As I mentioned in previous posts, I have been sick for over a month. Because of this, I have had numerous doctors appointments, blood tests and uncomfortable procedures. They've provided no answers and the result has been, both physically and mentally, draining. I haven't spoken in much detail about what has been going on (due to the gross nature of my symptoms), though I'd be happy to do so on an individual basis. I have spent the past month feeling acutely ill, isolated and afraid. I have been unable to attend study days, group trips or volunteering placements. Sick in bed is not how I imagined I would spend my time in Israel.
I have made the very difficult decision to leave Israel early and return home to Colorado on Sunday. I'm not happy to leave, but cliche as it sounds, my health comes first. I think returning to my home, surrounded by my support system and navigating a familiar health care system will help my mind and body heal. I will be very sad to leave Israel, but I know that this will not be my last time here. I'm not really in a place where I can offer an articulate and well written synthesis about my time here. I don't know that I'll ever be able to put my experiences into words. Nor do I think I will ever be able to definitively say that Israel has impacted me in "this, this and this" way because I think it will continue to do so for the rest of my life. I plan to keep this blog going- Perhaps "Holy land to Home land"?
I appreciate all of the support I've received and I'm very sad to leave the incredible places and people that have been a part of my life for such a short time. I'm trying to remind myself of the valuable lesson I wrote about in my last post- I have control over how I react to this situation. So with that in mind- My heart is filled with so much gratitude and love for the experiences I have been given and I am so excited to move forward with new knowledge and a positive outlook, ready to face the next adventure.
November 16, 2011
November 14, 2011
Peace shall be his legacy
I was fortunate enough to be able to attend the memorial service for the 16th anniversary of Yitzhak Rabin's assassination this past weekend. It was a very beautiful ceremony in Rabin Square with over 10,000 people in attendance. The weather was perfect, milder than it has been the past week and the crowd was a fascinating representation of the Israeli population. In the past, the memorial service has brought close to 20,000 people into Rabin Square, an impressive place, and even more so when it is filled with politically charged Israelis. There were only several thousand people there when we arrived and Elin, my madrichah, expressed her disappointment in the turnout and told me that she didn't want my thoughts towards Israel to be negatively impacted. The furthest thing from my mind was the "poor" turnout. In fact, the Americans in our group had just been discussing how we had never really been at an event like Rabin's memorial. Israel is so small that people from all over the country can gather and experience significant events all together.
Part of the Tikkun Olam program involves taking classes about different Israeli issues. An ongoing theme through several of our classes is the concept of "the anachnu" or "the we". Simply put, it's the sense of community and togetherness that connect the people of Israel. It is a concept I am struggling to understand. I was raised in a culture that encourages fierce competition and independence (although without deviating from the socially acceptable path). I love the idea of the anachnu. It sort of reminds me of summer camp. I like that everyone is connected, invested in and committed to working towards creating the best Israel, the strongest future they can collectively build. It seems beautifully simplistic and optimistic. Unfortunately, summer camp comes to an end, fall sports season begins and those best friends forever (and ever and ever) now face each other on the lacrosse field and human nature seems to trump the sanctity of BFF bracelets.
How American of me. But Israel seems to make it work. I just don't get it! I see it daily in small ways and analyze it in my various classes, but nothing makes it more apparent than when I'm standing with 10,000 Israelis, peacefully celebrating the incredible life of a fellow Israeli. There were thousands of high school scouts, many of whom were probably in preschool when Rabin was shot, old hippies, families sitting close together, young activists, soldiers in uniform. People from all over the country came together, put aside politics (for the most part) for one evening and chose to celebrate the things they share, including, above all others, a love for their country. It's a different kind of patriotism from the "cheer obnoxiously during the National Anthem, slap a THESE COLORS DON'T RUN bumper sticker on our pickup trucks and start a movement where we want to stop paying taxes" patriotism in America. Israel has it's own set of problems, but the country must be doing something right...
