Changes

I wrote the following as an early assignment for a Creative Writing course I'm taking in Jerusalem at Pardes. I think it reflects some of how my experiences here have changed, and how I am so often in dialogue internally with my last year-long stay in Israel...

14 September 2008

For this first out-of-class assignment, I've chosen to sit in front of the Super HaMoshava on Emek R'Fayim. The Why is simple: it was here, just off Emek R'Fayim, that I lived the last time I was in Israel, seven years ago, at Beit Nativ.

It was here that I gorged on Burger's Bar - before it became a sizable chain, and existed in a small hole where the cook/cashier chain-smoked as he prepared the delicious burgers. And yes, they tasted better back then.

It was on Emek that I ordered heaping portions of Thaliandi stir-fry in an effort to quell my rumblings resulting from lack of good Asian food. I gave them a lot of business back then. Now, they are gone.

It was at Beit Nativ, on Yoshua bin Nun street, just off Emek, that we sat, seven years and three days ago, watching together in silence, as one - then two - airplanes were flown into the twin towers of the World Trade Center. It was in that living room, just off Emek R'Fayim, that I whispered a silent prayer of thanks through my stunned senses that, as we watched the towers fall, my sister had decided to go to work late that day. She worked in the WTC building next door. She was still at home when I called some thirty minutes earlier, getting ready for work, as yet unaware that anything about that day was at all unusual.

It was at Beit Nativ, just off Emek R'Fayim, that I again witnessed terror from afar. I had left the US, having weighed the dangers of terror attacks in Israel witnessed from afar, only to arrive in Israel and find myself again on the other side of the Atlantic, watching. It was here that I watched as the my home country began to make less and less sense. Here, at a strange removal from events at home, I watched an administration co-opt terms like Patriotism and Loyalty and I watched as this administration sent out its hunting dogs on the trail of revenge for an act that, however terrible and despicable, I felt we did not fully understand. It was here that I witnessed the first moments in the subsequent tarnishing of our nation's image in the world around us. I watched how pity and empathy were inverted into scorn and disbelief.

So much has change since I lived here seven years ago. My bag still gets checked when I enter a school or cafe, but I can sit and enjoy my meal or coffee without wondering whether the backpack of the sketchy man who just came in contains the device that will blow this place apart.

There is life here, where seven years ago were only the trappings of those who chose to come anyway, despite the atmosphere of danger. Instead of Thailandi, now, there is Soya - three times the menu, three times the expense. Instead of Burger Ranch, there's an Aroma coffee shop. And where once sat the Kabbala Center, there is now a Buffalo Steakhouse.

The place isn't the same. But then, how could it be? For I also am not the same as I was, seven years ago, living in Beit Nativ, just off Emek R'Fayim.

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GOP VP Pick Gov. Sarah Palin - a Powerful choice

Within the last few hours the McCain campaign has announced its pick for VP candidate and brought Alaska Governor Sarah Palin onstage for her first appearance with McCain in Dayton, OH. Obviously there's a lot to be said about the historical nature of her candidacy as the first female GOP VP candidate. And the question of whether Hillary Clinton's female supporters will be swayed to vote Republican in November is a significant question. But what struck me about the choice as she walked onstage with her husband and children was the brilliant and potent connection she has to small-town America. It's nothing new that the Republican party has historically spoken louder to small-town America than the Democratic party - but with this choice, McCain may have officially eradicated Obama's chances of winning over any significant portion of this demographic.

Why am I so struck by Palin? Follow the jump and I'll tell you...


As McCain's pick for VP became increasingly apparent, I was intrigued by Palin's story - born in Sandpoint, Idaho (a small, wonderful community that I call a second home) and raised in Alaska; an Alum from the University of Idaho (a partner in my AmeriCorps stint after college) and of course her rise from city council member to mayor to governor.

But it wasn't until she appeared onstage with her husband and children that I thought Shit. Small-town, middle America is going to LOVE Sarah Palin.

