Mechina

One in 44: A Mechina Photography Project

2010-12-09T22:44:00.000-08:00

The second installation:

One in 44: A Mechina Photography Project

2010-10-10T14:23:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-08-31T10:43:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-08-31T09:58:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-06-02T06:06:00.000-07:00

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)

2010-04-20T11:51:00.001-07:00

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...

2010-04-20T11:38:00.000-07:00

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.

Moments of "light"

2009-12-18T07:25:00.000-08:00

Since about March of 2009, every time that I realize the date I have a mini-"freak out," or brief moment where I am paralyzed shock. Why? I am not sure that I can explain. It is just the small realization everyday that time is uncontrollably flying by, and the hope that I am using my time to its maximum potential. I am beginning this post on December 18th. Wow. This means that I have been in Israel for nearly 5 months, and in the Mechina for 4 months. That is a substantial amount of time. I always viewed December as some sort of milestone in my process this year. Perhaps it is the way that I understand time, which is sort of an ellipse, or running track, with August at one end and December at the other. In my mind, to finish December is to take a huge sharp turn on this track and to see the next length span out into the distance. A turn usually means that one has already accomplished/overcome half the distance. However, it is hard for me to idly accept this turn when I am still unsure of what I have achieved up until this point. So rather than attempting to truly fill you in on every detail of how I have been spending my year, I will instead continue with the theme of the Hanukkah Seminar that we just finished this past week, and focus on the "moments of light."

We will rewind some time back to what I still believe was the most demanding week in the Mechina, in terms of the schedule. It was the week before we participated in a joint shabbat with Netzer (the strand of the Reform youth group that exists in England, Australia, and South Africa) gap year program. An incredible aspect of the Mechina is how it lends the opportunity to every single participant, even those who one might not label as a leader, to take responsibility, lead, and give to the group. This was my first opportunity to truly plan and lead a program in the Mechina. I was petrified, but it was about time. Most of that non-stop week was made even more crazy because of the fact that we threw this weekend together only the week before the actual event. [[SIDE NOTE: For all who do not know- the Mechina's schedule is ridiculously intense. We finish everyday around 10 pm, and if one has cleanup duties then the day ends even later. And before the day ends, if one's schedule allows for it, there may be one hour of free time.]] The craziness of this particular week began on wednesday- we had a program with Josh Laufer, a lecturer from PEACE NOW, and a program with the Mechina that we hosted for the night- Mechina Meitzar. The program ended at 12. We woke up at 3 am to embark on our full day tiyul up north in Zevitan. Although I would in NO WAY define myself as a hiker, the hikes that we go on every other week are one of my favorite things about the Mechina. As the week goes on, the combination of the classes, volunteering, and separation between the groups builds; the hikes always seem to arrive at the perfect time, exactly when the group needs it. For a full day, we venture out beyond the confines of our building, and Yafo, and walk and talk. This particular hike was just the perfect amount of difficulty for me. It was in the North, so clearly some of the greenery and sights were stunning. On this hike, our first stop was a body of water. Rather than get into the freezing water the normal way, Nof, Gabriella, and myself decided to jump from the cliff. Not the smartest idea we have ever had, but we decided to do the most exhilarating thing that we c0uld have possibly done at that moment. Nof jumped first. Then Gabriella attempted...chickened out. Okay, I stood on the ledge next. As I stood there i realized that it looked a lot higher and scarier in that spot than it had looked when I had made the silly decision to jump. Perhaps I'll turn back now? Still time. No chance. Stop thinking, and jump. So I did. It was thrilling to fly through the air for a good long second and then plunge into the freezing water. True, the cliff was not so high, it was essentially a "safe" risk, yet the task was still daunting. I feel that this moment perfectly explains the type of leap that I took when deciding to participate in the Mechina. It was a leap, yes, but the safest leap that I could have taken. As Naami, my aunt, told me the night before I began my year journey she told me: "Imagine that you are jumping from an airplane. You have a parachute on your back, a net below you, and angels flying around you." Yes, I leaped into a new program, environment, language, and culture, but came with one of the strongest support systems that I have. My family in Jerusalem and the supportive environment of the Mechina offer me the strength or type-of-"bravery" to take these leaps.

