We hiked for eight hours up, down and through mountains in the arid Middle Eastern sand. In the first part of the day, I saw the sky enlivened by stars. This was around 3 o'clock in the morning. It was very cold; the merciless desert unleashed low penetrating temperatures.
After it all, we reached the Israeli-Egyptian border. I saw a lonely watchtower occupied by a lonely border guard whose obligation was to shoot any person ambitious enough or crazy enough to jump over the dusty barbed wire. The security guards on our little trip are Druze so they speak Arabic. They went down and shook hands with the Egyptian over barbed wire.
They were linked by language: politics didn't matter.
Friday, March 18, 2011
March 11th: Somewhere in the Hilly Negev Desert around Eilat.
We hiked for 6 kilometers to this campsite where everyone's working to prepare dinner. These are the pure, nearly untouched hills of the Old. There's nothing here. This site is in the embrace of jagged mountains. Light pollution has yet to taint these skies. From the finest grain of sand to the gargantuan bolder, nature lives in harmony.
Streaks on the sides of mountains from previous engagement with other rocks suggests organization, order in a seemingly random world.
Streaks on the sides of mountains from previous engagement with other rocks suggests organization, order in a seemingly random world.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
It Was Written (on february 27th on the way to Jerusalem and afterwards.)
In the advent of getting my camera stolen, I've temporarily lost the ability to document properly this new, extraordinary experience. I'll have to draw pictures with words. I'll have to paint the old walls and streets of the Holy City through prose.
Right now we're passing through the hills heading east towards Jerusalem. These hills are dotted with clumps of white, like life size pieces of feta cheese. (I think our tour guide said that it was limestone). We're passing some hill where Elijah the Prophet did something that upheld his status as a prophet.
(Her voice has too much treble. It needs a little bass.)
Anyways, these hills hug a valley adorn with a diverse population of trees. Some tall and skinny, some short and fat, and some in between.
This field here to the right looks like it should be in the Bible. The writers of this historical phenomenon probably wandered these lands aimed east somewhere over the next hill.
The only thing that's different are these strips of pavement, hardened trails of once steaming tar. The only thing that's different are the signs in Hebrew, Arabic and English. The only thing that's different are these white smoke stacks and the fenced property below.
after Jerusalem:
Jerusalem was surreal. The dense history of this place was difficult to grasp in twelve hours. Seeing the Dome of the Rock glisten in golden brilliance, seeing the Western Wall where people prayed with tears in their eyes, seeing young orthodox Jewish school boys sing in pure jubilance in near vertigo with hands joined, seeing over five shades of skin colored people come together to rejoice in celebration of the Supernatural, seeing Muslims, Jews and Christians bump shoulders - seeing all this rendered me a little numb. With so much there that could potentially move me religiously depending on my faith, I couldn't feel the same as those on their knees kissing the Tomb of Jesus Christ with intense, wild zeal or with listless, modest docility. The religious energy of the Old City, at times, blurred my focus on the historical aspects. Religion is ever present in the Culture from which I've risen into the World. But perhaps, through me, my culture is undergoing evolution.
Right now we're passing through the hills heading east towards Jerusalem. These hills are dotted with clumps of white, like life size pieces of feta cheese. (I think our tour guide said that it was limestone). We're passing some hill where Elijah the Prophet did something that upheld his status as a prophet.
(Her voice has too much treble. It needs a little bass.)
Anyways, these hills hug a valley adorn with a diverse population of trees. Some tall and skinny, some short and fat, and some in between.
This field here to the right looks like it should be in the Bible. The writers of this historical phenomenon probably wandered these lands aimed east somewhere over the next hill.
The only thing that's different are these strips of pavement, hardened trails of once steaming tar. The only thing that's different are the signs in Hebrew, Arabic and English. The only thing that's different are these white smoke stacks and the fenced property below.
after Jerusalem:
Jerusalem was surreal. The dense history of this place was difficult to grasp in twelve hours. Seeing the Dome of the Rock glisten in golden brilliance, seeing the Western Wall where people prayed with tears in their eyes, seeing young orthodox Jewish school boys sing in pure jubilance in near vertigo with hands joined, seeing over five shades of skin colored people come together to rejoice in celebration of the Supernatural, seeing Muslims, Jews and Christians bump shoulders - seeing all this rendered me a little numb. With so much there that could potentially move me religiously depending on my faith, I couldn't feel the same as those on their knees kissing the Tomb of Jesus Christ with intense, wild zeal or with listless, modest docility. The religious energy of the Old City, at times, blurred my focus on the historical aspects. Religion is ever present in the Culture from which I've risen into the World. But perhaps, through me, my culture is undergoing evolution.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Eilat: The Wedge between Egypt and Jordan. (Feb. 18)
I was floating in the Red Sea, the one that Moses split open.
Straight ahead is south. Ethiopia is somewhere over there. To my left is Jordan - sharp surreal mountains lie to the left. I think that's Jordan. The Eastern Gateway to the Arab world.
This place is blue~brown. The glow from the formidable, penetrating sunlight sits peacefully above the jagged mountains marking the Jordanian Border. The sun's rays produces a myriad of ultra white lustrous specks of light adorning the sea with an impeccable beauty that spans all the way to the horizon: the off yellow horizon that fills my head with so much wonder, so much suspense.
This beach has no shells, only rocks, jagged rocks that decorate the sandy beaches and smooth rocks that bring to the sea mystery as to what other attributes exist the further one goes out towards the horizon.
After an eight hour bus ride, I still can't sleep. My eye lids are heavy from the day before, but my eyes move about in excitement to grasp all of this experience, to absorb it all through their small, black pupils. Right now, I'm neither nocturnal nor "dayturnal". Neither tired nor awake. In my marveling at the golden brown horizon, I have no reason to pass the time in clueless darkness. No reason to escape what lies before me. This is a dream I dread waking from.
Straight ahead is south. Ethiopia is somewhere over there. To my left is Jordan - sharp surreal mountains lie to the left. I think that's Jordan. The Eastern Gateway to the Arab world.
This place is blue~brown. The glow from the formidable, penetrating sunlight sits peacefully above the jagged mountains marking the Jordanian Border. The sun's rays produces a myriad of ultra white lustrous specks of light adorning the sea with an impeccable beauty that spans all the way to the horizon: the off yellow horizon that fills my head with so much wonder, so much suspense.
This beach has no shells, only rocks, jagged rocks that decorate the sandy beaches and smooth rocks that bring to the sea mystery as to what other attributes exist the further one goes out towards the horizon.
After an eight hour bus ride, I still can't sleep. My eye lids are heavy from the day before, but my eyes move about in excitement to grasp all of this experience, to absorb it all through their small, black pupils. Right now, I'm neither nocturnal nor "dayturnal". Neither tired nor awake. In my marveling at the golden brown horizon, I have no reason to pass the time in clueless darkness. No reason to escape what lies before me. This is a dream I dread waking from.
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