First of all, her family is beautiful. Not in the rich, manicured sense often seen in political families, but in a manner which will resonate in the hearts of an awful lot of townfolk across America. Her husband is handsome, grizzled, tall and has an easy smile - and has no problem letting his wife take the stage while he stands with the kids. Her daughters are beautiful, and while I haven't seen what her oldest son looks like, he joined the US Army a year ago (on, um, Sept. 11) and, well, who doesn't like a young man in uniform? Oh, and did I mention her youngest son, born just a few months ago, has been diagnosed with Downs Syndrome? It's like something ripped straight out of the human interest section of People Magazine..except they're all standing on stage with Senator John McCain accepting the GOP VP nomination.

Her husband has been a commercial fisherman, in the steel-worker's union and is a classic back-woods outdoorsmen. She herself is a former union member and, Jesus, used to get up at 3 am to hunt with her father. I can't speak enough to the ways in which she, her family, and their stories will resonate with small town residents with whom I've celebrated bagging a 6'3" bear a fireman has been tracking for 5 weeks or a moose big enough to feed the family for two years. And, by the way, whose teenagers are the ones shipping off to Iraq.

And what was the Obama campaign's first response? To belittle her as a "mayor of a town of 9,000 with zero foreign policy experience." Yes, this is a true statement. And it's also a statement that, combined with his image as an elitist, foreign candidate, I fear will push away any of the small-town Americans who may have been warming to his candidacy. When held up with the image I saw of Gov. Palin as a strong executive leader, warm mother of a radiant family spread between Iraq and Downs Syndrome and gracious supporter and ardent champion of the American people - including those who don't live in the cities but often struggle as much as any impoverished urban community - I can't help but think that John McCain has made a brilliant choice in his selection of GOP running mate.

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What would Shacharit-Yoga look like?

I'm sitting here with all this excess energy manifesting itself as heat radiating from the palms of my hands and the soles of my feet -- hardly the first time this has happened, and not the first time I've wondered whether there was some useful outlet I could channel this energy towards, perhaps along the lines of Reiki or some such. At any rate, I thought about the idea of "spirituality through movement," which is an idea important enough to me, in theory at least, that it is part of the reason behind the Lotus flower tattooed on my back.

So I began to think about morning rituals.


The first that came to mind was Shacharit, the traditional Jewish morning prayer. Before this thought, I should say, I spent some time attempting to channel this excess energy out of my body and into the world where perhaps it could warm someone in need of warmth while simultaneously cooling down my body. So I began to think of how, for many, the favored time for meditation is in the early morning...which in turn led me to think of the Jewish form of morning meditation - Shacharit.

Built into the structure of the Shacharit service is a scaffolding of prayers often compared to the ascending of a mountain. The initial prayers begin the process of removing sleep from the eyes and warming up one's soul as the prayers continue their progression towards higher planes of spirituality and kavanah (intention). At the peak of the service is the Amidah, during which one draws into his most introspective, personal self while at the same time attempting to open up to the sense of awe and connectedness to the world (at least, that's one way that I see it). Just as a climber cannot remain forever at a mountain peak, though, Shacharit continues into the "cool-down" prayers that gradually bring the davener back into the normal, physical space from which he or she can continue their day.

The previous paragraph is of course a hugely understated summary of the structure and progression of a traditional Jewish t'fillah, but serves its purpose in that there are parallels between its structure/progression and that of meditation and movement practices such as yoga or tai chi whose goal is to integrate body, mind and spirit - moving between planes and from physical spaces into spiritual and back. After all, one doesn't begin an hour of yoga by jumping straight into intricate twists, back bends or balancing acts. And in Shacharit (or any t'fillah, for that matter), one does not just jump straight into the Amidah. Just as there are bows and rhythmic movements during Shacharit that help stimulate blood flow to the muscles as well as the brain, Yoga often begins with sun salutations and forwards bends. So I begin to think now about ways in which a practiced yoga-practitioner could develop a progression of movements that parallel the progression of prayer during Shacharit, and how, with practice, the two could become an intertwined practice of morning meditation, movement and spirituality.