Now time for my favorite part of my blog- Reasons why I love the ARDC! I've started teaching the Advanced English class there once a week. My students are 5 middle aged men from Sudan. They are some of the kindest, most polite, well meaning and appreciative people I've met- and that's saying something because I find almost everyone who comes in to the ARDC to be absolutely wonderful. They are very sweet to me, but take their learning seriously and have no problem telling me when they don't like my activites. I think I've finally gotten an idea of what they want, so we usually sit together and read a news article, define new vocabulary, and then discuss what we read. They are thoughtful and provide an insight unique to any I've been exposed to before. It's very comfortable to sit in a college lecture, surrounded by your peers and discuss what people in Africa need to do differently to control the population growth. It's much more challenging to speak to individuals who are from that culture, listen to them share their stories as both parties tiptoe carefully in an attempt to address the issues without insulting or placing a value judgement on the others lifestyle. I'm not working with children anymore, either. It's harder, not to mention uncomfortable, to offer shallow and diplomatic answers in an attempt to ease tension without offering real solutions. Thankfully, these men handled our discussion very well and I was excited to being searching for next weeks news article.
This part is going to sound silly.... I know that a lot, if not most, of the news we read is bad, sad, depressing, makes you question your faith in humanity, ect. We sort of know what to expect when we log on to our news site. Something about these men makes me want to shield them from the bad news. I don't want my class to be 2 hours of despair. Many of the news articles I read involved countries in NE Africa or the struggles individuals face as they seek refuge in other countries. It seems terribly insensitive of me to bring these kind of articles in. After searching for an hour this week, I settled on an article about extinct rhinos- mostly just bad news for those rhinos.
Meeting with these men really puts things in perspective for me. They have faced unknown hardships beyond what I could ever imagine. Their lives are so much more difficult than my own. We sit together for several hours a week, all in Israel, but myself by choice, because I could afford the luxury of taking time off work to volunteer and live in a place that I chose, and them, refugees who fled their war torn home, left their families and friends, in search of security and prosperity. We sit together, sharing our lives for a brief moment in time, and despite the fact that our lives couldn't be more different, it feels very normal. Their kindness, good humor and optimism remind me that how we view our situation, how we react to circumstances, is completely within our control. Life is as good or as bad as we decide it is, and if these men can decide that life is pretty good, I can do that too. I always find myself walking home from the ARDC smiling, buzzing with a sense of purpose and contentment and admiring the beauty that surrounds me.
Part of the Tikkun Olam program involves taking classes about different Israeli issues. An ongoing theme through several of our classes is the concept of "the anachnu" or "the we". Simply put, it's the sense of community and togetherness that connect the people of Israel. It is a concept I am struggling to understand. I was raised in a culture that encourages fierce competition and independence (although without deviating from the socially acceptable path). I love the idea of the anachnu. It sort of reminds me of summer camp. I like that everyone is connected, invested in and committed to working towards creating the best Israel, the strongest future they can collectively build. It seems beautifully simplistic and optimistic. Unfortunately, summer camp comes to an end, fall sports season begins and those best friends forever (and ever and ever) now face each other on the lacrosse field and human nature seems to trump the sanctity of BFF bracelets.
How American of me. But Israel seems to make it work. I just don't get it! I see it daily in small ways and analyze it in my various classes, but nothing makes it more apparent than when I'm standing with 10,000 Israelis, peacefully celebrating the incredible life of a fellow Israeli. There were thousands of high school scouts, many of whom were probably in preschool when Rabin was shot, old hippies, families sitting close together, young activists, soldiers in uniform. People from all over the country came together, put aside politics (for the most part) for one evening and chose to celebrate the things they share, including, above all others, a love for their country. It's a different kind of patriotism from the "cheer obnoxiously during the National Anthem, slap a THESE COLORS DON'T RUN bumper sticker on our pickup trucks and start a movement where we want to stop paying taxes" patriotism in America. Israel has it's own set of problems, but the country must be doing something right...
