muslims make a haj to visit mecca, where muhammed founded islam. christians go to a number of places: bethlehem where jesus was born, jerusalem where he was crucified, and basically everywhere jesus did anything. jews come to jerusalem to see: a wall. this is not just any wall though; it is the remaining wall of the second jewish temple destroyed by titus of the romans not long after the birth of christ. this temple, like the first one destroyed by those dastardly babylonians, housed many things, like an altar for sacrifices, a big golden menorah, and a bunch of stuff that priests used to obey G-d's command and to please Him by doing various things with them. but the most important thing in the temple was the shechina, or G-d's physical presence on earth, which was housed in the Holy of Holies (kadosh kedoshim). this wall is the closest one can get to the burial place of the shechina, which supposedly still exists in a secret underground hiding place beneath the...... dome of the rock (big mosque with a golden dome)! ...of all places. according to my guide shani, omar the conquerer and once a representative of sorts of islam, decided to build a mosque atop this site hundreds of years after the second temple's destruction, which was also the ancient site of avraham's attempted sacrifice of his son yitschak, because both it had historical holy significance and the christians left it barren. why? because jesus had made a declaration standing above the impure city of jerusalem that no bricks would be left standing here because of the unholiness of its denizens. therefore, the christians who controlled palestine would not lay one brick upon the site. in addition, muhammed spoke of a dream he had of riding a horse from a mosque in mecca to another distant one on a white horse, where he docked the horse and ascended to heaven. this mosque was to be the one in the dream. and to this day, it is treated as such. biased of course, this story, but it is interesting nonetheless.
anyway, this wall is crowded with jews of all colors, religious sects, and denominations. chasidim walk around begging for tsedaka (charity) and americans with their huge cameras pray clutching its stones. i myself got wrapped up in teffilin (look it up) and said the v'ahavta, aided by some friendly chasidic boys. i also inserted a prayer into the wall. it is said that the female spirit of god (some kabbalistic stuff) floats around the wall and brings all the prayers directly up to heaven.
more later. time running out on this computer.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
day two: jerusalem, yad hashem
it is the second day of traveling and i am pleased to be in the holy city. i am finally in the land that i have been singing about since i was introduced to hebrew prayer. we always say, "next year in jerusalem" at the end of our high holy day prayers, and look't! i just came true to my word!
the buildings of jerusalem are all built, by city mandate previously enforced by the previous righteous keepers of this city (the british), with white "jerusalem stone" in order to ensure that the city sparkles like gold at the close of every day. the dome of the rock is the most impressive sight when i gazed out over the city from a lookout point on a mountain yesterday. our guide shani was giving us a energetic speech about the history of the city from the perspectives of christianity, islam, and our own, while below two muslim families were trying to picnic peacefully on the lawn. a young girl kept scowling up at us in between bites of her sandwich while her hajabbed mother was unconcerned. a baby squealed and ran in circles on the grass. this was the closest we have been to the others of israel, and i wanted to give them some sign of friendship. but whenever i stuck out my hand meekly to wave at the frowning girl, she seemed to disregard me. i did not come here to justify my judaism, justify my zionism, or justify anything for that matter. i came to see how things really are. i am starting to see.
we looked out over the gaza border yesterday on the ride to the holy city, and we saw the new wall. according to shani it has already decreased fatalities by ninety percent. he also said that throughout history, when walls are put up for some reason or another, they always come down. well, so too do mountains crumble if a dove with a scarf sweeps its pinnacle over and over for one million years (i think some buddhist medidation exercise).
the holocaust memorial museum yod vashem was very moving. i wanted to stay all day. but more on that later.
the buildings of jerusalem are all built, by city mandate previously enforced by the previous righteous keepers of this city (the british), with white "jerusalem stone" in order to ensure that the city sparkles like gold at the close of every day. the dome of the rock is the most impressive sight when i gazed out over the city from a lookout point on a mountain yesterday. our guide shani was giving us a energetic speech about the history of the city from the perspectives of christianity, islam, and our own, while below two muslim families were trying to picnic peacefully on the lawn. a young girl kept scowling up at us in between bites of her sandwich while her hajabbed mother was unconcerned. a baby squealed and ran in circles on the grass. this was the closest we have been to the others of israel, and i wanted to give them some sign of friendship. but whenever i stuck out my hand meekly to wave at the frowning girl, she seemed to disregard me. i did not come here to justify my judaism, justify my zionism, or justify anything for that matter. i came to see how things really are. i am starting to see.
