THE BRAVE NEW LAND

We met many along our travels, but found it necessary to adjust our story out of concern for our safety, yet surprisingly the height of fear and discomfort we experienced occurred on the birthday of Man. Along the way we were often greeted with statements like, “Israel and Greece are good friends,” and, “Israel is strong; Greece shares, not only the same goals of peace and prosperity for the region, but a mutual distrust of the Turks ongoing aggression and expansionism.” On the birthday of Man, however, we attended New Year's services in a little town called… um, it was something like Chelm. The rabbi (I guess he was a rabbi), high upon an ancient pulpit, muttered his way through his sermon, speaking very loudly of inclusion, yet under his breath maligning observant Jews to the cronies at his feet. And, no prayer or even a community acknowledgment was given about the ongoing suffering of the remaining hostages, who had been taken over 700 days before by Hamas and Palestinians in Ga...

With the breath of life blown into dust-filled lungs, there was so much hope in the heavens above. On the day Man was formed, even the assembly of angels, a variety amongst ten, became confused as to which direction to turn. The glow of Man eclipsed the heavens around them all, and hope for a brand new day blossomed upon the event horizon of dawn’s awakening. A new being was born, a covenant had been made, and the world sung out in harmony with hope and joy spreading out before all that had come before; happy birthday, World, and have a shana tova, everyone! 

Standing on a tiny beach, situated on a tiny island off the coast of Oz, I saw a two meter shark suddenly appear in 30 centimeters of water only a meter away from me. A handful of children had been playing in the crystal blue water only moments before. Thankfully, the children had all departed just before the gaping jaws broke the surface and thrashed around, hunting for something unseen in the shallow waters. I jumped a little and hesitated before yelling “shark!” to the other bathers on the beach. The shark left as fast as it had appeared off around the edge of the little sandy cove we had chosen to spend our afternoon in. It was the first shark we had seen, and on our last day adventuring through the wilds of Queensland, Australia. While driving a campervan up the coast from Brisbane to Daintree, we wondered why nobody was ever in the water. We assumed it was because of sharks, right up until we saw signs warning of dangerous, life-threatening jelly fish . Then it made total sens...

Living on the edge between land and sea, in the State of California in the USA, was all I had ever known when I met my Basherit, the love of my life. We met for the first time in the doorway to our future home, the sun directly behind me as the portal opened to reveal the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. My head began to bobble, I noticed, unconsciously as if I were from far away, in the east, in India. The shadow I had cast allowed her to see me without squinting in the low-lying sun, as it made its way across our bright blue sky. She bobbled her head in return, saying later that the peculiar action was to maintain the effect of a halo around my head. But, we both understand only now that it was actually to preserve the vision of another world. Unknown to either of us at the time, we stood at the entrance to a portal, one which offered us a vision into the world to come. Living in the West, both of the continental United States and in the greater world, we had been raised stric...

The dirt at my feet swirled as I drove my favorite matchbox-car through it. My lap was open with my legs encompassing the hole I’d dug. I was living, and couldn’t stop. I had to do a number two, but shifted my heel to plug the eruption from ever occurring… ever. My lap and the hole I’d dug begged my attention with every moment occurring, and I drove and dug and drove again as my life unfolded. I was living, and the world around me sped forward, but never even registered into the realm I inhabited. I had stopped, and I was living. My friends went to accost pedophiles in the park, and I went along. We were in high school, young and tender beings. We wanted to live, we wanted something to happen. My Italian friend’s little brother did the deed, plunging into deep cover, sitting wantonly on a bench. We were all developed, being California surfers, so it was easy to see how perverts could bridge between ‘adult’ and a mere child. I watched as the mark put his arm around the kid, whispering s...

  Purim, Oct. 7, and Our Next Generation  -   I grew up in a world where I could be anything I wanted, back in Southern California, in the 70s and 80s. I had the freedom to explore what life might offer, and my parents encouraged me to play and to learn. I needed a foundation and chores, mind you, but a musical instrument was essential to grow up in the human world. I was encouraged to dress for success, too. My parents tried anything they could to give me the tools they thought I would need in life. I liked art, they noticed, so my parents introduced me to a commercial artist to learn the ropes. After a year of piano lessons with Mr. Stytska playing “On Top of Spaghetti,” I quit. From a lack of social graces, I was forced to dance with a broom at cotillion (etiquette classes for middle-school aged children), so I quit. I had my own plans, you see, which needed forming ASAP if I was to prove my worthiness to my own ego first, then others around me, and only then to...

  I fell for it again today, the inevitable trap set for unwary teachers at the high school where I’m ever so slowly becoming an educator, and along the way developing some great relationships with the next generation of young Israeli leaders. This year had been a tough one, having met with my students for only a short period of time before we left for the holidays, and subsequently unable to return. By the end of Sukkot, we had all wrapped up a wonderful holiday season with family and friends, eaten and drunken far too much, and were ready for one more day of rest before the start of the real teaching season began, Sunday morning, October 8. Then, school was cancelled. It was far too dangerous, you see, to send kids out into our world. It was far too horrible to even comprehend what had happened. Each of us went into reaction mode, protecting our families, our neighborhoods, ourselves and each other, listening for the latest news, preparing for the worst, both mentally and physica...

In every moment there is a question. Within every question there is a moment when each of us asks about the relevancy of each moment, and the awareness of existence. My computer screen is dirty because I haven’t learned how to clean it, and … likewise, my most current painting is bleeding beneath gesso from another artist’s work. It sits there on my easel now as I write about my birth parsha, Noakh. My school work sits lazily waiting for attention, and my drawing table languishes in mostly ill-attempt. The world around me is beautiful, but dormant, however wanting… And, all this is before the eruption about to occur. It’s an unknown, this eruption from the earth. We all know what follows: flamboyantly spouting doom and rebirth as we tremble and drown within the womb of our new lies, told and then reclaimed with the ignorance of stealth, revelry in the reality of rebirth… and into moments anew – ish. (image: The Last Column)

We don’t exist in one time, we exist in all the times. Branching occurs naturally and we ride them all, encompassing each moment. We must only become aware of the path to arrive at perfection.  

  My Dad - He was the tallest man I knew of, not only physically, but mentally and spiritually. It wasn’t always very easy to talk with him, but when we did, and when I needed him, he was there for me completely, without any hesitation. He loved the garden, loved his wife, loved his children, and he loved his work. He was an urban planner that conceptualized a perfect society and implemented his and other’s ideas to build environments to sustain a perfect population of residents. And it worked, right up until the time when his job ended, 10 years before his forced retirement … due to corporate takeover. The American dream, of building from scratch a perfect world, a society that worked together for the needs of all its members, became sullied. Fear of not having enough and greed began to shake my father’s foundation of hard work and faith. My father grew up in a working class family, his birth father having left him and his mother when my father was only five years old. His stepf...