The friday after this hike, we all woke up early and piled into the bus. We were on our way to our first tour of South Chevron. Chevron is one of the largest cities in the West bank, and also one of the most complex and troubled places in this country. Many religious Jews feel strongly tied to the land, as do many Palestinians. If I am not mistaken (I may be however), parts of Chevron were given back to the Palestinians, who have lived on the land for years, yet the settlements persist. The clash between these two groups of people unfortunately yield violent outcomes. If the Mechina is about anything, it is about "process." These tours of Chevron were a process. On the first tour we spoke to a soldier that served in Southern Chevron, learned the history of the land, the rules that apply there and were exposed to the beliefs of the Palestinians living in the area. Our speaker, the former soldier, was a man who went to a school that many Mechinistim went to, and also chose to do a year in Mechina. He spoke of his experiences in Chevron where he was told to destroy homes (which ended up being the incorrect homes), evict people from their homes in the middle of the night, and do a plethora of immoral actions. His account shook every member of the Mechina. Every person in the Mechina [besides myself] will inevitably begin their army service after we conclude this year in the Mechina. One of the sole purposes of Mechinot is to teach its participants how to think for themselves, to lead, and to be aware. The speaker told us that it does not matter how much one is taught to think for himself, or the morality that he learns from school or his family, when placed in that situation all that one knows goes out the window. To a group who feel that they are moral beings and independent thinkers, it was a difficult statement to hear. The last stop of the day was the Palestinian village of Susia. There we sat in the tent of a Palestinian family and heard a personal account of what it means to live in that area, the difficulties and dangers that come with it, the neglect they receive from the soldiers in the area, and the essential commodities that they lack. The man explained that he is second generation in Chevron, that they have no running water or electricity, and that in order to educate their children they have to send them away to boarding schools. He told accounts of extreme settlers that came into their village (which is essentially composed of falling-apart tents that are spread out across the desert floor) and used an axe to kill the Palestinian residents, while a nearby army watchtower viewed and did nothing. In short, everyone loaded the bus for the final time with a suffocating feeling of helplessness. Many were unaware of the happenings in Chevron, and simply left in shock. I, on the other hand, was aware, yet it did not make it any easier to witness and hear. The moment that touched me most was when I saw the Palestinian's children. It is upsetting to know that they are unavoidably bound to a future filled with the same perpetual struggle that they all face when living in that area. Listening to this family also added weight to the small question that always sits hidden away in the back of my mind, yet sometimes arises in moments of difficulty and questioning- it is the question of if I feel/agree with the importance and legitimacy of the land, and the state of Israel in general. The second time we visited the area we heard from the settlers. This time we learned to second side to the story. Personally, I found this perspective to be more intriguing. Never in my life have I spoken to people this extreme. They live on the land for they feel that it is their moral and religious duty. It is based purely on faith and on nothing else. One on hand, I respect their strong beliefs- for I am a moderate person who is still in the process of forming beliefs, but will still never have beliefs that rigid- and on the other hand I find little reason in what they are doing, and simply cannot comprehend where they are coming from.

MOVING ALONG:
After the hike, tour, and shabbat with Netzer the whole Mechina attended the Atzeret Rabin- the memorial rally for Yitchak Rabin. The atmosphere of the rally was incredibly positive and placed the emphasis more on the possibility of peace then on the death of Yitzchak Rabin. After that short stop we loaded the bus and drove all the way south to Kibbutz Yahel, (one of the Reform Kibbutzim in Israel), for a week of work! For five days we awoke at 4:45 am, lathered ourselves in sunscreen, and loaded the truck to go to work. Our first task: stack mesh bags that were used to pick dates. We worked for about 9 hours a day. In spite of the fact that it was probably the MOST boring job we could have been given, we passed the time splendidly with songs and ridiculous games that involved acting like animals. When we finished that job, our next task was to pick up all of the leftover scraps from the date trees. During these moments we very much missed the easy sack-stacking job. Now we spent hours being pricked by the sharpest branches and ending the day with our bodies covered in tiny red spots. In short: not enjoyable.

The week of work in the kibbutz was such a refreshing experience. Do not get me wrong, I love Yafo. It is the first time that I have ever lived in a city in my life, and the amount to explore is limitless. Yet, spending the week on the kibbutz reminded me of how much I crave for space, how much I miss the color green, and the act of simply sitting outside. For the first time since the beginning of the Mechina, I found the space to sit and have very intense discussions with just one other person- which is entirely impossible in the Mechina building. The week also gave everyone the chance to leave all of the questions, difficulties, and issues involving the Mechina, back in Yafo. For one week, I had the gift of not worrying about the happenings of the Mechina, and the opportunity to think about real, more concrete, things which I had pushed to the side for months. While in the Kibbutz I thought very much about the way of life of a kibbutznik, and all their unique gains by growing up in this type of environment.

