Sunday, September 30, 2018

Desert


I want to write and write and write 
without feeling that time is running out 
and that I should be doing something else. 
It's one of the only things my bodymind can willingly DO;
Most other tasks in life are heavy. 

There is a problem, though:
When a story is in me I feel overwhelmed
But after I finish writing it,
I feel emptied of it,
So empty.



Photo from 2008


***

I am sometimes reminded of all the lives. You know that one over there in that caravan (trailer) in the desert?

Odelia sends me a message.

She tells me that she's been waking up late in the mornings but that she prefers to wake up early.

I tell her that I rarely wake up early, but that when I do and smell the fresh air outside, it always reminds me of the mechina.

I imagine having my (future) cafe in the Arava desert and taking a day off and tremping in the sun to go visit her in her caravan in the Judean desert.

She will pour tahini into a bowl and then wipe the edge of the container with her fingers and lick them, and then she will cut tomatoes and onions into a hand-pottered bowl, and place them on the little round table.

That's where she lives now. But I love her mother's home, too. I realize at once that Tal does not share this whole culture with me, and may not even be aware of its existence, let alone tasted its warmth: Crevices of dirt; a kitchen full of jars of grains; books on an old wooden bookshelf; a language as mystical and worn as the floor tiles; simple food filled with warmth and unmeasured spices; a stucco home with old trees and a fire pit and a burial spot of a family dog; old maps and children's books and photos and third-hand-fourth-hand clothes in overflowing closets; rich stories of heritage, mourning, life; coarse human flow, harmonious dwelling; laughter-filled Shabbat dinners with some or all seven children (and their children), and whatever neighbors happen to swing by. Rooted.

I feel a gaping mass. I squirm because I'm overwhelmed.

Nemo pants in her sleep in the background and I am enfolded in too much inspiration.

At night I dream that I have a joyous rendezvous with people from old times. 




Wednesday, September 26, 2018

Abstract / Home





The words I want to write seem much more sparkling and clear when ornamenting my mind than they do when they become written words on the screen. The abstract and aesthetic emotions are converted into linguistics, and that process is of downsizing. And this is a tough reality because I do want to write a book. A book that will be composed of linguistics - not of colors in my brain. And therefore I must exercise my ability to enrich my language and upgrade it to be more closely linked to the shapeless words my imagination conjures. Oh, the depths and beauty my brain creates! The liquidy connections between people, time and place - the morphing together it does of different things - these are so sensical and sensual and yet so hard to describe in the same romantic light in which they appear in the mind! I know I daydream of places and people that I seem to miss, and by seeing images of people, I want to be close to them; perhaps I want to be like them - for a moment - for a while - to restart my life and be a different me, with a different life. To be younger, that's for sure. To have another shot at my twenties. Watching other people's lives, in their own words or in the images that facebook brings me, cultivates in me jealousy and longing both at once. But what is the essence? The longing? I have always been a longing creature. Longing for things that only became things from afar, perhaps. Things that at the time were just lost and jagged moments like this one right now in front of my screen. But nonetheless I want them. I want to feel meaning, and I lean over the screen, looking for it, stacking sadness and jealousy and longing and lust for life, looking around me, and through these emotions seeing all that lies inside this home, inside this life...




It's not just that, though. It goes deeper. It's like waiting for your loving partner to come home, or like being in a warm snuggly gathering space with friends, while it's raining outside, for instance. So like that, just many times more. Because I've been so lucky as to have three loving partners in the past, whose warmth I still await in a sense, and I've had numerous occasions of gathering with friends, and whether it rained or not I don't even remember, but for the sake of aesthetics and imagery we can pretend it always rains out and that we are always snuggly warm inside, right? So that's it. It's a million hugs waiting outside the door. In fact, outside the door of time. Because in reality they are from a different time-frame. But in the mind, all times are one.

Isn't that so?



And still -- I am so grateful, to be here with Tal.



Sunday, September 16, 2018

loving our home / H O M E

I love our little home.
We're back in it after four weeks on the road, traveling around Washington, Oregon and California. When we're on the road we sleep in the minivan. We have it set up in such a way that our stuff is in milk-crates underneath plywood and a memory-foam mattress. It's very comfortable for us. Nemo has her bed in the space between our bed and the front two seats. All three of us love being on the road. And now I'm loving being here, in our cozy fresh-wood-smelling little studio home. It's rainy out, and that makes it even more cozy. It feels a little bit like a hotel. Wait till tomorrow, though... Tomorrow I start working. :)

Change of subject: Sometimes as I lie down to go to sleep at night, I fear that I will die at night. And one of the many concerns that rise is that I will not get a chance to open the Social Sustainable Cafe Bakery Art Gallery Nomad-and-Traveler Community Gathering Space. So I shall sketch it out and write about it in detail here on this blog, so that if I do die, someone else will create it, and so that if I don't die - people will know about it and will have the desire to help me realize it when I will be ready to do so. Which should, actually, be now. But I don't know how to get myself to start.