This is a very early thought, and I certainly don't have enough yoga experience to put something like this together just as yet. But as I consider arenas to explore during this fellowship year in Israel, this strikes me as maybe not a bad use of some personal time to begin peeling into some deeper layers of the ideas and motifs I have deemed personally important to who I am and what I value as a Jew and as a person.

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Ok, so it's been awhile - this is true. My apologies for my protracted absence. That said, it's about damn time for an update, so here goes.

Since my last post, I've spent a couple winter months working at Schweitzer Mtn Resort as a ski instructor, which was wonderful and during which I felt probably the healthiest I've felt in at least a few years. So, that was hard to leave, but leave I did before the season was over, to return to Olympic Park Institute where I continued as a field science educator through the spring season. The weather was, well, less than optimal at the start of the season (let's just say that late january-february isn't the best time for olympic peninsula weather) but by the end of the season it was spectacularly gorgeous and, again hard to leave. Follow the jump to find out where I went next :-)


Immediately following a great visit from my sis the last week of May, we drove back to Spokane where I spent a couple days before flying east to Ohio where I spent the summer as Teva Supervisor at Camp Wise, a JCC camp outside of Cleveland. I could write an entire post, or several, about my experiences there, but in short it was a great summer with some very warm and wonderful people, filled with campers small and large, many hikes and hours spent in front of campfires and even a few canoe and backpacking trips thrown in.

Last Sunday, I left camp a couple days early to head to NY for the stateside bit of orientation for the Dorot Fellowship in Israel, which occupies the next ten months of my life! Orientation was both enjoyable and intense, not for it's schedule, which was blessedly relaxed (a welcome change from the hectic pace of camp) but appropriately evocative of both the excitements and the challenges we are set to experience throughout the year. As such, I left orientation with excitement and a head full of thoughts for the challenges the year will bring.

A few other relevant bits of info: there are 12 fellows total, I will be starting off the year in Jerusalem doing ulpan and studying, but may spend time elsewhere after a few months. I'd like to get involved in some environmental work and education, spend as much time as I can traveling, hiking and backpacking (including hiking as much of the Israel National Trail as I can) but will undoubtedly find myself involved in a myriad of other projects and experiences that I have no way of anticipating yet. I have many, many more thoughts both on orientation and the coming year, and fully intend to express them in future posts that will be much more frequent from this point on! So tune back in regularly and if anyone is in Israel then look me up, because I would love to see you!

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costume mishap --> altered persona

"I am a man of the people. The people of Cal-i-fornia."
~Zorro

Well, this Halloween, I wasn't a man for the people of California, but I was an educator for the children of the Olympic Peninsula. Though not my usual self. In fact, a misplaced bandana led to a two-day long social experiment with a few amusing results. Read on below for more!

Last weekend, for the local Halloween party, I dressed up as Zorro. For the past almost 2 months, I'd been growing out my beard so I could trim it down to a Zorro mustache with plenty of length to curl the sides up with adequate flair. Well, I guess I should have gotten some mustache wax, because my hair goo wasn't up to the task...but it was close. One of my more successful costumes in recent memory, it included the hat and cape (which I rented from a costume shop nearby), black bandana with eye holes (pilfered) button-down vest, black shirt with poofy sleeves and black pants (goodwill), calf-high leather boots to tuck my pants into (my own) and a thin-bladed French sword (local pawn shop...not quite a foil, but the closest I could find). A way fun party with live music the first half and then great dance mix the second.

But the real fun begins wednesday. We had two programs this week, both from Sequim Middle School, with half the 6th graders mon-wed, and the other half wed-fri. Wednesday was what we call a crossover day, because one group left as another arrived, and we had but an hour to recuperate and re-energize before grabbing another group and beginning to teach. Wednesday was also Halloween.