we looked out over the gaza border yesterday on the ride to the holy city, and we saw the new wall. according to shani it has already decreased fatalities by ninety percent. he also said that throughout history, when walls are put up for some reason or another, they always come down. well, so too do mountains crumble if a dove with a scarf sweeps its pinnacle over and over for one million years (i think some buddhist medidation exercise).
the holocaust memorial museum yod vashem was very moving. i wanted to stay all day. but more on that later.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
day one: tsfat, kayaking on jordan river, golan heights
actually day one was spent enduring a lengthy and trying commute that took us from JFK to Zurich after a 4 hour wait, then Zurich to Tel Aviv after another 4 hour wait. in other words, lots of waiting, lots of sitting in planes, lots of looking at expensive Swiss airport stuff and not buying it, like cans of caviar, designer handbags, 5 dollar espressos, and liver-cheese sandwiches (as delicious as that sounds i did not shell out the 10 dollars). travel, travel, travel. and when we got to Israel, who was there to greet us but a man with a beaming smile warmly saying to each of us, "welcome home." as cheesy as it sounds, and also as untrue as it was, and even as politically loaded as it might be, it still had a profound effect on me.
our tour guide is a yemenite jew (he is brown, not white) named shani with a funny english accent that makes him sound like a british-educated indian man. he has a long black ponytail and is both witty and historically knowledgeable in his speeches. however, approach him for a one-to-one question and he will spit out one-word answers and hiss unfriendly responses. he seems very tolerant of all peoples, but seems to think that muslims are stupid. a slight character flaw in my opinion, as i was expecting a venomous reproach if anyone were to even ask our guide about the muslims that live right across the border. he also believes that columbus and his entire crew, as jews, set out to find a new homeland for their people in 1492 in exchange for bringing new commerce to the spanish throne. i really don't know about that one. i've never even heard that theory.
our personal defender, first aid specialist, and chick with a big gun is Avital. she speaks english that she said she learned from tv. who knew tv could actually educate and not just melt brains like butter in the microwave? avital knew. and she watched and watched until she could kick back with american kids and talk about "hanging out" and "man, that sucks." i asked her at dinner today, "avital, i have been asking you so many questions over these two days. don't you have any questions for us americans?" the table had been silent: the guy to my left was silent as a stone, the guy to my right too nervous to open his mouth. and across the table from me, a scowling israeli girl with a big gun, shoveling cabbage salad into her mouth. she looked at me, and with that signature israeli expression that expresses both irony and intense disinterest, said simply, "no."
tsfat is known as the birthplace of kabbalah, as the zohar (apparently the book that teaches kabbalah) was written there. the city stands on a mountainside, and i was reminded of small mountain towns i hiked through in tokushima. the place is full of hippies: regular hippies, orthodox hippies, chasidic hippies. and probably sorcerers. everything is laid out in gray stone, and long stairways lead up the mountainside. we didn't get to see much of it, but i did have some decent falafel and got to peruse the judaica stands down a pleasant little alley, where sad old men hawk many kinds of mezuzah, kipa, tallis, and paintings of dancing laughing jews. i bought nothing, although i was tempted to get an enormous mural of dancing laughing jews to hang on my wall, to remind myself of happiness, good times, and good ol' fashioned jeweyness.
kayaking on the jordan was gorgeous. the river is not by any means wide; it is more like an american stream. but in israel, everything is bigger, said shani. he further remarked with an anecdote about how crossing the jordan in biblical times was considered "a miracle." there were all sorts of birds flittering about, including colorful doves, piebald crows with cream stomachs, and even a flashy kingfisher with blue patches underwing. the whole experience was serene and refreshing after spending most of the day cooped up in the bus.