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| Fountain in Rabin Square |
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| Graffiti tribute |
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| Memorial on the site of Rabin's assassination |
Now time for my favorite part of my blog- Reasons why I love the ARDC! I've started teaching the Advanced English class there once a week. My students are 5 middle aged men from Sudan. They are some of the kindest, most polite, well meaning and appreciative people I've met- and that's saying something because I find almost everyone who comes in to the ARDC to be absolutely wonderful. They are very sweet to me, but take their learning seriously and have no problem telling me when they don't like my activites. I think I've finally gotten an idea of what they want, so we usually sit together and read a news article, define new vocabulary, and then discuss what we read. They are thoughtful and provide an insight unique to any I've been exposed to before. It's very comfortable to sit in a college lecture, surrounded by your peers and discuss what people in Africa need to do differently to control the population growth. It's much more challenging to speak to individuals who are from that culture, listen to them share their stories as both parties tiptoe carefully in an attempt to address the issues without insulting or placing a value judgement on the others lifestyle. I'm not working with children anymore, either. It's harder, not to mention uncomfortable, to offer shallow and diplomatic answers in an attempt to ease tension without offering real solutions. Thankfully, these men handled our discussion very well and I was excited to being searching for next weeks news article.
This part is going to sound silly.... I know that a lot, if not most, of the news we read is bad, sad, depressing, makes you question your faith in humanity, ect. We sort of know what to expect when we log on to our news site. Something about these men makes me want to shield them from the bad news. I don't want my class to be 2 hours of despair. Many of the news articles I read involved countries in NE Africa or the struggles individuals face as they seek refuge in other countries. It seems terribly insensitive of me to bring these kind of articles in. After searching for an hour this week, I settled on an article about extinct rhinos- mostly just bad news for those rhinos.
Meeting with these men really puts things in perspective for me. They have faced unknown hardships beyond what I could ever imagine. Their lives are so much more difficult than my own. We sit together for several hours a week, all in Israel, but myself by choice, because I could afford the luxury of taking time off work to volunteer and live in a place that I chose, and them, refugees who fled their war torn home, left their families and friends, in search of security and prosperity. We sit together, sharing our lives for a brief moment in time, and despite the fact that our lives couldn't be more different, it feels very normal. Their kindness, good humor and optimism remind me that how we view our situation, how we react to circumstances, is completely within our control. Life is as good or as bad as we decide it is, and if these men can decide that life is pretty good, I can do that too. I always find myself walking home from the ARDC smiling, buzzing with a sense of purpose and contentment and admiring the beauty that surrounds me.
November 5, 2011
Attitude Adjustment
For those of you who know me (and more specifically- my immune system), it will come as no surprise to you that I've been sick for the better part of the past three weeks. During this time I've spent countless hours in bed, alone with my thoughts. I've analyzed every thought, action, reaction, expectation and emotion I've experienced over the past two months. I've become so good at (over)analyzing that I can often remove myself from the process and observe myself doing it, resulting in an interesting perspective and the ability to analyze my analysis. This hyper awareness is so much a part of who I am that I struggle to stop and actively experience and appreciate my surroundings. I've had a hard time feeling happy since I've gotten to Israel and so much of that has to do with the fact that I've been so deep in my thoughts that I haven't allowed myself to enjoy the reality of my life right now.
I've never lived abroad, or even traveled abroad, so even though I "knew" things would be different here, I never could have prepared myself for just how different everything is. As a person with high expectations and a constant pursuit for perfection, facing a situation so unlike the one I created in my mind is terrifying. Acknowledging the reality, failed expectations and all, can be devastating. It results in the obsessive introspection mentioned above. I could have allowed my experience here to be defined by the first two months of maladjustment and next three months of analyzing my initial reactions. Thankfully, the Tikkun Olam staff is so incredible, my volunteer coordinator in particular, who encouraged me to take advantage of the times I was feeling healthy and go explore and do things that make me feel good.
I finally got a break from feeling poorly (although not before I had my first experience with the Israeli health care system and their "english speaking" doctors) and decided to venture north to the nicer part of Tel Aviv. I met with a Tikkun Olam alumni I had been emailing with (thanks to our program director, Moshe) who had experienced many of the same difficulties I have been expressing during her time in the program. Despite feeling miserable, confused, lost, isolated, ect her first few months in Israel, she actively chose to make her experience better and it was such a positive change that she made Aliyah after she finished the program. It was overwhelming to feel so validated and something about discussing our shared experiences allowed me to let go of some of the disappointment I've been feeling. We also had a similar emotional timeline, with her making big changes at the beginning of the third month and it was just the push I needed to make those changes myself.