NEXT BIG EVENT: A week in the army!
We came back from the week of work exhausted, yet satisfied and ready to (FINALLY!) begin this so-called routine. Hm. Yep. That routine lasted for a good two weeks, and then we embarked on what is called the "Shavua Tzavah," or week of army service. What scared us the most about this week was that we had NO idea what to expect. The Yahalom base, a base that trains soldiers in combat and explosives, led a one week army simulation for us. It mostly simulated "basic training." This week included a sufficient amount of: being yelled at, combat portions (which = the same meal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner), performing the same task about 14 million times until we did it correctly, running around to find fallen hats, attempting to remain in "matzav shtayim" (the push up stance) for long periods of time, wearing a uniform which was approximately 14 sizes too large, and learning how to shoot the M16 guns that we constantly carried around with us. For three of these days we were in the "shetach" or the field. We slept in gigantic tents, and during the night each person had a "shmirah" (guard) duty. Not one night in the shetach was without a surprise "hakpatzah." We were woken up in the middle of the night by explosives, given about 30 seconds to put on our vests, shoes, and guns and be in specific places. On the first night we ran around for about an hour with all of this equipment. On the second night we walked and ran in two straight lines and rotated carrying around Chezi on a stretcher.
When asked to define my experience in during the shavua tzavah, the word that I overuse is interesting. But that really describes it all. For one week I was exposed to a world that I had never truly understood or thought about in-depth. My mind and feelings towards the army were stretched in so many different directions. The week was quite hard for me. But in my life, it was just a week. In the lives of many of my fellow Mechinistim, this is the reality that they have to face for the next three years. We all know the term combat, but for the first time I understood what being a soldier in combat entailed, and it absolutely petrified me. Over the week, I considered all of the implications that growing up in a country where the army is mandatory has on its citizens. The hardest part for me then, and what still is difficult, is that I cannot decide if I agree with it. Not only the idea that it is mandatory, but the idea of armies in general. As an outsider spending the year in Israel, and being given the choice to enlist in the army, opens up another internal conflict. I cannot say that I agree with something being mandatory, however, choice is a scary thing. At one moment in the week I would be against the army, and at the next moment my mind would be in a completely different place. We ended our experience at a "kennes" (ceremony) for a unit that had just finished their very intense year and a half track. The ceremony was one of the most exciting events I have ever attended. As the soldiers were climbing up the mountain after a 5 day hike, I suddenly felt very strongly attached to this situation (in which i had no connection to whatsoever) and had the very strong urge to join in with everyone else and cry. I cannot imagine what it would be like to attend this type of ceremony for someone that I do know. I would bawl. In short, the week of army service opened up quite a lot of questions for me, but did not afford many answers. Luckily, it is a subject that we are constantly dealing with during this year.

And for the last big event of this post...
Although ridiculous, I very much expected myself to miss the states during December, and to yearn for the atmosphere that comes along with the American holiday season. However, I quickly learned that there was nothing to worry about. In Israel, every Christmas carol and light is replaced by the non-stop singing of Hanukkah songs for about two weeks and decorations all over the streets. In the Mechina, we had a large number of events surrounding hanukkah. The first being a program called Meirim at Yafo, or lighting up Jaffa. For an entire day every Mechina member and 60 other volunteers visited every one of the Mechina's volunteer places--we led programs, sang every hanukkah song in existence, danced, ate jelly donuts, and schmoozed. One of my stop during the day was a personal visit to an elderly woman's home with Ory Hess. She hesitated to open the door for us, for Yafo is not the safest area at dusk. In the end we entered the apartment that she lives in alone, lit the candles, recited the blessings, drank A LOT of water (she kept insisting), and heard a bit of her life story. At that point in the day, I had already been to three other places filled with smiling people. Yet this intimate encounter gave be the ability to see the amount of joy a project like this brings to people. On our way back, Ory Hess and I stopped in the middle of the neighborhood Yafo Dalet sat down and watched the sunset together.

