Galapagos Landscape, originally uploaded by Shai G.

Of all the pics I took in the Galapagos when I was there in late June, early July, this might seem an odd choice for the first to post to my blog. Amid the close-ups of marine and land iguanas, turtles, blue-footed boobies, albatross and more, here is a pic with no wildlife present. Nor are there seemingly just-stopped lava flows or water-filled craters or cactus blooming out of a pavement of lava.

What grabbed my attention in this pic is the background where the leafless palo-santo trees co-mingle with actual greenery: plants that have the chutzpah to show green leaves in the midst of the dry season.

I also like how the telephoto setting on the lens brings all the elements closer together. The foreground where I'm standing, the water, the cliffs and the trees in the back all feel intimate, emphasizing the truth of the interconnectedness of things.

I think I might be trying to protect the wildlife by not exposing it, at least for the moment. For me to look at this dry landscape and know that the water and its edges support such a diverse and rich wildlife population is more evocative than "catching" a bird in my lens, who posed as if she were sitting at Sears.

There's a more extensive selection of pics by myself and other family members including lots of wildlife and videos at: galapagos.braunfam.com

Soccer Balls on Ice, originally uploaded by EveryLittleThing.

These balls are just waiting to be liberated. With 50 degree (F) weather on the way, their moment will come soon!

 

It certainly wasn't staged. Read the post to find out.

 

This is the view from the "snake" trail up to Masada. You can see the main road north/south road that traverses the Jordan valley on the Israeli side all the way from Eilat to Beit Shan. The photo was taken on my recent trip to Israel on 12/25/06.

Our kids had no trouble with the steep hike. What a pleasure to do it in Winter. The photo was taken at about 2:45 P.M.

What is the meaning of Masada?

For some reason as a teenager, I had taken away from my Masada visit the idea that the cisterns/architecture and general ingenuity were of Jewish origin. But no, that was all of Roman origin. The Jewish inhabitants were just looking for a good place to hide and defend themselves.

The Jewsh story of Masada is about a certain kind of bravery, tenacity, and the kind of courage it takes to commit suicide in advance of your enemy to prevent enslavement/humiliation and/or death at the hand of your enemy.

When we were on top we heard some American kids asking their parents, "So why did they want to die?" Answer from parents: "They didn't want to die. They just wanted to be left alone to live a Jewish life in freedom." I can't re-tell this same version to my own kids. I can't ignore the fact that the Zealots were embattled with the Jewish community as well and were reported to have killed other Jews. I can't jump on board convenient interpretations of history.

Masada is in an amazing setting. It's amazing that they were able to support 1000 souls there and provide for people's food and water. But I also can't help but wonder whether there were not more people than the two woman and five children who hid in the cistern who also didn't want to commit suicide.

Looking out into the desert, seeing the complex patterns cut into the desert landscapes -- wondering about the forces (likely water?) which carved out those patterns -- being with my family, hiking, imagining -- these are the parts of our Masada trip that nourished me.

Once I felt compelled to try to learn a story from Masada that was inspiring. Now I don't feel so compelled. It is another archaeological excavation -- in an amazing location, with a dramatic story. Without the demand that Masada carry a contemporary message, I'm engaged. But if it has to teach me something -- then I'd rather run.

[Read my article about another aspect of my trip which also has to do with the construction of meaning and shifting narratives.]

 

Okay gang. I'm back.

I'm back blogging. I'm back from Israel. I'm back.

Check out my piece, connected to this week's parashat Shemot (the beginning of Exodus) at the JRF web site. I connect, "There arose a Pharoah who knew not Joseph" with feelings I had while in Israel about the changes in the kibbutz movement.

I've been workig feverishly on the JRF's web site, which is my job there along with running the publishing operations.

We are trying to take an institutional web site and give it the dynamism of a blog while providing all the information that we did on the old site. It's been a lot of fun and many, many hours.

JRF's web site

Glad to be back.

Tonight begins the 49th Day of the Omer (May 31 - June 1, 2006), which is seven complete weeks of the omer. May that part of me that is broken in Malkhut in Malkhut be healed on this day.

