Today the sun must have been feeling the moon. The moon was already up in the sky when the sun began descending. The moon, almost full, rising above the palm trees in a clear blue sky. It is Friday eve, On Sunday the moon shall appear full. It is full every night, shining with all its glory, yet we get to perceive it as full only once a month.
The moon does not seem to mind. It keeps on with its motion, with its fullness and nakedness, circling the earth, playing with the oceans, and a bit with our moods.
The sunsets in the past few days were nice but not remarkable. The sun set in full orange/red, but left no real trace in the sky. Only the waters kept a hint of pink in them after the sun was gone. Subtle sunsets.
Tonight. The sun was playing with the clouds, in and out. Appearing half, turning bright red, leaving streaks of warmed tone brush strokes within the cool colored clouds, reappearing, and just when the drums are roaming with the ocean waves, the sun speeds up its move and instead of waiting for the curtain to come down, it sinks behind the ocean.
Not sure where it went, or if it went anywhere at all. So much of life is just an appearance.
Was this real?
Big Vagator, one of the last beaches that have a long stretch of sand, with no cafés and beds on it, palm trees, some rocks, and Chapora fort on the hill behind. It’s a beautiful place to watch the sun kiss the ocean, letting light fade away, as we welcome the stars.
The stars, unlike the sun, will accept their low appearance as the moon glows, and will wait silently for another few days till the moons’ reflection of the sun dims away.
(Hmmm, nice to think of the stars waiting, when it’s us really that see all these different appearances. The stars are just the stars, as the moon is just the moon, each floating in its space, within its own rhythm. That’s one part of nature, we humans have not managed to tame…thankfully)
Friday, December 21, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
Watsu
Roger welcomes me with a smile and a glass of water. Well the glass is made of metal, aluminum probably, as many dishes are here in India, but has a fancy rim to it, with three rings around the top.
We leave the main house, a beautiful white structure, a bit Indian, but with some Guggenheim museum affects, and light blue trim.
We head down to the Watsu pool. On the way we pass the area that he uses for dance parties, one of his great hobbies. “Now I am trying to master tango”, he tells me. “I love it, but have some difficulty with the structure. I am more used to free form dancing”. I remember learning to dance salsa in Cuba, and for the first time had to learn to keep my torso steady, move my legs in the right form of steps. It was indeed difficult for me. My body wanted to melt into the music, flow with its own rhythm. I understood that it shall happen later, when the form becomes part of me, but did not have enough curiosity to stick with it. I think that what attracted me most to it, is the partner dancing, how close two people share space, moving closer and away, touching, and looking into each other creating a new harmony.
The pool is chemical free, with warm water, blue with all white around. The place has a clean and safe feeling, as white walls and a black fabric awning like those used for green houses, close the area.
Watsu is a treatment, like a massage or a healing treatment that is done in the water.
After Roger kindly explains all that I should expect, we are both in the water, and I surrender.
I float in his hands, letting him take me around. I close my eyes, diving inside. I feel the body move, twisting, legs held up, arching of the back. I am held close like a child or let loose and floating about. Always I feel secure with him guiding the way.
After sometime of this soft relaxing floating, I get the nose clip. Now is underwater time. At Moments, feeling like a dolphin, eyes closed yet a deep blue surrounds me.
Then I am curled into a ball, and moved underwater like a baby in the womb. The sound of underwater, the warm touch holding me in mid water, really create the experience of being in the womb. Deep purple fills my mind, my essence. I become it, seeing nothing more.
Later when Roger will ask me how it was, my first words will be “rebirth”.
My breath seemed to slow down, felt like I could live underwater. Spinning, moved about, rolled around, flipped and let go, floating head down, almost like being dead.
It was hard to come out of the pool, even when the session was over. Such calmness, and a smile that just got glued on, felt very blissful.
This was a dance in the water. Roger leading, somewhat free form, intuitive, yet there are many techniques involved as well, a tango in which I get to surrender to Rogers lead.
I mounted my scooter, letting the wind blow my wet hair dry, caressing my body as I smiled towards the world with joy.
We leave the main house, a beautiful white structure, a bit Indian, but with some Guggenheim museum affects, and light blue trim.