The next day, we awoke VERY early, loaded the bus, and began our three day Hanukkah Seminar. The greatness of the Mechina is that it is mostly run by its participants; this includes the five seminars that we experience during the year. Nof, Yotam Eshed, Shai, Gabriella, Sarig, and myself took on the daunting task of planning this seminar for the entire group. Here is the way it works...The counselors say: Your region is the south. You have three empty days. Do something with them. Essentially we built a deep and meaningful process by starting at zero. Our theme (as I mentioned at the beginning of this ridiculously long post) was "Signs of Light." Our goals: Expose the Mechina to people and places that create/bring light, brighten the group's collective light, and create light in the places that we visited. Each day of the seminar is worthy of its own never-ending post, so instead of making you suffer, I'll be concise. The first stop was Sderot, where we learned about the daily dangers that the residents face. At one of our stops, we hiked up a small hill, and at the stop were exposed to an incredibly clear and near view of Gaza. About a year ago, I remember being glued to the television and newspaper following the situation there. To suddenly stand before it and have the powerful realization that it is no longer some imaginary, distant place that exists in the newspapers (that I read in the comfort of my room at home), but a real and deeply complex area, is a difficult fact to grasp. After our tour we had our opening activity, which began with everyone sitting in solitude for 30 minutes. During that time each person reflected and wrote about moments of light and darkness in his/her life--in terms of home, family, childhood, and the Mechina. The Mechina is a terribly hard program to experience, and I have had many "challenging" moments in my life, yet as I sat facing the very real Gaza and attempted to recount every moment in my life, I had a hard time finding darkness. Perhaps it was because I looked Gaza in the eye, put my own life into perspective and understood how fortunate I am, or perhaps in retrospect the moments of light are more outstanding than those of darkness. After those 30 minutes, we gathered the group, blindfolded everyone, and slowly led them into circles. One way of brightening the group's light was through communication, so we chose an interesting way to communicate. Everyone remained blindfolded throughout the discussion. They recognized the others voices, yet the beginning was scary as they spoke to an anonymous group. That night we participated in a workshop led by the dance group Hunger Adama in Mitzpe Ramon. The workshop consisted of a lot of walking around in circles, leading others in dance with their hands or heads, and no verbal communication. For one activity we were paired up with our eyes closed and told to sit back to back with our partner. We were then given a series of instructions about putting pressure on our partners back or stretching. This entire activity took about 10 minutes, where partners found themselves depending 100% on each other for support from an anonymous figure.
Other highlights: Star gazing in Sede Boker, learning about the history of Yerucham, the entire Mechina going crazy in a second hand clothing store where everything cost one shekel, learning about the Bedouin situation, visiting a school for blind children, and meeting Darfurian refugees.

Overall, the Seminar was filled with moments of light, interesting speakers, open chairs, dark places where we strained our eyes to find light, group development, reminiscing about the 4 months that had passed, and feeling of fulfillment.

Various articles...

2009-11-17T06:47:00.000-08:00

For the first Mechina newspaper I was asked to write an article that encapsulated "my experience" up until now. I was thrilled that they gave me such a specific topic. I struggled to quickly process and verbalize how I felt about my first month in the Mechina. Here is my attempt: (translation by Leora Ezrachi-Vered)

לרוב , אין זה רעיון טוב להיקלע למצב חדש כאשר אין אמצעי אמין לתקשר עם העולם החיצוני. אמצעי התקשורת שלי נלקח ממני ביום הראשון בבניין החדש. איבדתי את המחשב הנייד תוך כדי ההתרגשות האדירה של ההתחלה החדשה. איבדתי את היכולת לשלוח יד החוצה ולקבל את התמיכה מהבית ולשמור על שפיותי. זה הרי טבעי לגמרי להרגיש בסיטואציה חדשה כאילו השפיות נלקחת מאיתנו ושמערכת התמיכה המוכרת נשלפת במהירות מתחתינו. המצב הכריח אותי לפנות פנימה, אל תוך הקבוצה החדשה איתה אני חיה כדי לקבל תמיכה. למעשה, החלטתי לסמוך על קבוצה שהיא תוצר של תרבות אחרת ממה שאני מכירה.

לפני שהגעתי למכינה, הרהרתי ברעיון של מחסומים. המחסום הבולט והברור ביותר (שמרגיש שהוא תבוע על מצחי) הוא כמובן, פער השפה. לאחר מחשבה נוספת בנוגע לרעיון של "מחסום" הבנתי שמסביבי מחסומים רבים ולא רק מחסום של שפה. ישנם מחסומים ופערים של דרכי חיים שונות, אידיאולוגיות, אמונות דתיות, דעות פוליטיות וכמעט הכל יכול להוות מחסום. אני כל הזמן מגלה ומערכיה ומתמודדת עם הפערים הללו ורואה אותן בדרכים בולטות יותר ומרומזות יותר. ההבחנה הראשונה אליה הגעתי שישראלים הם פשוט רועשים יותר. הם מוחאים כפיים יותר משצריך ואוהבים לעורר ויכוחים. במובן העמוק יותר, דרכי החשיבה שלנו שונות בדרך בה אנו מבינים זהות דתית, פטריוטיות, מערכות יחסים, תפקידים מגדריים ונושאים כלליים. טרם החלטתי אם ברצוני לאמץ את נקודת המבט הישראלית בנושאים הללו אך הם בהחלט מעוררים בי עניין.

