Friday, July 21, 2006

See, here she comes...

















She sneaks up on me, as she always does.
I look up and she is here, and I rush to greet her.
L'cha! Dodi! Lik'rat kalah!
In splendor, in glory, in humility, in humanity - she stands.
Her glow fills the very corners of my heart.
She gently kisses me on each cheek - shamor, v'zachor.

Come sweet messengers, come in with her too.
Bo'achem - l'shalom.
You are welcome, as always.
I fling the doors wide open, and bask in their presence.

Mi melech, malachei ham'la'chim, ha'Kadosh, baruch Hu.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

A completely frustrating time at work the past few days.
I've been in class, hoping to learn something new, and really only got the bullets points from the powerpoint presentation read to me. Not my idea of a worthy endeavor.
I was challenged about my Shabbat-friendly schedule by a co-worker. It's not the first time she has been forthcoming with her opinion about it, but it still pissed me off. The second day of Rosh Ha'Shana, Yom Kippur, and our first wedding anniversary fall on Sundays, and I am supposed to work 5 weekend-days (Sat or Sun) in a six-week schedule. It's normally all fine and dandy - I work my Sundays with the minimal of problems. But this time of year, it is all messed up by the hand of G-d.
I manage not to work Friday or Saturday on the floor. Friday is my Research gig, which I must say I enjoy, albeit a sad shadow of it's former self.
And Saturday is the Shabbat, which I am making more of an effort to cherish as the gift she is.
I realize I do - indeed - cherish her. She is a reviver of a soul that is so often bruised and sore. It is the sweet breath of the Universe, blowing back into us, after we have exhausted ourselves in the six days of labour. A chance to re-inflate our sails, and set course for the next week.
But she doesn't get that, and I am not sure if she is actually up to hear it without either feeling threatened, or set upon. When in reality, I could actually be quite up for a frank, open and soul-sharing conversation about the nature of my faith.
Nah - too scary for her...

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Oh what a difference a day makes

Feeling much less "whatever-the-hell-I-was-feeling" yesterday - thank G-d.

Saw "Pirates of The Caribbean" last night at Century City. A bit of harmless flick - nothing too taxing. Dinner first in the food court, which is always a lot of fun.
Hot and hard to sleep the last couple of days, which I think is a big contributor to the "blechs".
Now I am at work - it is quiet, but my back is just fine with that. Need to see the Chiropractor, soon. next week is packed, and short (so I'm not going to get a day off to go), so I'll see him the next week. Get it all sorted out before I head to WA/BC.
Went to shul yesterday morning, was needing to daven and maybe shed a tear or two. The rabbi is on maternity leave, but the sub was great. One of those intense guys who is able to talk off the cuff, and make perfect, coherent, sense.

Was able to wrap myself in my talit and "Let go, and Let G-d".

News is bad again to day - 8 dead in Haifa. It may be wrong of me, but i can't think about how many Lebanes or Palestinians have been killed in recent days. I guess there is only the ability to take in so much at a time.

Saturday, July 15, 2006

Oh the funk I am in...

Feeling like crap the last few days. There is so much stuff that is bothering me. Feeling very lonley.
Ugh - I need a break from it all.

Have a trip planned to the great northwest. Couple of days in Victoria, BC, and a weekend with Greg in Seattle. Should do me some good, I feel. It will be nice to be in Canada too, even if only for a day and a bit. See the sites, do a day sea kayak trip, then head back to WA.

Dust off the passport, polish up the greencard.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

An Israeli soldier jumps from a tank on the field in Kissufim area, Israeli-Gaza Strip border. (Reuters)

Israeli soldiers and armored vehicles are seen on standby at an army base outside Kibbutz Kerem Shalom, near the border with the southern Gaza Strip, late Tuesday. Early Wednesday, the Israeli military said tanks were on the move after a limited operation was approved. (Oded Balilty / AP)

Palestinians gather around the ruins of the PA's Foreign Ministry building damaged by an Israeli airstrike in Gaza City. (AP)


We got the beat!


http://www.bettzedek.org/
And what wonderful fun it was, I have to say! Such a blast to get to sing and dance to the Go-Go's.
I was taken back to the nurses hostel all those years ago being educated as to who was cool to listen to, and who was not by Sam Armfield. Thanks Sam - they were great!

Al ha't'vilah

The creek was an interesting place yesterday. I had it to myself for a number of hours, and so was able to splash around in what water is left, to my heart’s content. I erected some stone monoliths at a number of points in the water’s travail.

There is a glade of willows, which cling to a wide shingled square in the shade of the rock walls of the hills which border it. Someone had been there before, and done similar things. I added to a single Stonehenge-like doorway of square rocks barely six inches tall. There is a strange druid-evoking stillness under the trees. The water trickles from shallow pondlet to shallow pondlet. Winged creatures dance across the waters silent surface. The wind from their wings leaving delicate ripples which mirror their swiftly beaten advance.

The first pool deep enough to bathe in is just below the tree line. There are step-like stones which allow a considered descent into the velvet coolness of the water. Light is dappled through the willows odd – as if intoxicated, and seeing visions – sway, above. I start at the top step, and enjoy the sensation of coolness welcomed into the deepest tissues of my feet. After the hike down to the junction with Alder Creek, they were joyous to be released from the confines of sock and boot.