We head down to the Watsu pool. On the way we pass the area that he uses for dance parties, one of his great hobbies. “Now I am trying to master tango”, he tells me. “I love it, but have some difficulty with the structure. I am more used to free form dancing”. I remember learning to dance salsa in Cuba, and for the first time had to learn to keep my torso steady, move my legs in the right form of steps. It was indeed difficult for me. My body wanted to melt into the music, flow with its own rhythm. I understood that it shall happen later, when the form becomes part of me, but did not have enough curiosity to stick with it. I think that what attracted me most to it, is the partner dancing, how close two people share space, moving closer and away, touching, and looking into each other creating a new harmony.
The pool is chemical free, with warm water, blue with all white around. The place has a clean and safe feeling, as white walls and a black fabric awning like those used for green houses, close the area.
Watsu is a treatment, like a massage or a healing treatment that is done in the water.
After Roger kindly explains all that I should expect, we are both in the water, and I surrender.
I float in his hands, letting him take me around. I close my eyes, diving inside. I feel the body move, twisting, legs held up, arching of the back. I am held close like a child or let loose and floating about. Always I feel secure with him guiding the way.
After sometime of this soft relaxing floating, I get the nose clip. Now is underwater time. At Moments, feeling like a dolphin, eyes closed yet a deep blue surrounds me.
Then I am curled into a ball, and moved underwater like a baby in the womb. The sound of underwater, the warm touch holding me in mid water, really create the experience of being in the womb. Deep purple fills my mind, my essence. I become it, seeing nothing more.
Later when Roger will ask me how it was, my first words will be “rebirth”.
My breath seemed to slow down, felt like I could live underwater. Spinning, moved about, rolled around, flipped and let go, floating head down, almost like being dead.
It was hard to come out of the pool, even when the session was over. Such calmness, and a smile that just got glued on, felt very blissful.
This was a dance in the water. Roger leading, somewhat free form, intuitive, yet there are many techniques involved as well, a tango in which I get to surrender to Rogers lead.
I mounted my scooter, letting the wind blow my wet hair dry, caressing my body as I smiled towards the world with joy.
Hot shower
It is the first hot shower I took in 4 weeks. The warm water is releasing my muscles, softening me, entering my body and melting me inside.
The drops hit the white marble floor, creating little puddles, waiting for them to grow so they can join the stream heading underground. Flowing to reunite with more of the same.
The water flows with no resistance. When hitting hair it goes around it, following the routes that are open. When enough water is there, it flows over the hair, not with aggression, but more with acceptance, just flowing in the direction that is naturally available for it.
Some drops fall into the empty clear bucket standing near my feet, making little sounds like that of a sewer overflowing with rain,
I did not miss the hot shower. It is hot in India, and the cold water stimulated the body, awakened it for new activity, new life.
But when it appeared, showering its warmth, like a mother, like a girlfriends kisses, it took me away, away from my thoughts into a land of constant flow, of streams uniting, connecting to a greater vessel, where the individual drops could not be separated any more.
Standing naked, I let the drops fall from my body. The knob turned to the right, keeps more water from running. I shake my body and use a clean towel to dry.
The sun is setting, and I am ready for a new day.
The drops hit the white marble floor, creating little puddles, waiting for them to grow so they can join the stream heading underground. Flowing to reunite with more of the same.
The water flows with no resistance. When hitting hair it goes around it, following the routes that are open. When enough water is there, it flows over the hair, not with aggression, but more with acceptance, just flowing in the direction that is naturally available for it.
Some drops fall into the empty clear bucket standing near my feet, making little sounds like that of a sewer overflowing with rain,
I did not miss the hot shower. It is hot in India, and the cold water stimulated the body, awakened it for new activity, new life.
But when it appeared, showering its warmth, like a mother, like a girlfriends kisses, it took me away, away from my thoughts into a land of constant flow, of streams uniting, connecting to a greater vessel, where the individual drops could not be separated any more.
Standing naked, I let the drops fall from my body. The knob turned to the right, keeps more water from running. I shake my body and use a clean towel to dry.
The sun is setting, and I am ready for a new day.
Gratitude
Gratitude is not about saying thank you. Not about words.
It is being grateful, being with the whole body mind and beyond.
Looking at the food, a sense of joy and appreciation arises.
The list of things and people to be grateful for is too long, it is a list of the mind.
Being grateful is a knowing, a meditation, and unity with all that is there for you.
Being humble, not taking anything for granted, not even the toilet you use or the bed you sleep in, bowing to your Yoga mat, to the earth you walk on, to a flower in bloom, accepting all the generosity around you and within you, is gratitude.
A thank You can be beautiful when the words used are transcended, where the intention of the heart and the look in the eyes are riding the words with a sweet energy, like a dolphin riding the waves, symbolizing more than what meets the eye or ear.