I had planned to be Zorro again for the kids, though with black waders and rain pants, a shorter cape, and only the bandana with eye-holes and no hat. But in the morning, I couldn't find my bandana, and had to get to work...so no Zorro. Instead I donned a short cape with a Harry Potter "Gryffindor" crest, and apparently looked like a Seeker with that, my red soft-shell jacket, and black leather driving gloves. That was the morning. The experiment began during the crossover.

Excited to mix up my costume, I looked through the costume box and found several items which, together, changed my look quite a bit:

Item one: thick plastic-framed glasses, with non-prescription lenses, meaning they looked like real glasses.

Item two: an old, trucker-style Pac-Man hat.

Item three: lavender-colored ear-muffs.

Item four: a wool jacket, short, with buttons and a belt-buckle wrap around the waist, kind of like some sort of air force meets gamer jacket.

All together, I looked a little ridiculous. But I decided to have a bit of an experiment. Since these kids had never met me, I decided not only to be in costume, but to alter my entire persona, and continue the experiment thursday as though I wasn't in costume at all on wednesday. So I spoke a bit higher, talked faster, got excited at decidedly nerdy things (well, even more-so than usual) and changed the gait of my walk.

The next step was that night, when I dressed up as an old man as part of our night-hike evening program. With an enormous gray beard, wig, and "old man" makeup, barely any of my face was visible and in the dark I led 4 groups of kids (1 group at a time) to the dock to tell the story of the Lady of the Lake. Marissa dressed up as the Lady, and hid in the canoe next to the dock, and at the appropriate point sat up and scared the heck out of the kids, before calming their fears by explaning that she's a friendly ghost. It was great. And, none of the kids knew who I was. At all.

The next day, I returned to my daytime-dorky persona, and when a few kids asked if I was at the night hike I told them no, I had the night off, which they believed. So I stayed in character the whole day.

This morning, I showed up at morning meeting to tell my kids where to meet me when dismissed -- sans glasses, and also with my mustache shaved off, and with a beanie rather than the trucker hat. When I walked in, gave a quick direction in my normal, lower voice, and then walked out, I heard several kids ask "Hey! Where's Yoshi??" Perfect.

When we met up, I told them I celebrate halloween on fridays, and this was my costume. I got a few head scratches at that. Successful experiment? Check. More analysis of change in social interaction due to different personas pending, for I must be leaving.

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A pleasant encounter after a rockin' (first) solo backpack

As per my last post, I often get annoyed at drivers on the road. So often they're obnoxious, oblivious or obstinate. But today, I had an encounter of the opposite nature that just tickled me.

As I drove out of Olympic Natl. Park earlier today, having just completed my first solo backpacking trip (more on that later), I was having fun speeding around the curves of the road that leads to Hurricane Ridge. As I came around one corner and approached another, a truck approaching me flashed its lights several times. My first reaction was to slow down, which I did, then wondered "why was that guy flashing his lights at me? Did he think I was driving too fast? Hm."

Well, my answer came around that next corner, where I saw a parked Ranger Truck clearly looking for speeders. And, because the dude in the truck had flashed his lights at me (which I now realized was a warning) I was going just over the speed limit -- not nearly fast enough for the ranger to pull me over. Had I not received that warning, however...it quite possibly could have meant a speeding ticket. And who needs that? So, as I drove past the Ranger truck with a wave, I couldn't help but giggle out loud and pumped my fist up in the air with a "rock on!" salute to the driver who warned me that a Ranger was around the corner waiting for speeders like me. Guy in the truck, whoever you are, you rock. I wish more drivers were as thoughtfully awesome as that guy.

That being said...as I mentioned earlier I just completed my first solo backpacking trip. AWESOME. is what it was. I had yesterday and today off work, and figured I should do something worthwhile, and decided to go backpacking in the Olympics, especially since I got a sweet new backpack for my birthday. Since nobody else was off, though, I didn't have any companions...thus the solo. After a couple recs, I decided to start at Obstruction Point, a short drive from Port Angeles, and head out to the Grand Lakes area via the Lillian Ridge traverse. I also wanted to check out Grand Pass/Grandview Peak, but decided I would probably set up camp before that point and then do a quick trip up and back.