 

Shai, Michel & Kahlua Im Chalav
Ben Gurion Airport, Israel by Katherine Lavine, June 1978
 

The funny thing about being so close (to Sinai, to God, to a friend, to a dog) is that the feeling of closeness is often connected to some kind of leaving. We often don't even know how close we are until we have to leave.

 

"Lekh lekha m'artzekha - Go to yourself out of your land." (Gen. 12:1)

The Sefat Emet (19th century hasidic commentator) wrote in response to God's call to Abraham, "The human being is called a walker, always having to go from one rung to another." You have to leave your own "land" to get to your own self.

But what about the pain of leaving? Remember it, photograph it, cry about it.

Know too that the closeness, and your memory of it, will forever contribute to your ability to feel God's presence.

This completes the counting of the omer. Hadran Alakh Sefirat Ha'Omer. Oh, omer counting, may I come back to you again next year!

Happy Shavuot!

Tonight begins the 48th Day of the Omer (May 30-31, 2006), which is six weeks and six days of the omer. May that part of me that is broken in Yesod in Malkhut be healed on this day.

 

Speaking Sweet Nothings to Boaz, May, 2006

I Love Boaz, May, 2006
 

Our family of four humans has had Boaz the cute cocker among us since Passover '05. He was three when we got him.

Our daughter had been pitching for a dog for years. She's incredibly responsible. She proved her reliability with pets having taken meticulous care of two different rats, including the administration of antibiotics twice a day for the last three months of the life of Motty, her second rat.

A year after Motty's death, we couldn't put it off any longer. Both kids were committed to walking and feeding duty.

During the first two months of our life with Boaz my wife and I had more doggy parenting-strategy fights than all the kid parenting fights we had had in eleven years of raising two children. The details are not relevant here. In short, we solved the problems.

We are four complicated, ambitious, smart as well as playful, fun, loving, etc. people. Boaz' presence, however, precipitates the pure love in all of us. He's not complicated. He loves (expressed in oh so many ways), he walks, he plays, he smells, he eats, he takes care of his business. Uncomplicated does not mean, "without quirks." But in seeing his quirks we think of our own and even more love flows.

This uncomplicated love helps all of us to keep things in perspective. It helps us breathe deeper. In a house with kids moving towards their pre-teens, it can be a safer form of love for us to share our common adoration of Boaz than for us to express love directly to one another.

It's so easy to get overwhelmed. There is so much to do and the day is short. The care and love of this dog has helped us all to be more resilient and love each other more deeply.

Tonight begins the 47th Day of the Omer (May 29-30, 2006), which is six weeks and five days of the omer. May that part of me that is broken in Hod in Malkhut be healed on this day.

 

Shai at Israel Independence Day Rally
Sproul Plaza, UC Berkeley, CA, May, 1981
 

Being a leftist and a Zionist on campus was a little unusual. There were about ten of us. Representing the "Socialist Zionist Alliance" I got my three minutes under the sun to speak at the Israel Independence Day rally.

Just before my turn to speak I went over to the "Liberate El Salvador" table and picked up a Salvadorian flag. I got up there waving Israeli and El Salvadorian flags and attempted to equate the two struggles.

Sometimes the imaginative echoing of Hod finds a voice in this world (Malkhut) to speak of connections and possibilities that break convention, thereby bringing us closer to wholeness.

Most people probably thought I was psychotic. I felt very good.

Tonight begins the 46th Day of the Omer (May 28-29, 2006), which is six weeks and four days of the omer. May that part of me that is broken in Netzach in Malkhut be healed on this day.

 

Shai Gluskin by West Lake, Hangzhou, China
February, 1984 Photograph by Suzanne Pemberton

A midrash says Moses spent 40 years in Egypt, then 40 years as a shepherd, and finally 40 years as the leader of the Jewish people. Netzach in Malchut correlates to the 40 years he was a shepherd. It was a period of deep learning, of inner work, and of not knowing what his ultimate life work would be.

The photograph shows a clear path bounded by the misty lake and trees. I am between the mist and the path. Though the path provides direction and clarity, the mist is also helpful. For the feet following the path are not the feet of a leader. The leader in me is still forming, and the mist is critical in helping my message to be birthed.

Patience.