I bow before you all, my hands to my heart, and my heart to the world.
It is being grateful, being with the whole body mind and beyond.
Looking at the food, a sense of joy and appreciation arises.
The list of things and people to be grateful for is too long, it is a list of the mind.
Being grateful is a knowing, a meditation, and unity with all that is there for you.
Being humble, not taking anything for granted, not even the toilet you use or the bed you sleep in, bowing to your Yoga mat, to the earth you walk on, to a flower in bloom, accepting all the generosity around you and within you, is gratitude.
A thank You can be beautiful when the words used are transcended, where the intention of the heart and the look in the eyes are riding the words with a sweet energy, like a dolphin riding the waves, symbolizing more than what meets the eye or ear.
I bow before you all, my hands to my heart, and my heart to the world.
Goa, Yoga with Ralf and Marci and books
Sitting outside the shala (Yoga studio) with 15 other students. We are the second shift, the 8:00 am one. Next week we will be the third one as more students arrive.
The Yoga community increases here from December 15th, because of the holidays, but also because there is a migration of students that arrive from Mysore (The main Ashtanga shala) as they close till January 7th).
The morning drive on the scooter is beautiful, driving little streets between villages and palm trees, rice paddies, ponds reflecting the sunrise, cows, goats, dogs that chase with a loud bark and other students hurrying to get their spot.
“One more”, calls Ralf from inside. First come first practice. I enter, set my mat at the empty slot between 2 others that have started in the first shift and silently chant the invocation.
Students of all levels are practicing here, some indeed have super flexible bodies, some beautiful practices, but mostly, all are very dedicated.
It is a classic Goan house, hard dark maroon tiles, balconies (where we do the finishing poses in fresh air), hidden in lush nature of coconut and papaya trees, singing birds and crying crows, a blind dog and a dirt path lined with Honda scooters and the occasional Enfield (a classy British motorcycle with a sweet rolling engine sound).
Ralf has been living in Goa too many years to count. A German that looks more like a Hindu Sadhu, and Marci an American that joined him on this Journey much later.
They both are gifted teachers, and have taken me to places I never thought possible.
After practice is breaky time, as my dear friend Fiona would say. Sometimes it’s with other practitioners at a fun café (usually run by westerners that settled here), and other times, wanting some silence, I go home, cut a papaya and savor every bite. Fresh curd, a banana, at times a watermelon or some muesli, all are favorites.
Days go by here without any apparent destination. Writing, going to the Internet spot, meeting friends, going to a market or the beach, reading a lot and of course, eating. Eating indeed occupies so much time. Deciding where to go, ordering, the long wait for the food to arrive, and then the blissful chewing…
Just read an article that a college chef wrote about the long hours he works and not having really time to eat. Grabbing something while standing, chewing fast and getting ready for the next task. We say “the shoe maker walks barefoot”, but here indeed the cook does not go hungry. Much time and dedication are devoted to food.
Haruki Murakami’s “Kafka on the shore” is a highly recommended book I just finished reading (thank you Zohar). Any of his books really, but this one especially.
A journey of a 15 year old, that is like no other, honest, sensitive, crazy, fun, sexy…
Paul Auster’s “Leviathan” is another one I recently enjoyed, by the same author that wrote “smoke”, known as the movie with Harvey Keitel. This sends me back to life in America with lots of NY stories.
Last recommendation for this time is Lian Hearn’s great Japanese novel "Across the nightingale floor, first of a trilogy called “Tales of the Otori”. Couldn’t put it down. Indeed I am a big fan of all old tales about Japan, honor, love, rituals, and especially a certain way of thinking and acting. Placing all these in Japanese scenery, with some Ninja like powers, and I am happy.
The Yoga community increases here from December 15th, because of the holidays, but also because there is a migration of students that arrive from Mysore (The main Ashtanga shala) as they close till January 7th).
The morning drive on the scooter is beautiful, driving little streets between villages and palm trees, rice paddies, ponds reflecting the sunrise, cows, goats, dogs that chase with a loud bark and other students hurrying to get their spot.
“One more”, calls Ralf from inside. First come first practice. I enter, set my mat at the empty slot between 2 others that have started in the first shift and silently chant the invocation.
Students of all levels are practicing here, some indeed have super flexible bodies, some beautiful practices, but mostly, all are very dedicated.