So, I headed out from the trailhead right about 1130 after eating an enormous breakfast at The Haven in PA - veggie scramble plus one slice of their special autumn french toast, since I couldn't decide btwn the two options - which was totally delish. Good thing I was going backpacking, because I ate a lot. After filling my water bottle at the Hurricane Ridge Visitor's Center, I headed down Obstruction Pt. Road, which is decidedly treacherous at some points and I don't recommend if you have a serious fear of heights. After not too long, though, I got the trailhead and got myself ready to head out.

The trail heads up a nice little uphill stretch - just long enough to get the legs burning - and then cuts along Lillian Ridge with awe-striking views of the escalating mountains to the southwest and timber-filled Badger Valley to the northeast. I expected rain sometime in the afternoon, and the clouds didn't seem like they would let me down as they cast a thick wool blanket over the sky and the wind tore around the ridge.

After a mile and a half or so, the trail begins cutting down into Grand Valley, along steep talus-strewn slopes that made me glad I brought along trekking poles. Grand Lake came into view after another mile, and after a succession of switchbacks that brought me into a dark and cool fir forest and a couple small stream crossings I found myself at the junction above Grand Lake where I took a break before heading further to Moose Lake and eventually to Gladys Lake where I made my camp.

Gladys Lake is the smallest of the three tarns - small mtn lakes, often formed in cirques created by glaciers that carved out the mountainside and then left a lip in their wake as they receded - in Grand Valley, with a house-sized boulder sitting on the peninsula that extends into the middle of the tarn. Though adequately tired out, I kept looking past the first campsite to see what other options I had, and found a perfect little heather meadow nestled into the slope just on the other side of the lip that holds the lake. With a rectangular flat area on ground slightly higher than the dangerously tempting flat circular recession a few yards away (a bad idea, especially with rain in the forecast), which would become my cooking area, and a near-horizontal fallen tree suspended a good twenty feet off the ground - perfect for hanging a bear-line - I knew I had found my site.

I got some water boiling to make some miso to go with my peanut butter crunch Clif Bar (dipped in peanut butter - mmm) and got my tent set up, and just as I got my bear-bag hung the rain began to drizzle. Tired as I was, with plenty of day left to spare, I crawled into my sleeping bag to enjoy my miso, read a bit and take a nap. Disaster nearly struck when I knocked my miso cup onto the tent floor, but luckily it stayed in a constrained puddle long enough for me to slurp most of it up before it could spread all over (my tent is clean...right?). While I wiped it up pretty well with my camp towel, I had kind of broken the whole "no food in the tent" rule pretty badly...hopefully the rain and falling temperatures would keep the bears from snooping too closely? Hm.

At any rate, I awoke from my nap to discover that the rain had stopped (and that a deer and fawn were grazing outside my tent - hullo), so I grabbed the window of time to hike up to Grand Pass, another mile+ or so up the trail. My pack substantially lighter without my food, tent, sleeping bag, pad, etc., my legs nonetheless burned and groaned the entire way up. I made it to the top though, and a little further up to Grandview Peak (6670 ft), and was treated to astounding views of Lake Lillian and McCartney Peak to the southwest, Cameron Creek down in the valley to the south, and Grand Valley and another valley whose name I couldn't figure out (Lillian River Valley?) to the northeast and north. As the wind kicked up and clouds swept by around me at right about 6 pm, I gave a good whoop that echoed in the valleys and then made my way back down to camp.