and finally, the golan heights. we climbed a volcano, from the top of which we could see both syria and lebanon. it was on this site, below us near the kibbutsim that sprawled across the land, that syria had launched rockets over the border at the onset of the 1967 arab-israeli war. the landscape was saturated with history. we watched the sun set over the mountaintop. i was freezing in my soaked tee-shirt (i had fallen off the kayak after trying to retrieve a fallen shoe and suffering a collision with a fellow vessel. i clung desperately to the side as the vicious rapids tried to swallow me beneath their hungry waves. and then i just put my feet down and stood up.)
that is all for now, and perhaps i shall be more inspired to expound upon some of my party mates next time. shalom~
our tour guide is a yemenite jew (he is brown, not white) named shani with a funny english accent that makes him sound like a british-educated indian man. he has a long black ponytail and is both witty and historically knowledgeable in his speeches. however, approach him for a one-to-one question and he will spit out one-word answers and hiss unfriendly responses. he seems very tolerant of all peoples, but seems to think that muslims are stupid. a slight character flaw in my opinion, as i was expecting a venomous reproach if anyone were to even ask our guide about the muslims that live right across the border. he also believes that columbus and his entire crew, as jews, set out to find a new homeland for their people in 1492 in exchange for bringing new commerce to the spanish throne. i really don't know about that one. i've never even heard that theory.
our personal defender, first aid specialist, and chick with a big gun is Avital. she speaks english that she said she learned from tv. who knew tv could actually educate and not just melt brains like butter in the microwave? avital knew. and she watched and watched until she could kick back with american kids and talk about "hanging out" and "man, that sucks." i asked her at dinner today, "avital, i have been asking you so many questions over these two days. don't you have any questions for us americans?" the table had been silent: the guy to my left was silent as a stone, the guy to my right too nervous to open his mouth. and across the table from me, a scowling israeli girl with a big gun, shoveling cabbage salad into her mouth. she looked at me, and with that signature israeli expression that expresses both irony and intense disinterest, said simply, "no."
tsfat is known as the birthplace of kabbalah, as the zohar (apparently the book that teaches kabbalah) was written there. the city stands on a mountainside, and i was reminded of small mountain towns i hiked through in tokushima. the place is full of hippies: regular hippies, orthodox hippies, chasidic hippies. and probably sorcerers. everything is laid out in gray stone, and long stairways lead up the mountainside. we didn't get to see much of it, but i did have some decent falafel and got to peruse the judaica stands down a pleasant little alley, where sad old men hawk many kinds of mezuzah, kipa, tallis, and paintings of dancing laughing jews. i bought nothing, although i was tempted to get an enormous mural of dancing laughing jews to hang on my wall, to remind myself of happiness, good times, and good ol' fashioned jeweyness.
kayaking on the jordan was gorgeous. the river is not by any means wide; it is more like an american stream. but in israel, everything is bigger, said shani. he further remarked with an anecdote about how crossing the jordan in biblical times was considered "a miracle." there were all sorts of birds flittering about, including colorful doves, piebald crows with cream stomachs, and even a flashy kingfisher with blue patches underwing. the whole experience was serene and refreshing after spending most of the day cooped up in the bus.
and finally, the golan heights. we climbed a volcano, from the top of which we could see both syria and lebanon. it was on this site, below us near the kibbutsim that sprawled across the land, that syria had launched rockets over the border at the onset of the 1967 arab-israeli war. the landscape was saturated with history. we watched the sun set over the mountaintop. i was freezing in my soaked tee-shirt (i had fallen off the kayak after trying to retrieve a fallen shoe and suffering a collision with a fellow vessel. i clung desperately to the side as the vicious rapids tried to swallow me beneath their hungry waves. and then i just put my feet down and stood up.)
that is all for now, and perhaps i shall be more inspired to expound upon some of my party mates next time. shalom~
Thursday, May 22, 2008
the sky thunders with
droves of military helicopters above east queens. where are they all going? they shake the rows of clean shapely houses that line union turnpike as the falling rain does the aquatic flora floating in a pond.
this morning i embark again to brooklyn after having just returned after a night of revelry at an old friend's house in crown heights. i had promised to help natalie from the 4th street coop pack her possessions in anticipation of an impending move, and as i was staying over in crown heights for the night, i figured things the next day would run as smoothly as the shinkansen shooting towards shinjuku during the tokyo rush hour.