It is a classic Goan house, hard dark maroon tiles, balconies (where we do the finishing poses in fresh air), hidden in lush nature of coconut and papaya trees, singing birds and crying crows, a blind dog and a dirt path lined with Honda scooters and the occasional Enfield (a classy British motorcycle with a sweet rolling engine sound).
Ralf has been living in Goa too many years to count. A German that looks more like a Hindu Sadhu, and Marci an American that joined him on this Journey much later.
They both are gifted teachers, and have taken me to places I never thought possible.
After practice is breaky time, as my dear friend Fiona would say. Sometimes it’s with other practitioners at a fun café (usually run by westerners that settled here), and other times, wanting some silence, I go home, cut a papaya and savor every bite. Fresh curd, a banana, at times a watermelon or some muesli, all are favorites.
Days go by here without any apparent destination. Writing, going to the Internet spot, meeting friends, going to a market or the beach, reading a lot and of course, eating. Eating indeed occupies so much time. Deciding where to go, ordering, the long wait for the food to arrive, and then the blissful chewing…
Just read an article that a college chef wrote about the long hours he works and not having really time to eat. Grabbing something while standing, chewing fast and getting ready for the next task. We say “the shoe maker walks barefoot”, but here indeed the cook does not go hungry. Much time and dedication are devoted to food.
Haruki Murakami’s “Kafka on the shore” is a highly recommended book I just finished reading (thank you Zohar). Any of his books really, but this one especially.
A journey of a 15 year old, that is like no other, honest, sensitive, crazy, fun, sexy…
Paul Auster’s “Leviathan” is another one I recently enjoyed, by the same author that wrote “smoke”, known as the movie with Harvey Keitel. This sends me back to life in America with lots of NY stories.
Last recommendation for this time is Lian Hearn’s great Japanese novel "Across the nightingale floor, first of a trilogy called “Tales of the Otori”. Couldn’t put it down. Indeed I am a big fan of all old tales about Japan, honor, love, rituals, and especially a certain way of thinking and acting. Placing all these in Japanese scenery, with some Ninja like powers, and I am happy.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Goa and blissful yoga wih Tim Miller
Left Pune on a night bus, a sleeper bus. A 12 hour bus with a single sleeper turned to 15 hours of sharing a tiny space (much smaller than a single bed) with an unknown Indian at the very end of the bus on the top sleeper.
Needless to say I was looking forward to Yoga the next day.
Arrived at Purple Valley retreat center in Goa to spend 2 weeks here with the great teacher, Tim Miller.
Morning practice, really great food, mostly by the talented Sayuri (A 32 year old Japanese girl that looks 16 at the most), some swimming in the beautiful swimming pool (yes, not really India here...), an afternoon class and great dinner. Lots of eating, some Indian food and some western.
It is really nice to have the balance.
Tim is a great teacher, knowledgeable and very compassionate. It is a gift to both practice with him, and meet him on a personal level, to learn from his wealth of wisdom.
Some days I get to use Ozge's scooter and go around Goa. So much fun to ride the little roads, through the palm trees, across the river and along the ocean. Indian scenes happen every moment, and at times I need to remind myself that this is all real. There is no movie set here, even though there is an international film festival going on.
Each beach with it's own character. hippies, yogi's, party goers, the packaged vacationers...
Indeed Goa is changing every day.
From the first time I arrived here in 1992, landed to a quiet postcard place, with cows eating pineapple peels and newspaper on the beach (they still do), some full moon parties and the smell of ganja. Through 2003 when parties were still going wild in Anjuna but Yoga was already hitting the beaches, to today, where Yoga is taking over, and the big party seen is quieting down.
Many more western restaurants around, more and more westerners that live here, and lots of people coming to practice Yoga here, and pay more than they would in the west.
Yoga is a special place, a meeting place. Land of plenty. Pineapples, papayas, coconuts, bananas, fish and lots of sand.
A place where Christianity (The Portuguese ruled here many years) meets Hinduism and blends together like a fine curry.
Curry and Lasagna share menus in peace, Russians, Israelis, American, British and Italians all share the same Shala (Yoga studio), and chant the sound of Ohm together.
Grateful to be here. Sending sunshine and gratitude in a curry of Love.
Needless to say I was looking forward to Yoga the next day.
Arrived at Purple Valley retreat center in Goa to spend 2 weeks here with the great teacher, Tim Miller.
Morning practice, really great food, mostly by the talented Sayuri (A 32 year old Japanese girl that looks 16 at the most), some swimming in the beautiful swimming pool (yes, not really India here...), an afternoon class and great dinner. Lots of eating, some Indian food and some western.