The rain started coming down again just as I got into camp (sweet timing) and I got water going for dinner. Scrumptious. Just as it was getting dark, I pulled my headlamp out, which opened at the same time and I heard something roll down my pack and into the underbrush. Looking at my headlamp, I saw that two batteries were missing, so reached around in the bushes and found one battery pretty quickly despite the quickly receding light. The second, however, proved a rather different story. After a few minutes of poking around trying to feel it, I decided some light was in order. How ironic. The headlamp with a missing battery being my only light, and having not brought extra batteries (oops) I pulled out a lighter and used the small light from the flame to search around for that elusive battery. A good ten minutes later, it was still nowhere to be found. Well, I wasn't panicked - I could certainly feel my way back into my tent and into my sleeping bag, and didn't think I would need the light for an emergency hike-out. But it was only 7:45 and I wanted to read for awhile before bed. About to resign myself to the darkness, I had one last idea spring to mind and reached into my backtop to find that the other battery had fallen not onto the ground but into this pocket. Hooray!

Headlamp on head, I escaped the rain and read up on the Natural History of the Olympics for a couple hours while I warmed myself up. It was really hard to pull myself out of my sleeping bag and into the rain to pee, but I knew I wouldn't sleep well without peeing first. So, having peed, I wondered whether the rain would last all night, and whether enough would seep in through the seams I forgot to seam-seal to be problematic, and then went to sleep.

I awoke about 2:30 to discover that the rain had stopped, and poked my head out to see that, though a thin veil of clouds covered the just-past-full moon, it was still bright beyond belief and my entire campsite was lit in a pale and serene (and kind of spooky) glow such that I half expected wolves to wander through and break the quiet with their howling, despite wolves having been extirpated from the Olympics back in the 1920s. Needless to say, a really cool moment that was much appreciated before pulling back in and going back to sleep.

After sleeping in, I was glad to hear that the rain had not returned, and was even more surprised to find sun and blue sky above when I got out of the tent. Not that it was warm, mind you. The beads of rain from earlier in the night had frozen to the tent and the heather was frosted through the meadow. But seeing the valley in the sunlight was a beautiful contrast to the also beautiful shades of grey from the day before. So I made some tea and grabbed my siddur.

In order to find some sunlight, I took my tea and siddur with me across the stream nearby and davened shacharit in the crisp sunlight with a chilly wind occasionally blowing through. Interestingly, as I approached the Amidah I felt distinctly warmer between the wind calming down and the sun climbing higher in the sky. I walked back to my campsite humming nigguns and got breakfast water going.

While waiting for my food to hydrate, I did a few of my favorite katas and Mon Gon Teon (that will only make sense to a few of you) to loosen up and get the blood flowing, and chowed down before packing up camp and heading out. Saying a hooray inside for the continuing sunlight, I soon passed Grand Lake and turned northeast to head back along the Badger Valley trail to loop back to Obstruction Point. Following Grand Creek down Grand Valley before crossing over to Badger Valley and climbing up out the Badger Creek drainage, this trail is longer but less steep and stays lower for longer as it passes through thicker fir forests than my previous route. It also shows opportunities for some very cool water features on Grand Creek - ie the splendiferous waterfall I went off trail to get a good view of and the smaller drop-off into a brown-tinted pool that almost looked more like it belonged in Australia than in the Olympics, where I took a break and ate a chocolate brownie clif bar smeared with peanut butter and drizzled with honey on top. Backpacking lets you make such great creations.

Anyway, the legs were mad tired as I climbed out through the Badger Creek drainage, and while the sun was still shining here and there as the clouds opened (wow they move quickly) the temperature was definitely dropping and around 3:30 some tiny snowflakes whisped around me (apparently it snowed at nearby hurricane ridge). The final climb up to Obstruction Peak was a haul, but well worth it as I got to my car at 5 and chatted for a minute with an elderly couple coming up to see the view.

So, fully satisfied with my quick trip out n' around, I came back into town and chowed down a huge portion of phad thai, and am now chilling at the house in port angeles listening to Blake attempt to control the girls by talking to them like the girls he coaches in soccer - "Kris! A spoon and ice cream now or you gotta run a lap!" It's not working very well. Maybe someone should remind him that there really is a doghouse outside.

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Like most good environmentalists, few things get me more riled up while driving than the sight of an enormous Hummer roaring down the blacktop. But today, while driving back to the Olympic Peninsula after spending Yom Kippur in Spokane, I chanced an encounter that was almost beyond absurd.

Somewhere between Cle Ellum and North Bend as I drove through Snoqualmie Pass (rugged territory, I know...especially where the highway goes from two lanes to four; good thing I have an all wheel drive Suby) I approached a bright yellow Hummer.

What struck me first was that this was an old-school Hummer, back from the days when Hummers (or were they called Hum-Vees back then? I'm not sure we ever got that figured out) were still a sight that aroused a response more akin to "what the hell is that thing??" than "[insert numerous expletives, curses and hexes here]" like today.

As I came closer, I saw that the Hummer had a Jesus fish on its rear bumper, and a stenciled window decal of Jesus -just the face with the crown of thorns, not the whole body crucifixion- on the back window. Hm. Not your usual Hummer flair.

With an eyebrow raised, I passed the Hummer in the right lane and was rendered speechless by the phrase I could see in my rearview mirror, repeated twice along the bottom of the windshield: "Team Extreme."

Wow. An old-school, bright yellow Hummer (or is it HumVee?) with Jesus stickers on the back and Team Extreme blazing across the windshield in front. Needless to say there were also rally-car high-beam lights affixed to the top. Anyone who has seen Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle will appreciate the wonderful irony of seeing this phenomenon in real life. I almost feel blessed that I had such a rare opportunity today, were it not for the faint rumble of nausea that accompanied the experience.

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an update on the life

Well my goodness a lot has happened since my last post. Most of the people who actually read this blog (my mom, my sister, maybe maggie and rachel...maybe...any other consistent readers I don't know about?) will already know, but I decided not to take the fellowship in boston. yadda yadda but it wasn't the right choice for me this year. After looking into things, and flying to Chicago unsure of where I would go once I picked up Shayna's car, I got a voicemail upon landing from Kim at the Olympic Park Institute (OPI), who I had called the week before to inquire about any staff openings (and left a message...so had never actually spoken person-to-person), to let me know a couple positions had opened up and she would like to speak with me. Long story short(er) - I sent her my resume etc, we spoke the next day on the phone, I got an offer the next morning, and the next morning (last saturday) I left chicago to drive west.

4 full days of driving (and 2,269 miles) later, I was at Kim's house for a welcome dinner where I met new and returning staff, and then went to the house - Le Sage, as it's called - across the lake from OPI where I'll be living this fall. And discovered I have no cell phone reception or internet out there (but do have a landline phone). Definitely felt like I'd regressed 12 years back to the mid-90s. But it's absolutely gorgeous, right on glacier-fed Crescent Lake, with an enormous deck, dock and boathouse, and I share it with 2-4 other staffers (depending on whether Margaret and Chris, a staff couple, are sleeping there or at the house in town).

The next morning, I caught a ride in to the OPI campus with one of my housemates (Claire) and saw it for the first time, just 20 minutes before new staff training started. Hard to believe that just a week earlier at roughly the same time I was boarding a plane to Chicago without any idea what I would be doing, and now I was starting a new job. Oh, what is this job, exactly? Excellent question, and I suppose one that would have been good to answer a couple paragraphs ago. I'll be a field science educator here at OPI; essentially a field instructor, very similar to the environmental education work I was doing at MOSS, but teaching a wider range of ages and topics.

So far, staff training has been going well. The new staff get along really well, and the older staff are all very open and enthusiastic. Right now I'm at the staff house in town (port angeles) where they just got internet installed. Tonight we'll probably head to Le Sage for dinner, which none of the other new staff have seen yet, and tomorrow we're hoping to go to Port Townsend for the wooden boat festival, which should be fun.

So that's about it for now. I'm sure I'll update more later as more happens, but I'm super excited to continue staff training and then start teaching in a week. It seems like a great community, and I think I'll have the opportunity to learn a heck of a lot. Righteous.

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oregano with the wind

There's an oregano field just outside Rathdrum, ID that I pass when traveling to/from Sandpoint. the past couple times the herb has been in full bloom, a shimmering facade of purple over green topped only by the incredible smell.

In the house on Manito Blvd where I grew up, we used to have a patch of oregano growing in the garden. Situated as it was along the dilapidated sports court between our house and the back alley - which was the usual route home, whether from school or from our grandparents' house around the corner - I passed the oregano cluster sometimes several times a day, and it's a smell ingrained into my childhood, much like picking fresh blackberries and raspberries from the fence along the alley. Being a smell, though, it hits something different from the somewhat more abstract memory of picking berries - though I'm sure if I were standing along a blackberry bush, its smell would hit me similarly.

Anyway, the point is really just that the oregano field smells totally, absolutely, completely wonderful and is just one more reason I'm glad I started taking a different route between Spokane and Sandpoint, bypassing Coeur d'Alene for the Rathdrum Prairie with its rural golden fields and aromas.

[end]

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A Reason to Worry

On my way to Coeur d'Alene this morning, I saw a bumper sticker that read:

"Why worry? God is in control."

Incidentally, the car also had a Bush/Cheney '04 sticker on the window as well. The combination really got me thinking - what a terrible philosophy to go about your daily life with. It's tantamount to saying humans have no responsibility for the consequences of our actions and decisions, whether for ourselves, for others or for our planet.

Let's take global warming as an obvious issue that I'm concerned with. To follow this bumper sticker ideology, we shouldn't worry. And we shouldn't feel the need to take any responsibility either. Sure, the climate is changing, the ice caps are melting, sea levels will rise, populations up to the millions may die or get displaced by flooding as coastal cities find themselves off-coast disaster areas. Infectious diseases will spread increasingly rapidly, drought will juxtapose flooding, food will be scarce - but why worry? God is in control.

We could look at any number of issues - Iraq, Darfur, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict - and excuse ourselves from responsibility because hey, God is in control. Iraq is a mess, but clearly God wants us to interfere with the spread of Islam and is in control in Iraq. Millions are dying from disease and conflict, but it's God's bidding, so why worry?

As I see it, the last thing God would say to humanity right now is not to worry. If anything, God would say "My children, why aren't you doing more?! How can you continue destroying your brothers and sisters and my earth??" God would want us not only to worry about the state of the world, but to also do something about it. Tikkun Olam. I just cannot submit to a fatalistic view of God's will. As Jews, we are taught that we've been given stewardship over this planet and all its - God's - creatures. Stewardship has a very specific connotation, different from ownership or signing a lease. A steward is defined as one who administers anything as the agent of another or others. We've been placed in charge, been given this charge, by God to administer the affairs of this earth, which places a huge amount of responsibility in our hands.

For better or for worse, God may be in control, but not in the way the bumper sticker implies. God is in control the same way as a parent or teacher is, who gives their children or students a task and then sits back to watch as the child is then free to make mistakes, to find failures and ultimately successes. In this way, the child is taught accountability for their decisions and actions. They cannot rely on the mantra: "mommy and daddy will make it all ok." And we cannot rely on the mantra: "Don't worry, God is in control, and will make it all ok." If there exists a messianic era to come, we have a lot of work to do - work that only we, as humans, can choose to do - before we've prepared each other and the world for that era.

So don't tell me not to worry. I will worry, as long as humans continue to dominate and destroy each other, as long as humans destroy the planet and its resources. But I will also hope, and that goes hand in hand with worrying. Because if you concede that God is the only factor controlling everything, then it doesn't matter what we do as humans. And if it doesn't matter what we do, what significance do we have in our destinies, individual or collective? I can't accept this lack of significance. So I will worry, and I will hope, and I will choose to take responsibility, because that's what God asks of us.

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