המחסומים קיימים. אני מוכנה לקבל את זה. אולם, אם נריץ אחורה לתחילת החוויה של במכינה הרגשתי קודם כל את התכונות האנושיות של חמלה והבנה. כאשר המכשיר העיקרי שלי לתקשורת עם בני משפחתי וחברי בארצות הברית נלקחו ממני הקבוצה הגיבה בצורה מדהימה. דאגתם וטוב ליבם נוגע וממשיכה לגעת בליבי. למרות שבהתחלה לא הרגשתי בהם ברור שהמחסומים עוד עומדים ביננו. יחד עם זאת המחסומים אינם מגדירים את החוויה שאני עוברת (עד כה) במכינה. קשה להרגיש בהבדלים כשאנחנו מכינים ארוחת בוקר ביחד, שוחים בים או רוכבים על אופניים בלילות בתל אביב. הדברים העיקריים הם דומים. אנו חולקים מטרה משותפת ומטרה זו ממלא אותי בהרבה יותר תקווה ושמחה מאשר כל מחשב או פריט חומרי אחר.

It is never ideal for one to be thrown into a new situation without a dependable means to connect with the outer, more familiar, world. My outlet was taken on the first day in our new building. I lost the computer while we were distracted by the excitement of a fresh start. I lacked the option to reach outward for comfort and to maintain my sanity—for it is completely normal for one in a new situation to feel one's sanity slip away as one's support system is entirely ripped out from beneath her. The situation forced me to turn inward to this new concept of group living to obtain the desired support. Essentially, I decided to depend on a group that is a product of a different culture.

Before my arrival at the Mechina, I pondered the very relevant idea of barriers. The clear and present (although always diminishing) barrier stamped on my forehead is the language. After further thought on the notion of a "barrier," I understand that I am surrounded by many other boundaries, not solely the language. Barriers exist between ways-of-life, mind-set, political ideologies, religious beliefs, and nearly everything. I continually discover, appreciate, and cope with these disparities, and view them in the largest and smallest ways. The first simple observation that I made is that Israelis are louder. They clap way more than necessary and happily engage in provoking arguments. On a deeper level, our thought processes differ in terms of how we understand the complex subjects of religious identity, patriotism, relationships, gender roles, and general manners. I have yet to decide if I wish to adopt any of the Israeli perspective on these issues, but they interest me nonetheless.

Barriers undoubtedly exist. I am willing to accept that. However, if we rewind to the beginning of my Mechina experience, the universal human characteristics of compassion and understanding struck me first. When my primary means of communication with my family and friends was taken, the group reacted in an incredible way. I continue to be deeply touched by their concern and kindness. Although I did not initially feel them, it is clear to me that the barriers remain; yet barriers in no way define my experience (thus far) in the Mechina. It is difficult to feel the differences when we prepare breakfast together, swim at the beach, or bike ride through Tel Aviv at night. The important matters are the same. We share a common goal, and that goal fills me with much more comfort and hope than any computer or other material object could.

Searching for home.

2009-11-16T12:40:00.000-08:00

Our Seminar Sukkot began in Har Halutz, a yishuv founded by Reform Jews who made aliyah. The theme for the seminar was "חיפוש "or "Searching." Each day we explored a different form of searching and a different idea or object that we search for, whether it be abstract or concrete.