It is really nice to have the balance.
Tim is a great teacher, knowledgeable and very compassionate. It is a gift to both practice with him, and meet him on a personal level, to learn from his wealth of wisdom.
Some days I get to use Ozge's scooter and go around Goa. So much fun to ride the little roads, through the palm trees, across the river and along the ocean. Indian scenes happen every moment, and at times I need to remind myself that this is all real. There is no movie set here, even though there is an international film festival going on.
Each beach with it's own character. hippies, yogi's, party goers, the packaged vacationers...
Indeed Goa is changing every day.
From the first time I arrived here in 1992, landed to a quiet postcard place, with cows eating pineapple peels and newspaper on the beach (they still do), some full moon parties and the smell of ganja. Through 2003 when parties were still going wild in Anjuna but Yoga was already hitting the beaches, to today, where Yoga is taking over, and the big party seen is quieting down.
Many more western restaurants around, more and more westerners that live here, and lots of people coming to practice Yoga here, and pay more than they would in the west.
Yoga is a special place, a meeting place. Land of plenty. Pineapples, papayas, coconuts, bananas, fish and lots of sand.
A place where Christianity (The Portuguese ruled here many years) meets Hinduism and blends together like a fine curry.
Curry and Lasagna share menus in peace, Russians, Israelis, American, British and Italians all share the same Shala (Yoga studio), and chant the sound of Ohm together.
Grateful to be here. Sending sunshine and gratitude in a curry of Love.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Pune and food
Pune is always home for me. Maybe because Sassoon lives here, always so welcoming. We meet for food and long talks that no one could ever afford in the west (time wise that is…). A drink at home, then a walk, dinner at the famous Masala Dosa restaurant and then tea back home.
India, the land of papaya with lime every day, pineapple juice, little bananas, fantastic Thali’s and dosas.
The Thali’s are a meal served on a metal plate, with many little metal bowls, each holding a small amount of heaven. Dhal (lentils), sabji (vegetables), curd (sometimes with raw onion and cilantro), aloo (potatoes), and sometimes even a sweet, like gulab jamun (round dough balls in syrup), or carrot halva.
Masala Dosa is the famous southern dish. Paper-thin dough rolled and stuffed. The dosa can be up to half a meter long, usually stuffed with a potato curry. The dosa is served with coconut chutney, (coconut rules in the south!) and a spicy red sauce.
Keeping low profile, quiet nights and just being. Observing, In India I feel no pressure to accomplish, to meet deadlines or to prove anything. Just walking around, Rickshaws zoom by, fruit vendors say hello, a cow walks the streets, children playing cricket in the alley, a young girl washing dishes at a pump on the side of the street, eagles fly above, long tail, green parrots play on the trees of a school’s playground, millions of motorcycles with one, two or whole families on them, and people, everywhere you go, fascinating people.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Bombay, Osho's Ashram
Good friends,
Landed in Bombay at 2:00am, realizing that I have made no plans of where to go first. I walk outside to the nice cool air of Bombay night surrounded by the smells that define India.
After discussing with a taxi driver, I decide to start with Pune, a large city 4 hours from Bombay and the house of mister Iyengar and Osho (Rajneesh).
The driver tried to pull a trick of swapping a 1000 rupi bill with a 100 one. A few moments of talk and he agrees not to ask for extra 900...Got to start watching out in India...
A welcoming of Bollywood music in the taxi, and the chai stops along the way.
Pune has grown bigger, more people and more pollution.
Arriving at Osho's Ashram, (a day later with some extra hours of sleep), I smile at a little paradise. The Ashram, now more of a resort, or club meditation.... is beautifully created. Marble floors, lush tropic vegetation, little streams and ponds with flowing water, Buddha statues, Black structures, many pyramid like, and all people dressed in Maroon robes.
There is a Zen feel to the place, an oasis within India. A resort that has a huge meditation hall, a swimming pool, tennis courts, a book shop, and a huge white marble plateau, where many activities happen. Dance celebration every day, tai chi, Kyudo (Zen Archery), healing movements and more.
(Well, OK, its not a perfect place, but lets look on all the good points…)
I join the Kyudo classes, and the master asks me to practice with him later in the day without the class. I end up having 2 Kyudo practices a day, what a gift.
I enjoy the Osho, Kundalini meditation, Vipasana, and the evening gatherings, the white robe event.