little did i remember my grandma's words the night before: would you bring the vacuum up for mary when you get home tonight? mary is my grandma's elderly black cleaning woman, a sweet feeble-looking woman hailing from rural south carolina who possesses the most charming country-side southern accent. she still cleans my grandma's house because she needs the money, and as my grandma won't trust anyone else to do the job, things have stuck. mary is on dialysis and therefore cannot move heavy things, like the vacuum cleaner. she shouldn't even be working in my opinion, but that's none of my business. however, due to my grandma's legendary stubbornness, the vacuum cleaner is conveniently kept down in the basement, despite a wealth of room on the ground floor. why? because it's always been there. a sage decision. so every time mary comes to clean, i need to drag that thing up the stairs. this is not a big deal, but if i don't do it my grandma will most certainly have to herself, and she would probably kill herself in the process. my grandma has trouble opening bottles--let alone carrying a vacuum cleaner twice her weight up a flight of stairs. in my grandma's world, everything must be done the same way it's always been done, and thus if mary does not vacuum one week, EVERYTHING WE KNOW AND LOVE WILL CEASE TO BE.
so for the sake of preventing the collapse of this our universe, i made a small sacrifice. i came all the way back to hollis hills this morning, dragged that vacuum upstairs, and sit here now waiting to leave again to help natalie. today will be spent solely on commuting. getting transported from one place to another by mass transit. much moving will be done by me today, yet the energy i expend myself shall not reflect the distance traveled. the luxuries of life in the post-industrial age.
and, upon exercising my jewish mutant ability to inflict mortal guilt upon humans, i managed to triumphantly convince my grandma to keep the vacuum upstairs in cloey the cat's room. i doubt she will care that much. i mean, she basically just shits in there.
this morning i embark again to brooklyn after having just returned after a night of revelry at an old friend's house in crown heights. i had promised to help natalie from the 4th street coop pack her possessions in anticipation of an impending move, and as i was staying over in crown heights for the night, i figured things the next day would run as smoothly as the shinkansen shooting towards shinjuku during the tokyo rush hour.
little did i remember my grandma's words the night before: would you bring the vacuum up for mary when you get home tonight? mary is my grandma's elderly black cleaning woman, a sweet feeble-looking woman hailing from rural south carolina who possesses the most charming country-side southern accent. she still cleans my grandma's house because she needs the money, and as my grandma won't trust anyone else to do the job, things have stuck. mary is on dialysis and therefore cannot move heavy things, like the vacuum cleaner. she shouldn't even be working in my opinion, but that's none of my business. however, due to my grandma's legendary stubbornness, the vacuum cleaner is conveniently kept down in the basement, despite a wealth of room on the ground floor. why? because it's always been there. a sage decision. so every time mary comes to clean, i need to drag that thing up the stairs. this is not a big deal, but if i don't do it my grandma will most certainly have to herself, and she would probably kill herself in the process. my grandma has trouble opening bottles--let alone carrying a vacuum cleaner twice her weight up a flight of stairs. in my grandma's world, everything must be done the same way it's always been done, and thus if mary does not vacuum one week, EVERYTHING WE KNOW AND LOVE WILL CEASE TO BE.
so for the sake of preventing the collapse of this our universe, i made a small sacrifice. i came all the way back to hollis hills this morning, dragged that vacuum upstairs, and sit here now waiting to leave again to help natalie. today will be spent solely on commuting. getting transported from one place to another by mass transit. much moving will be done by me today, yet the energy i expend myself shall not reflect the distance traveled. the luxuries of life in the post-industrial age.
and, upon exercising my jewish mutant ability to inflict mortal guilt upon humans, i managed to triumphantly convince my grandma to keep the vacuum upstairs in cloey the cat's room. i doubt she will care that much. i mean, she basically just shits in there.
and after a prolific lapse in entry-writing...
it appears all the bodily functions are in proper order and the brain is still churning away. splendid! there be no better conditions to compose a fresh journal entry!
so, since my last transcription much has occurred. i shall relate it all in a jumble of mismatched memory and purposely exaggerated language.