I identified most strongly with the day when we discussed the subject of "searching for home." Every member of the Mechina is currently undergoing this tough process of searching, finding, and building our home together. However, the leaders of the seminar felt that it would be powerful to hear from a member of the Mechina. So they picked me. I reluctantly said yes. Although it is something that I have whined through yet achieved time and time again, public speaking is not my favorite pastime. But I said yes. As someone who constantly seeks and requests the help of others and the patience of the whole Mechina, I felt that it was my time to help out in the smallest way possible. If there is anything that I can lend, anything that is certain, it is my personal experiences. I began my short talk by clarifying that I am not here to educate, I do not bear novel concepts. I am here to share. First I answered the question, "What is home for me?" Well, I was born and raised in Saint Louis, Missouri. Not the most interesting city in the world, but interesting enough. We contributed our fair share to society--such as the ice cream cone. I also added that my mother refers to Saint Louis as a "life sentence," yet I am the product of two non-native Saint Louisans, therefore this label does not apply to me. I have strong ties to my home and community, yet I in no way feel tied to them permanently. Also, when discussing "what is home for me?" I am forced to associate the word "warmth" with my lovely home. My parents very successfully built a warm home for me and for those around me. All of my friends felt comfortable to simply drop by, hang out with my mom, or steal food from our kitchen. The next question that seemed to concern everyone in the first few weeks of the program was, "how do you cope?" I answered honestly. It is very hard for me to find the time in our jam-packed schedule to breathe, process, and truly think about home. Yes, I have my moments. Especially as time passes, I begin to feel the absence of home, for the longer I am here and as the intensity increases, I grasp for any piece of home that I can find.

If I were given the opportunity to go home right now, I would not take it. My family, the thing that grounds me, still remains there. Yet, my friends, a gigantic piece of my "home" are absent. If I returned now, it would not feel like home. I am willing to accept that. After graduating high school, we all entered a period in our lives where we must learn to build transitory homes. Lastly I answered the question "How do I build a home here?" As someone in the middle of the process, it is hard for me to lend a concrete solution. A home is a complex vessel. When I first arrived in Israel, I felt like a complete outsider. Especially as a Jew who feels very connected to this place, it was difficult for me to reconcile feeling like someone on the fringes of society in my home for the year. That feeling has certainly diminished in the Mechina. So do I feel at home here? Well, (AT THE TIME OF THIS SEMINAR I ANSWERED) not yet. But I have time. It is difficult to define what makes a home. After returning to Jerusalem every free weekend, I have understood that family alone does not make a home. It took me time to feel at home in my family's house. So what does make a home? My two associations with the word "home" are effortless and comfort. However, in order to build the home it requires one to try and to put forth an absurdly large amount of effort. The ultimate goal is to feel that it requires no effort to inhabit ones position in the group, in our home. Until we create that comfort, I find comfort in what I can. Sometimes it is the language that I crave, sometimes it is smaller objects and moments that are significant to me. For example, at home I have a pool. In Yafo, I have the sea. At home I bake challah with my mother. In Yafo, I bake challah with Yudko. Home is a fluid and malleable concept. My parents showed me one form of a home, and every home that I build will retain some of its core characteristics. Yet, I find those replacements while I am simultaneously open, willing, and ready to embrace new customs and concepts of home.

MORE ON THE SEMINAR:
In Har Halutz I experienced the most spirited simchat torah hakafot. All of the mechinistim, the community in har halutz, and the alumni of the mechina were together. It was amazing to see the strength of the connection that the alumni still feel towards the Mechina. After the hakafot, we split up into groups of three to eat shabbas dinner with host families. Nadav Marmur, Matan Ben Or, and myself were placed with an American family who had made aliyah 6 weeks early. We had a really wonderful time, but the fun began after dinner. This family had a hot tub, and told us that we were absolutely welcome to use it whenever we wanted to, we just had to be quiet. After we returned from dinner and finished our "wrap up the day" discussion, we decided to return to the hot tub. Matan, Marmur, Yudko and myself sat in the jacuzzi and stargazed silently for a long while. We came without a watch or an agenda. It was exhilarating. We just sat there, with a phenomenal view of the lights of the surrounding yishuvim and arab villages, and I processed all that I had done during my first month in the mechina. At some point, the jets were turned on. As I said, we did not bring a watch. At some late hour we decided that it was time to leave, so Matan pressed the button to stop the jets. Nothing happened. He tried again. nothing. Him and Yudko filled with the buttons for a while, holding it down, tapping it lightly....nothing. After twenty minutes, although it was never said, we all panicked a bit. I said something to the affect of, "What happens if we cannot fix it?" And Matan answered with, "That is not a possibility." In the end, we could not fix it. So I bravely dressed, and walked up to the front door of the family at some ridiculous hour of the night. I knocked as someone was locking the door from the inside. I am positive that I scared one of the children entirely. After a few minutes the father came down and I explained the situation. I was expecting a mean reaction, but the first thing that came out of his mouth was, "Aw, I'm so happy that you all enjoyed yourselves!" That squelched my guilt slightly, to see that he was not angry. The boys waited for me as I finished getting dressed by the jacuzzi. The second I began to walk away, the jets mysteriously turned off. After a good half an hour of panic, they turned off. It turns out they were on a timer. Hm, it is the memories like these, the absolutely absurd ones that i hold onto the most.

