December 22, 2014
The first three days in Israel have been absorbing, encompassing, vibrant, and surreal—all at once. Each day is so packed with experiences to feel, images to take in, thoughts to process, and of course, flavors to taste. (It is Israel, after all.)
Today was a day chocked full of Cs, no matter how one spells it. There was, of course, so much to see, from the desert vistas, captivating gazelles, and today’s culmination at the Dead Sea.
Today began early with first Cs of the day: a CAMEL ride. (Yes, Randi rode a camel.) It was a short loop, yet long enough to confirm camels are disconcerting, extremely tall, clumsy, and opinionated with a total lack of dental hygiene. (Seven camels and not a Tic-Tac among them.) Up (and down) on that camel I went, safely tethered, yet far out of my COMFORT zone, for my heavily documented five-minute ride.
We bid the hump-clump farewell to drive to Masada. Masada is incredible, for what it was then and still is today—for its enormity, endurance, and expanse. My second major Cs were more ups and downs. First, I had to get up to the top of Masada in a CABLE CAR, a mode of transportation I’ve never deeply embraced. (Cable cars should be vehicles that get incredible HD reception, not boxy glass “cars” with no wheels, engine, or steering mechanisms, suspended from wires up the side of a mountain.) The brevity of the three-minute ride and the congestion of people crammed into that car helped. Even if I’d wanted to see more than the stitching on the blouse of the woman up against me, I couldn’t turn my head.
The angst of the climb faded the moment I saw Masada. As I took in the history, the risk, and the accomplishments of and at Masada, the legacy of this place overwhelmed me. That it has survived, endured, and was so much more than any movie could depict should not have surprised me, but it did.
It was too quickly time to leave; she who climbs up must climb down, including me. As a walker able to do many miles a day, a 2.5-mile descent should’ve been an easy sprint. Except that it wasn’t. There was the lack-of-railing-thing, the height thing, the other people thing, the vertical thing, and the infected foot thing; one or another kept knocking me off my CENTER.
While I could’ve taken the cable car down, which I admit was looking pretty attractive by this point, I knew I would walk down if for no other reason than to prove to myself that I could walk down. And I did—carefully and calmly. I was determined to accomplish this CHALLENGE. Other folks might opt to leap a tall building or two before tackling Masada, but it was there. So was I, at the top, with a need to get down. One awkward step at a time, I did.
As I did, I saw more Cs. I was walking down this mountain by CHOICE, with the complete freedom to do so. If other people could build this incredible place and chose to die here, the least I could do was walk down from it with my own two feet. This C was CONTRAST.
I moved from contrast to CONNECTION. My recent losses and my risks at my work are so geographically far away, and also right here with me. As I took one step at a time, literally, on this mountain, I realized I am doing the same deep in my heart and bravely in my work. Left, right, left.
I made my way, complete with uneven steps and moments where I lost my footing and felt completely off balance. Yet, I kept walking. That’s when I saw it: this winding, irregular Masada snake path was the ultimate metaphor for the other incredibly difficult path I’ve been trying to walk since April: the mourner’s path. What better metaphor for the mourner’s path? I was CONFIDENT I’d get safely to the bottom and wouldn’t go flying off the edge of this mountain. As quickly, I realized I will also keep going, safely, even if lost much of the time, on my mourner’s path. This COMFORTED me.
Our last stop on this amazing day was the Dead Sea. (OK, so if I hadn’t made the mourner’s connection at Masada, how could I miss it here?) This sea is dead, free of all life, yet it is still very much here, allowing us to feel a buoyancy we cannot otherwise feel—just as those we lose physically will stay with us, help us to feel a lightness, and help to CARRY us—when we remember.
And so my last C of the day was CLARITY. Until this day, I did not understand what people meant when they would say Israel would CHANGE me. Now, I’m just beginning to get it. Good thing it is only day 3.
No comments:
Post a Comment