Recently, as nomadmatan noticed, I seem to have all but abandoned this blog. I think that the last time I jotted anything here was half a month ago during פסח Passover. Work responsibilities (tying up the final loose ends of the book on Libya) and very minor health issues (I've started physical therapy for my right shoulder. In the end, the rotator cuff is in good shape and this is largely re-education) are causing a time crunch. Mostly, though, I have been busy with my decision to leave Israel. It is not a decision if there is only one viable choice or deciding factor. Thanks to tremendous help from friends on both sides of the sea, I will be Oregon-bound in less than six weeks. In the meantime, there is much to do, but mostly, people with whom I want to spend time. On Sunday evening, Jutta is coming up from Cairo!

Ages ago, I lived with writer Gregory Manin. He spoke to me once about his approach to the alchemy of transforming life into art and the necessity of letting time work its magic on the raw ingredients of experience and feeling. (Of course, perhaps he was just being polite as I imagine I probably had asked him if he ever wrote about me). I do not know what to say about the subtle, inner homecoming which has taken place for me during these past four years in Israel. I only know that it has not taken me in any of the directions I would have predicted or consciously desired. Situations, events (terrorism, war, strikes, roommates, health and the faint indirections of the heart), my work and my studies here already seem to have been largely a backdrop for this transmutation. I cannot imagine my life, however, without the catalyst and the blessing of friendships I hold so dear.

Hail, Abu Hassan! This is everything humus should be!
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Last week, Avi took a day free from school and work and we set off on a trip. Ostensibly, we were headed to Jerusalem. While I love to go to the City, I mostly just wanted to enjoy the day with my friend, especially not knowing how many more we will have together for the time being. We found ourselves going south into Bat Yam instead of east, up to Jerusalem. Rather than get tangled up in the industrial jungle of Holon, we doubled back through Jaffa and stopped for a late breakfast at Abu Hassan's. (Such humus and fuul I surely will not find in Portland!). Eventually, with bellies full, we were on the road again.

We stopped along the way at the Trappist Abbey of Latroun which is in the foothills, midway between Jerusalem and the coast. The French Abbaye Notre Dame def Sept-Fons sent monks to the Land of Israel in 1889 to establish a contemplative monastic community. One hundred and nineteen years later, Latroun is still primarily a French community. They support themselves by producing honey, olive oil and a variety of wines: Gewurztraminer, Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon, and a Muscat à petit grains (a kind of Muscat from Alsace).

Latroun

Thomas Merton Itai Michael

The church is elegantly austere inside. What can I say? Stone really works for me. We arrived in time for Mass. Chant and incense mingled, drifting upwards. I'd like to think that their celebration of the liturgy is this beautiful everyday. It was, however, the Feast of the Ascension. In many ways, this is a picture of my life: the mystery mix of faith, music, languages, intentional community, gardening; the family of choice, the intense yearning and the solace of silence.

Eric was here the other day. He's living in Haifa, but had been camping in the desert. He asked me if I had some Walt Whitman for him, but I came up empty-handed. Walt was gone before the first stone was layed at Latroun. A number of years ago, I translated some of my favorites into Hebrew. Fortunately, only the English remains.

Among the men and women the multitude,
I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs,
Acknowledging none else, not parent, wife, husband, brother, child,
any nearer than I am, Some are baffled, but that one is not--that one knows me.

Ah lover and perfect equal,
I meant that you should discover me so by faint indirections,
And I when I meet you mean to discover you by the like in you.