Other quick notes: We also walked to a neighboring Arab village and talked to Druzim there about their religion, culture, and ties to the state of Israel. We then visited a various places, including a Mechina for the physically disabled. It was a powerful experience. We had some discussion time where we asked each other questions. Inbal asked how the Mechina was helping them with their lifestyles and what it gave to them. I expected some great sweeping answer, but one of the girls answered by saying, "Before i joined the Mechina I had never even thought about the possibility of taking a bus or traveling by myself." In the Telem Mechina, we travel by bus alone every two weeks. It was never something that I had even considered as a potential obstacle for someone. The entire experience truly offered us a difficult dose of perspective.

The other pictures from the seminar and from October, in general...

First month at a glance...

2009-10-19T11:02:00.001-07:00

I know that blogs are supposed to be gradual...but I missed out on almost two months of adding photos and moments. So I am currently doing my best to catch you all up, and once i accomplish that THEN, only then, can I discuss what is going on with me now. I will attempt to do the "update" in two posts, each one pertaining to a month that has passed....but who knows, it may become a few more....

So sit back, breathe, and enjoy this long, long, long entry.

In the second week, we woke up at 3 am one morning. Why? To go pray Slichot before Rosh Hashanah, of course. We all rolled out of bed, drank shoko b'sakit (translation = chocolate milk in a bag, for all of the sad people out there who have never experienced this), put on our modest clothing, and walked to a Sephardic synagogue. Sadly, I spent most of the service standing on my toes trying to see over the separation; yet it was an interesting experience nonetheless.

After the Slichot at 3 am, the entire group walked to the beach where we performed our own version of tashlich- a ceremony in which one throws away one's sins into water.

One of the things that I had anxiously anticipated, and that we spent HOURS discussing in the first week, was how to "do" Shabbat in the Mechina. Shabbat is extremely personal. Each person understands it and observes in an entirely unique way. I always receive the question: Do you keep shabbat? And for the longest time I answered, "Yes. It may not be your definition of
"keeping shabbat," yet I observe it." However, in the last two weeks my answer to the question has changed. My idea of shabbat has greatly opened up, and I'm not even sure if I would consider myself as someone who "keeps shabbat." Currently, i am just doing my best to find what feels right; what feels the most meaningful to me. Although we made many decisions, (in my opinion) thus far, every shabbat has been an entirely different experience. We are still very much figuring out how to make shabbas work, and how to make it meaningful for everyone. The texture of each shabbat feels differently, and different aspects reach out to me depending on the week...For example, my favorite moment of the first shabbat was a small tiyul that Gabriella, Errel, and myself took in Old Yafo. In the second shabbat, it was the spontaneous oneg shabbat that occurred after dinner. I am not complaining. I enjoy surprises. However, routine is something that I find much comfort in. So I am patient. I anxiously await the day when I look forward to some ritual that is specifically meaningful to every member of the Mechina...but until then, we are still experimenting.

This is how we communicate with our neighbors across the hall.

IN SHORT: the first month flew by. It was filled with an opening seminar, MANY hours spent in rooms making decisions about shabbat, kashrut and tefillah, learning how to live in an apartment with 3 girls and 7 boys, a first aid course, getting to know Yafo, and experiencing the high holidays in Israel.

A note on the high holidays: It is very bizarre to experience the high holidays in a certain way for your entire life, and then for it to suddenly change. For me, it was difficult to connect with Rosh Hashanah in Israel. It simply did not feel like the Rosh Hashanah I am used to-- you know, the holiday always filled with very long and sometimes painful services, the 5 million people that you do not see the rest of the year, and the catching up with friends. However, Yom Kippur, although different, struck me as much more meaningful in Jerusalem. It was a powerful experience. In Saint Louis, I am used to missing school on Yom Kippur, driving to shul, fasting while everyone in the outside world is eating, and passing the time with my friends. Yet in Israel, Yom Kippur does not just belong to the religious, or those who choose to observe it. It belongs to everyone. The atmosphere is simply filled with meaning, understanding, cleansing.
In the evening, we went to Kol Nidre at HUC to hear my aunt Naami Kelman deliver a sermon, which I especially connected to, for half of the content discussed my family's roots. I was blown away by Naami's oratory skills, I am sure that she moved everyone with her speech. The line that I remember most clearly was when we firmly said, "Even when you think that God has abandoned you, do not abandon God."
After the service, Daphi and I left the Hebrew Union College in our white garb and began to walk towards Emek Refayim in the center of the road. In most situations, (ESPECIALLY IN ISRAEL) it is quite dangerous to wander in the middle of the road. However, on Yom Kippur, one of the aspects that adds to the change in atmosphere is the lack of transportation. Only hundreds of people traveling by feet and the bikers took advantage of the abandoned roads. As we approached Emek Refayim, all I could see was a wave of white. Hundreds of fasting (and non-fasting) people covered in white clothing had gathered at what seemed like "schmooze central." I found a nice little group of Mechina members, and stood with them as I processed how wonderful it was to see them outside of the framework of the Mechina.

During the first month, I returned to Jerusalem 4 times. The first time was a relief, but after that it became too much. All I wanted to do was settle in somewhere, yet I was absolutely prevented from doing that. It took some time to figure out how to deal with the coming-and-going. It seems to me that it is simply another component of the Mechina, learning to be flexible and to deal with change.

the beginning.

2009-10-18T09:32:00.000-07:00

I'm not so sure where to start with the pictures, so we will rewind 6 weeks to the beginning...that seems fitting. These were a few of the first photographs that I took on our Opening Seminar. We had just discussed the area (which was between Jerusalem and Tel Gezer), and finished a bonding activity in which we each led our blind-folded pair up a million stairs. At the top we sat down and prepared our first meal together...and me, not knowing exactly what to do with myself, took out my camera.

During one activity on the third day of the Opening Seminar, we were split up into groups. The only supplies that we were given were flour, one bowl, a block of cheese, and some tomato sauce. It was up to the group to make a creative lunch. In the end, we made pizza.

To sum up the Opening seminar in a few words: We walked a lot, talked in pairs, had a small taste of the type of discussions that awaited us in the Mechina concerning kashrut, shabbat, tefillah (prayer), and more. I'll be honest. I expected the absolute WORST from this beginning. I went in believing that I would understand nothing, make no connections, have a terrible time....Yet I am happy to report, that it was an amazing beginning. There was an immediate calmness to the group which I have never encountered in all of my experiences with new people. Everyone was supportive and interested from the first moments. This last picture was taken at the end of the Seminar as we gazed into an incredible view of Israel at dusk. Aharale made sure to point out Yafo. We then loaded the bus and arrived at our new home.

Sorry for the lack of interesting descriptions about the Opening Seminar. This is quite new to me. I'll improve. promise.

Why?

2009-10-17T02:28:00.000-07:00

I do not understand blogs.

Pause. rewind.

That is not entirely true. I understand the purpose of a blog and very much enjoy reading about the exciting adventures of others, yet I am unable to picture myself as a blogger. Similar to how one is not a "morning person" or a "beach person," I simply am not a "blog person." Blogs tend to reflect who the writer is in many (or few) words, how the writer understands her situation, and what she learns from it. However, words have never been my strength. Images are. I have willingly lugged my big-ish Nikon D60 with me to almost every interesting (and not so interesting) location that we have been to in the Mechina thus far, and I have captured some incredible moments. To spot the perfect image, snap the picture, and hear the swift sound that the camera makes is an exhilarating feeling. But what about after? Sharing my pictures after is an area that needs much improvement. Photographs are meant to be shared. Especially now, when I am so far away from my family and friends, and rarely get the opportunity to truly update them. So this semi-blog is the perfect outlet to share my experience and point of view to all who care to see them. I will do my absolute best to post photos regularly (no promises though!) with descriptions, and maybe even write down an occasional thought. I am starting this blog with an open mind. I have a vision for it, yet i understand that a blog is a fluid concept. It may start out with images, switch to words, I may write many entries or none, there is also the possibility of it trailing off in some unforeseen direction. So please, bear with me as I begin this new cyber-adventure in an attempt to share my true and concrete explorations.

Enjoy.

P.S. Tomorrow I will begin to put up the pictures. Also, tomorrow is a big day. we start our classes and volunteering...wish me luck! I'm really, REALLY, going to need it.

PPS. Props to Tamar, my wonderful roommate, who developed this idea of a photo blog and encouraged me to do it.