perpetual challenges of life: the process of choosing. Now was especially difficult, for I had to choose the thing that I knew the least about and which interested me the most. What interests me? No, really. What REALLY interests me? People. Religion. Culture. I thought, perhaps Bahai, or Sufi Islam. I ended up in a territory very foreign to me: Bedouins. Daphne Resnick, Nof Gur, and I ventured to Khashem Zena, an unregistered Bedouin village. Our sheirut left from Beer Sheva and within 10 minutes we were dropped off at the side of the road. Our host, Atia, graciously picked us up, we drove on the highway for about 40 seconds and then he sharply turned the car onto a dirt undefined road. Suddenly we left civilization that we knew and entered the Bedouin culture. The entire family—8 of the 9 children and some of their own children—greeted us as the house, and from the very first moments offered us food. Food was a pretty strong theme for those three days. In fact, Nof and Daphne decided that to change the name of the activity to “Shev Lecha,” which means “sit” rather than the intended name of the experience “go.” We sat and ate. For three straight days. This may sound dull, but this is what it means to be a Bedouin woman. Their lives are confined to the village and home, it is all that they know. We participated in every other activity that they did during the day, including herding the sheep and donkey everyday, working in the Gan, and sitting in on a Hebrew lessons. While herding the sheep on our first there I made an observation: These people are really happy. They are satisfied with simplicity. They are satisfied because they do not know anything else. They do not yearn for gadgets or the current popular items. They value deeper, more permanent, connections; such as connection with family, land, and history. Perhaps opportunities get in the way and inhibit one from happiness. When one knows that he always has the option of something better, then he always strives towards that goal. Yet that “better” is a perpetual goal that will not be reached during this age of advancement. I feel lucky to live in the modern world, yet there is a good chance that my view of happiness is skewed because of it. As I read once, “Things don’t matter. People matter.”

These three days were filled new forms of communication and a whole lot of patience. A language barrier is no foreign concept to me; I have been bursting it the whole year. Yet I felt the barrier most strongly in Khashem Zena. Only the father truly spoke Hebrew, for he was the only one who worked outside the village. The woman slightly understood and spoke even less. A nice example was the first day when we were herding the sheep, Mohat began to throw rocks over our heads, nearly hitting Daphne. We tried to communicate to him to stop by throwing out whatever appropriate Arabic words we knew, yet nothing seemed to work. Daphne, a nervous laugher, could not stop laughing. And because she was laughing, the kids figured that it was okay and continued to pelt us with rocks. Huge attempts were made from all participating parties to understand one another. We experienced moments when neither side understood the other, and all we could do was laugh awkwardly and attempt again. At some point, we began to appreciate each other despite the lack of direct communication. It is one of those moments when external barriers collapse and people can simply connect on a human level.