Over the past several days I've gone out of my way to spend time with people I enjoy being around. I'm engaging in thoughtful conversation, going on bike rides, exploring the streets of Tel Aviv, and baking, a lot of baking. I believe that people are capable of change. I'm not sure that I believe I am. I think I will always be analytical, obsessive, have high expectations and be prone to disappointment. I don't adjust well to change or allow it without significant resistance. I'm terribly emotional and particular and will often allow my moods to overcome me. These are things I know about myself, things that I've stopped trying to assign a value to, but have simply learned to be conscious of while going through my life. But I'm seeing a new side of myself. I know it's only been a few days, but my willingness to take ownership of my experience, to acknowledge my unreasonable expectations and move forward, my eagerness to engage in this reality and shape it into something distinctly positive, and my ability to remove myself from my inner monologue and be present for all of these things, allows me to smile and take pride in my personal growth.
I know this is a lesson I will have to learn many times over. I can't imagine that I'll always be brave enough to place myself in new situations, adventurous enough to explore the chaos, humble enough to be aware of my own shortcomings, or resilient enough to work through them. I don't know that I'm any of those things now. I don't know what I am. But I know what I want to be, so I'm doing my best to just be.
I've never lived abroad, or even traveled abroad, so even though I "knew" things would be different here, I never could have prepared myself for just how different everything is. As a person with high expectations and a constant pursuit for perfection, facing a situation so unlike the one I created in my mind is terrifying. Acknowledging the reality, failed expectations and all, can be devastating. It results in the obsessive introspection mentioned above. I could have allowed my experience here to be defined by the first two months of maladjustment and next three months of analyzing my initial reactions. Thankfully, the Tikkun Olam staff is so incredible, my volunteer coordinator in particular, who encouraged me to take advantage of the times I was feeling healthy and go explore and do things that make me feel good.
I finally got a break from feeling poorly (although not before I had my first experience with the Israeli health care system and their "english speaking" doctors) and decided to venture north to the nicer part of Tel Aviv. I met with a Tikkun Olam alumni I had been emailing with (thanks to our program director, Moshe) who had experienced many of the same difficulties I have been expressing during her time in the program. Despite feeling miserable, confused, lost, isolated, ect her first few months in Israel, she actively chose to make her experience better and it was such a positive change that she made Aliyah after she finished the program. It was overwhelming to feel so validated and something about discussing our shared experiences allowed me to let go of some of the disappointment I've been feeling. We also had a similar emotional timeline, with her making big changes at the beginning of the third month and it was just the push I needed to make those changes myself.
Over the past several days I've gone out of my way to spend time with people I enjoy being around. I'm engaging in thoughtful conversation, going on bike rides, exploring the streets of Tel Aviv, and baking, a lot of baking. I believe that people are capable of change. I'm not sure that I believe I am. I think I will always be analytical, obsessive, have high expectations and be prone to disappointment. I don't adjust well to change or allow it without significant resistance. I'm terribly emotional and particular and will often allow my moods to overcome me. These are things I know about myself, things that I've stopped trying to assign a value to, but have simply learned to be conscious of while going through my life. But I'm seeing a new side of myself. I know it's only been a few days, but my willingness to take ownership of my experience, to acknowledge my unreasonable expectations and move forward, my eagerness to engage in this reality and shape it into something distinctly positive, and my ability to remove myself from my inner monologue and be present for all of these things, allows me to smile and take pride in my personal growth.
I know this is a lesson I will have to learn many times over. I can't imagine that I'll always be brave enough to place myself in new situations, adventurous enough to explore the chaos, humble enough to be aware of my own shortcomings, or resilient enough to work through them. I don't know that I'm any of those things now. I don't know what I am. But I know what I want to be, so I'm doing my best to just be.
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