Well, let me tell you about it:

The inspiration comes from my love of Israeli and nomadic culture, from coastal galleries and cafes, from my passion for social gatherings and warm spaces in which to create and show art, and from my ideologies of sustainable living.

First of all, it's a place where people gather. A home of sorts. A friendly, welcoming home, where the owner is me and the guests (who are at home) are me and you and anyone who wants to feel the love of a loving space (including non-human animals).

The structure is environmentally-build, and the furnishings and decor are vintage and reused. The style is a combination of wood, flora and bohemia, with warm colors. It is a place for poets to write, for artists to create, for activists to discuss ideas, for regular folks to enjoy a nice cup of coffee, for people to meet friends, for travelers to relax and eat and share stories about their travels. It is a cafe/bakery. Vegan, with an emphasis on locally-grown and organic (as much as possible; I am aware that many things will not be able to be such, as this ideally is located in Israel's desert, along a common roadway/travel path).

We are a friendly business, a mindful-oriented place. On the walls are art. Art made by local artists. On the front wall is a large wall-length window, and on the window sill are plants. Out of the window the garden is in view, in which we will grow fruit trees and vegetables. The garden wraps around the side of the building too. The garden will be based on ideas of permaculture, we will obviously have a compost pile, and we will use the fruits and vegetables we grow in the food we cook and serve. There is also seating outdoors in the garden, for people who want to sit outdoors.

In the back of the building (out of sight from the sitting area) is a grassy area. On the wall against the building there is an awning, and under it mattresses stacked up. These are mattresses for travelers who want to sleep (for free) out back. (Remember, we are in the Israeli desert here: The nights throughout most of the year are pleasant.) There is also a compost toilet hut for their use, and possibly an outdoor shower.

Back to the interior: The entrance door is toward the left of the structure. As you walk in, in front of you is the main counter (in back of which is the kitchen). Right on your left, against the wall, are shelves with salvaged food - free for whoever wants. (Good food that supermarkets would have thrown out, that we collect once or twice a week.) On your right is the main sitting area - round wooden tables with two wooden chairs at each one. Toward the back, a larger table, for larger groups. And in back of it, a carpet, a couch, and a bookshelf with books (including books about veganism, permaculture, environment, spirituality, etc.).

To the right of the couch is an opening, through which we access two guest rooms - these are for rent. They include a bed and a dresser, and a large window (probably not a TV). Down the hall from these two is a joint bathroom for the two rooms - a pretty bathroom with a shower. The bathroom may also be for the restaurant during restaurant hours, or alternately we will have another bathroom for cafe guests. My vision is that guests from the guest rooms will eat breakfast/food at the cafe.

The menu will include things like coffee (which may be served like in the Food co-op, where you pay and then fill your own mug from a coffee canteen), baked-goods, soups, fresh salads and pasta (because I love pasta). I think of it as being a rather simple menu, with maybe an alternating dish on different days, but I am also open to the idea of more unusual dishes. I would love for the prices to be non-expensive, although I do wish to make a profit from this business, too. I see this as a single-income business, a full-time-and-mind career.

I will live right next door, in my Tiny House, and this will be my second home. I will come here in the morning (with my children?) and close it up and go to my Tiny House in the afternoon. After hours, this place can be used for workshops and gatherings, such as a yoga class or a meditation retreat, live music venues, or a community Jewish prayer gathering hub on Friday nights (these are just ideas that come to mind).

As for the name, I thought of things like Mayim Adamah (Water Earth), or Be'er Miriam (Miriam's Well), but I am not sure about it yet. It can change. As for the summary of the type of place it is in Hebrew, I might say: בית קפה-גלריה-חדרי אירוח ברוח קהילה וקיימות. Signs directing to our place from the highway would say something like Traveler Gathering Home And Warm Food, or אוכל חם לטיילים, or Stop By For Food, Rest, and Community. Our staff can include an owner (me), a co-owner, a baker, and three or four more staff members, and we will all be the cleaning staff.

I see myself as enjoying this life, of connecting with the community through food and art, and it is my earnest hope that I will fulfill this dream, and that it will in fact bring me joy.

This will essentially be a home of tolerance, peace, love, inspiration, and good heart-warming food.

**I made a sketch of this place, but cannot find it right now. When I find it I will upload it. Or if I don't find it I will sketch a new one.**



Here are some photos from our travels: