I had my last Biblical Hebrew lesson on Thursday morning. Besides that and grocery shopping, I've stayed in my room for much of this week. It's been a lazy time, full of long naps, Olympics watching (mostly fencing, let's be real), streaming romantic comedies on Amazon Prime, and eating homemade food plus ice cream. Lots of ice cream.
Hm. This may sound like I'm depressed, but I'm not. I move up to Haifa on Sunday, so this has been my last week in Jerusalem. Rather than hustle over to the Old City to take in as many of the archaeological and holy sites as possible before leaving, I decided to become more of a hermit and enjoy some relaxed solitude in my room instead. I don't regret it. (I promised photos of the holy sites in the Old City, so I will post them in the near future.)
I keep my balcony door open throughout the evening and night starting at around 17:00 when the air cools down dramatically. I will miss Jerusalem weather--while it may be hot during the day, one gets used to it (at least it's dry heat), and you can always count on a cool evening. I've slept incredibly well in my room all month without ac (actually, with a blanket over me!).
Since I've indulged myself in an erratic sleep schedule, I've usually been up in the early am's. I let the standing fan rotate the cool night air around my room, and lounge on my foam bed with my laptop propped up and open to whatever I happen to be reading or watching. I make myself some brown rice green tea I brought from home (the quickest way to feel at home, perhaps) and/or slice myself a generous portion of an ice cream cake I bought the other day on impulse.
I finally got in touch with my mom via Skype today, after a two-week hiatus. It was wonderful to hear her excited voice. Talking to her was grounding for me. Too often, when I am far away, blessed with these trips abroad, I lose touch with roots. I don't necessarily mean ethnic or cultural roots. I'm talking about the real, inexplicable things that ground me, that remind me of who I am underneath all of these flitting experiences. Talking with her reminds me to stay in closer touch with my brother and to keep my petty concerns about x and y in perspective.
These days, I find it easier to slip outside myself and not be fully present, regardless of where I am. It's too easy to let an experience go by. I may notice something special in a glimmer of a moment and relish it, but it's unfortunate when I witness it all by myself. It's so much better holding it together with a friend. That is why I like to sketch and linger in certain atmospheres... it helps me to take things in more slowly and the sketchbook becomes a kind of companion (plus a means of carrying back the moment to a real person back home). Admittedly though, my sketchbook hasn't been filling up very much... I let it get forgotten on my shelf. Especially in Jerusalem, I get shy sketching people, since it feels like cultural voyeurism and I feel guilty for wanting to capture someone because of how foreign they are to me.
I wanted to be more present during this summer in Israel, in part because of some insistent hope in the holiness of this land... I wanted to experience some significant connection to the history and narratives here. As overly sentimental as it may seem, I must confess it.
But living in Israel hasn't been some kind of "life changing experience," as it can be for some others, and that's okay. The more I go to the holy sites and experience the touristic atmosphere, the more distant I actually feel from my faith sometimes. It seems so at odds with the Jesus figure who walked the dusty roads and healed people. I have conflicting feelings about ritual spaces and practices. There is a church at nearly every single holy site. Many of them are quite beautiful. I especially love the ones that have sought to embrace its visitors on an international scale. At the same time, I've rarely felt worshipful in those spaces because of all the camera flashes and tourist groups bustling about. It's tough, since access is important, and I'd love for all people to be able to visit these sites. I just have to accept that a consequence right now is a lack of quietude. I also can't shake the fact that so many of these sites are holy by tradition more so than historical truth, since the latter is so shaky to confirm. Sometimes, I wish I could just blissfully sink into ignorance about that and just revel in being in these biblical places.
Hm. This may sound like I'm depressed, but I'm not. I move up to Haifa on Sunday, so this has been my last week in Jerusalem. Rather than hustle over to the Old City to take in as many of the archaeological and holy sites as possible before leaving, I decided to become more of a hermit and enjoy some relaxed solitude in my room instead. I don't regret it. (I promised photos of the holy sites in the Old City, so I will post them in the near future.)
I keep my balcony door open throughout the evening and night starting at around 17:00 when the air cools down dramatically. I will miss Jerusalem weather--while it may be hot during the day, one gets used to it (at least it's dry heat), and you can always count on a cool evening. I've slept incredibly well in my room all month without ac (actually, with a blanket over me!).
Since I've indulged myself in an erratic sleep schedule, I've usually been up in the early am's. I let the standing fan rotate the cool night air around my room, and lounge on my foam bed with my laptop propped up and open to whatever I happen to be reading or watching. I make myself some brown rice green tea I brought from home (the quickest way to feel at home, perhaps) and/or slice myself a generous portion of an ice cream cake I bought the other day on impulse.
I finally got in touch with my mom via Skype today, after a two-week hiatus. It was wonderful to hear her excited voice. Talking to her was grounding for me. Too often, when I am far away, blessed with these trips abroad, I lose touch with roots. I don't necessarily mean ethnic or cultural roots. I'm talking about the real, inexplicable things that ground me, that remind me of who I am underneath all of these flitting experiences. Talking with her reminds me to stay in closer touch with my brother and to keep my petty concerns about x and y in perspective.
These days, I find it easier to slip outside myself and not be fully present, regardless of where I am. It's too easy to let an experience go by. I may notice something special in a glimmer of a moment and relish it, but it's unfortunate when I witness it all by myself. It's so much better holding it together with a friend. That is why I like to sketch and linger in certain atmospheres... it helps me to take things in more slowly and the sketchbook becomes a kind of companion (plus a means of carrying back the moment to a real person back home). Admittedly though, my sketchbook hasn't been filling up very much... I let it get forgotten on my shelf. Especially in Jerusalem, I get shy sketching people, since it feels like cultural voyeurism and I feel guilty for wanting to capture someone because of how foreign they are to me.
I wanted to be more present during this summer in Israel, in part because of some insistent hope in the holiness of this land... I wanted to experience some significant connection to the history and narratives here. As overly sentimental as it may seem, I must confess it.
But living in Israel hasn't been some kind of "life changing experience," as it can be for some others, and that's okay. The more I go to the holy sites and experience the touristic atmosphere, the more distant I actually feel from my faith sometimes. It seems so at odds with the Jesus figure who walked the dusty roads and healed people. I have conflicting feelings about ritual spaces and practices. There is a church at nearly every single holy site. Many of them are quite beautiful. I especially love the ones that have sought to embrace its visitors on an international scale. At the same time, I've rarely felt worshipful in those spaces because of all the camera flashes and tourist groups bustling about. It's tough, since access is important, and I'd love for all people to be able to visit these sites. I just have to accept that a consequence right now is a lack of quietude. I also can't shake the fact that so many of these sites are holy by tradition more so than historical truth, since the latter is so shaky to confirm. Sometimes, I wish I could just blissfully sink into ignorance about that and just revel in being in these biblical places.
No comments:
Post a Comment