The next step finds me submerged to my mid-calf, as I sweep the silt that has accumulated on the ridged surface of the granite with gentle under water swats of the stone. The wave I dispel wafts the silts silk away, and I feel the ridges true and strong on the sole of my feet. My breathing is deep, and I am conscious more and more of the water, and less and less of the rattle in my mind of the week, and all it’s works.

Finally my feet are firmly imbedded in the rounded gravel of the floor of the pool. I wriggle and massage my feet into the stones. Their gentle rotations scraping away the rough skin of a week spent heavily on my feet. The water now reaches to just below my navel. I stand in silence as the water gently caresses my legs and sacrum. My genitals float in the water – free of the confinement that is forced upon us by clothing.

I feel the relaxation flow up my spine and then as it sweeps its way across my shoulders to my arms where it sends a tingle of pleasure to my fingertips as they gently cast circles of movement in the current, as if playing a piano: gently tapping out adagios under the shimmering surface of the water. The symphony of birdsong, trickle of water, and of wind in leaves rising and falling in tempo. As above us, the willow conducts all.

This pool I chose to bathe in, vs. immersing myself. I splashed the water on my body, imagining the sadness I witnessed, and felt this week purge from the muscles. Face and neck, arms and chest. Face and nose, arms and thighs.

As I stood beside the pool, shaking the water from my spiked hair, and rubbing it out of my beard – then stroking the newly moist in shape.

At the shallow end of the pool is a low “v” of rock, the portal to the next descent and pool. Someone had previously attempted to slow the escape of the water to the lower pools, and so I added to the attempt. As I turned and assessed the individual stones, finding them snug places to nest together. I have often wanted to learn more about how to be a stone mason, particularly when it comes to building walls and fences. I once saw a program on building stone walls in England on Blue Peter, I think. I still have real snaps of the show in my head, and the precision that goes into building a stone wall. The evaluation of each stone and the finding of the perfect fit.

My efforts will hardly hold much flow behind it, but it looked quite impressive, to my eyes at least.

There is, however, the perfect Bor Mik’vah. The grey granite has been sculpted by the ravages of time and water, there is a sweeping descent from one pool to the next that for some reason has ground out a pool that is almost perfectly cylindrical, and perfectly carved with the ultimate goal being the core of the planet. The water enters from one narrow erosion-carved channel, and spills over the lip of the pool from the opposite side. It is approximately an arm-span around, and 7 feet deep. When entering it is necessary to sit on the moss lined stone lip at the edge of the pool, slip feet first into the water, and find the rock which sits in the middle of the floor of the pool.

I have taken to immersing myself ritually at this location. I can really only do this when alone, for the distraction of spectators is unwelcome.

I stood in the water for some time, allowing myself to just relax, and to allow myself to be completely focused on the act of mikvah. Once I feel my breath fill and exhale with the minimal of awareness and that I have now acclimatized to the water temperature (which is always much cooler than the upper pools), I can then go about the immersion process.

Three deep and full inhalations, three deep and full submersions. Three times allowing myself to loose physical contact with all but the water. Three meditations for renewal and healing. Three gasping and urgent breaths taken once I have placed my feet back on the gravel paved bottom of the pool, and raised myself out of the water, again to breathe.

The words of the blessing spoken aloud, the trees waving their witness that there was none of my body that did not undertake the immersion.

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

I went on a bit of an adventure yesterday. Being the nature-boy that I am, I ventured off to find a new watering hole in the desert.

Deep Creek is outside of Victorville, of all places. It was about an hour and a half drive to the turn off, and then a further 45 minutes on unpaved dirt road through a rather unforgiving landscape.

After being quite sure that I was completely lost a number of times, I came upon a shabby rustic cottage where I paid my parking fee and had a chat about New Zealand, Hollywood movies, and “The World’s Fastest Indian” – which the bare-chested, long-haired host and his blonde female companion had just seen, and very much enjoyed.

I parked beside the campsites, and then strapped on my sneakers (note to self – next time wear boots), and headed off down the narrow dirt track to the river. The trail hugs the side of a reasonably sheer cliff, which cuts away to the river below. There are numerous trees and grasses growing beside the river, making it quite an idyllic scene.

Once I made the descent I found myself beside the river at the portion nearest the hot springs. Three or four pools spill into each other from a rocky outcrop. The water was just a tad too warm for me after the hike down, so I made my way upstream to find a secluded spot to stretch out in.

The water is quite deep, and the river is a great temperature. Small fish (trout?) teem in the waters, and were very intent to nibble on me in great numbers. Initially I found it a tad disconcerting, but it soon became quite a pleasant sensation.

So I soaked in the river while the small fish nibbled all the loose skin/hair from my body they could. I felt a little like some kind of aquatic buffet.

A few other people meandered by – to splash around, soak in some rays, make small talk under the beating desert sun.

At 15:00 the alarm on my cell phone reminded me that it would be a much more strenuous trip back to the car than it had been on the way down, so I packed up, and after a dip in the big pool, I climbed out of the canyon and made my way back along the dusty trail to the car. From there the return along the dirt road. The dirt gives way to paving, and beyond to the freeway and home.

I returned home at about 19:00, tired, relaxed, and looking forward to a quiet night in front of some movie, or another.

“Moonstruck” was the choice of the evening, and a mightily enjoyed one too. Bliss.