The white robe gathering is amazing to see. Dusk arrives, and all are dressed in white robes. Walking towards the main mediation hall, which is a huge black pyramid, watching as the white dots walk the path surrounded by water, go up the black stairs and enter the huge structure. Inside there is a feeling of celebration, of prayer. I think the first time it seemed like a seen from a science fiction movie, or like a cult gathering, but now that I understand it, I see a huge celebration. Dancing as an appetizer, then some mediation followed by a screening of Osho's talk.
Walking into the quiet night, the moon never fails.
Landed in Bombay at 2:00am, realizing that I have made no plans of where to go first. I walk outside to the nice cool air of Bombay night surrounded by the smells that define India.
After discussing with a taxi driver, I decide to start with Pune, a large city 4 hours from Bombay and the house of mister Iyengar and Osho (Rajneesh).
The driver tried to pull a trick of swapping a 1000 rupi bill with a 100 one. A few moments of talk and he agrees not to ask for extra 900...Got to start watching out in India...
A welcoming of Bollywood music in the taxi, and the chai stops along the way.
Pune has grown bigger, more people and more pollution.
Arriving at Osho's Ashram, (a day later with some extra hours of sleep), I smile at a little paradise. The Ashram, now more of a resort, or club meditation.... is beautifully created. Marble floors, lush tropic vegetation, little streams and ponds with flowing water, Buddha statues, Black structures, many pyramid like, and all people dressed in Maroon robes.
There is a Zen feel to the place, an oasis within India. A resort that has a huge meditation hall, a swimming pool, tennis courts, a book shop, and a huge white marble plateau, where many activities happen. Dance celebration every day, tai chi, Kyudo (Zen Archery), healing movements and more.
(Well, OK, its not a perfect place, but lets look on all the good points…)
I join the Kyudo classes, and the master asks me to practice with him later in the day without the class. I end up having 2 Kyudo practices a day, what a gift.
I enjoy the Osho, Kundalini meditation, Vipasana, and the evening gatherings, the white robe event.
The white robe gathering is amazing to see. Dusk arrives, and all are dressed in white robes. Walking towards the main mediation hall, which is a huge black pyramid, watching as the white dots walk the path surrounded by water, go up the black stairs and enter the huge structure. Inside there is a feeling of celebration, of prayer. I think the first time it seemed like a seen from a science fiction movie, or like a cult gathering, but now that I understand it, I see a huge celebration. Dancing as an appetizer, then some mediation followed by a screening of Osho's talk.
Walking into the quiet night, the moon never fails.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Israel, Mom turns 70, family, friends, art and Yoga
6 weeks in the holy land. No, I do not believe there is such a thing as a holy land. All land is holy, and all land is only land, land that shares with us all its splendor. The land never asks who is it that lives by it. Never asks from where we are, and always gives without hesitation.
The blessing of being with close family and true friends, the blessing of having a mother turn 70, her eyes wide open to see life as it is, with all it’s beauty, an optimistic woman full of love.
A gathering of all the family creates energy much more powerful than individual encounters, a connected web of very different individuals sharing one love.
Rediscovering Israel; meeting friends, feeling a connectedness to people, a caring and honesty, as well as seeing the harsh side, the aggressiveness and the need to be right.
A land of contraries, beautiful souls that will give you all they can, help and be there for you, and man to man wolf just around the corner.
I want to mention the great dinner parties we had (thanks Galia, ), and all the amazing friends I met, but will keep the stories simple, and all you that I meet along the way, know that you are in my heart.
Israel is also a land of creation, so much art. Worked on a few different projects and met some beautiful people.
Of course I got to do a project with Polak along with Orly, working with a naked bed, a broom…and a naked soul, stripping off the mind, and diving deep into experience.
Got to shoot from behind a running motorcycle (thanks Shay) for a photo story about social justice.
I continued my human and food project, shooting with pomegranates, lettuce and Carps (Yes, the fish that is used much in Jewish cooking), all handled amazingly by Mia and Rotem.
Fortunately I met Maya Gross, a gifted Yoga teacher, and had the opportunity to deepen my practice. Waking at 4:30 am in Jerusalem so I could drive to Tel-Aviv to take her class in the Ashtanga tradition.
Spent some time in the Sinai desert, floating above the wonders of the red sea. Better than any art show I have ever seen. Nature, and that that is hidden underwater, is a splendor of color and forms, floating in silence surrounded by blue.
Last night in Israel, flight at 5:30am, I drive to Tel Aviv to spend a white night with friends in the lively city. 4:00am we leave for the airport, and the city is still awake.
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