as you may not have known, journal, i was most unluckily unemployed after my previous job as science research monkey for a corrupt environmental NPO in midtown manhattan. i had no choice but to fall back into my old vices: WoW and heroin. i still applied to jobs, mostly those in the san fran bay area, but as my trip to the holy land was looming like the cleaved halves of the parted red sea, i could not put my heart into it until i had no great plans ahead of me. once i returned back home from the land of milk and honey, thought i, then i will surely make a drastic move to alter these dire circumstances. and yet before even that, gaining vocational assurance before i jump on the desert-bound plane would surely relieve me of chest-burdening loads.
so i kept up the hunt, and managed to follow up with a friend out in california who was trying to pull me into her company as a GIS technician (my decided current career goal). but in the meantime, my pockets were yielding nothing but moths, and i took it upon me to find a more humble station that would provide me with sufficient coin to continue my lifestyle of unfettered hedonism and luxury. this particular job was counterstaff at a peanut butter-themed cafe in the vicinity of washington square park, now unfortunately under construction. i made milk shakes, peanut butter shakes, peanut butter and jelly shakes, lime rickies, egg creams, ice cream sundaes oozing with peanut butter, and poured one thousand-odd cups of milk. what a rush. my coworkers were all the most darling individuals and i had a regular blast. but as all good things come to an end, this too eventually saw its demise.
so there remains a week or so until my departure from the soil of this my country, and i am quite happily unemployed and unburdened by work or duty. it is interesting that free time can only be fully appreciated when it is buffered by some kind of work. while unemployed before for a good three months, i dreaded the limitless time that threatened my sanity and intimidated me to such an extent that even the prospect of working on creative enterprises seemed impossible. but this time is much appreciated, and it even feels like a reward. job well done!
and i shall keep up this journal in israel as i did in europe for all my fans. this i have decided.
so, since my last transcription much has occurred. i shall relate it all in a jumble of mismatched memory and purposely exaggerated language.
as you may not have known, journal, i was most unluckily unemployed after my previous job as science research monkey for a corrupt environmental NPO in midtown manhattan. i had no choice but to fall back into my old vices: WoW and heroin. i still applied to jobs, mostly those in the san fran bay area, but as my trip to the holy land was looming like the cleaved halves of the parted red sea, i could not put my heart into it until i had no great plans ahead of me. once i returned back home from the land of milk and honey, thought i, then i will surely make a drastic move to alter these dire circumstances. and yet before even that, gaining vocational assurance before i jump on the desert-bound plane would surely relieve me of chest-burdening loads.
so i kept up the hunt, and managed to follow up with a friend out in california who was trying to pull me into her company as a GIS technician (my decided current career goal). but in the meantime, my pockets were yielding nothing but moths, and i took it upon me to find a more humble station that would provide me with sufficient coin to continue my lifestyle of unfettered hedonism and luxury. this particular job was counterstaff at a peanut butter-themed cafe in the vicinity of washington square park, now unfortunately under construction. i made milk shakes, peanut butter shakes, peanut butter and jelly shakes, lime rickies, egg creams, ice cream sundaes oozing with peanut butter, and poured one thousand-odd cups of milk. what a rush. my coworkers were all the most darling individuals and i had a regular blast. but as all good things come to an end, this too eventually saw its demise.
so there remains a week or so until my departure from the soil of this my country, and i am quite happily unemployed and unburdened by work or duty. it is interesting that free time can only be fully appreciated when it is buffered by some kind of work. while unemployed before for a good three months, i dreaded the limitless time that threatened my sanity and intimidated me to such an extent that even the prospect of working on creative enterprises seemed impossible. but this time is much appreciated, and it even feels like a reward. job well done!
and i shall keep up this journal in israel as i did in europe for all my fans. this i have decided.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
spilled yerba mate haiku trio
then she leapt blindly
and with her, the mate gourd
soggy brown madness.
my arm flecked and stained
i shot a glance at the floor
a swelling brown mass.
once she fled, silence
broken only by a song
two perched orioles.
and with her, the mate gourd
soggy brown madness.
my arm flecked and stained
i shot a glance at the floor
a swelling brown mass.
once she fled, silence
broken only by a song
two perched orioles.
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