It was a beautiful day. It had rained for a while before that, and the air was clean, and there were a few puddles here and there, but there was also sunlight and beautiful colors, and it was crisp and cool all around. Where we chose to go, there wasn't that much traffic, and so it was a pleasure to ride along the mountain roads, though there were cars here and there, and when we slowed down a bit, the more to appreciate the mountain scenery, we discovered that those drivers who were caught behind us were eager to get somewhere and had little patience for dallying. But that was no problem. We were in a good mood, and more than happy to drive off the road for a bit, so that anyone faster than us could get on with it.

After a relatively short ride, we found the Aminadav forest. And since that just happens to be the name of one of my grandchildren, it seemed like a good idea to take a walk there. Though the sun was still out, and giving a lot of color to the scenery, because of the mountain topography, we were often in the shade, and it was cooler there, and the colors were cooler too. You'll always find a slight bluish cast in the shadows. This can be corrected, of course, but it takes some doing.

It was such fun. We walked for more than an hour through the trees, and along a dry creek bed. There was a lot of wild Ivy around and the roots which hold on to tree branches and trunks made some interesting veils that were a pleasure to look at, and to look through as we gazed at the scenery.

I couldn't help thinking that though I take a walk almost every day, I don't really go out enough. For there are so many beautiful places not far from home that would be a pleasure to visit, and could provide fascinating walks that would be equal in exercise value, but so much more in the value of inspiration.

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It could very well be that we have the illusion that we have more time than we actually have. Sometimes we think of going somewhere that seems just ten minutes away, but as a result of the traffic it takes half an hour or an hour! And what difference does it make anyway? There are only so many hours in the day, and what difference does it make if we spend it on one thing or another? As Dylan sings in one of his immortal songs, "If I can save you any time, give it to me, and I'll keep it with mine".

It's my belief that the proper handling of time is no less important than a proper diet. That one should not push one's self when one is tired, and that we all need quite a be of time to assimilate what we've experienced, what we've learned and what we've felt, and that a healthy person must make time for that too. Free time doesn't have to be spent in meditation, devoid of all activity. It can be used for sport, or for amusement, or any number of things. I often have some of my finer revelations while taking a shower. My daughter says that she is able to think about things while driving her car. I've had the experience of reading a book, and finding myself far from the book and into my most private thoughts.

I have always set aside a goodly amount of time for thinking and contemplation. Nowadays, I also enjoy that sort of activity when I'm walking, which I do every day.

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the Artists House, outside

With works of art, paintings, drawings and photography, I have a similar problem. I am very attracted to visual art. But don't care much for museums. I don't like the rules. Don't like having to look at something intricate and deep, while standing up. Sometimes, there are works upon works, filling rooms and walls… and it is more than I can look at in a single day. I see two or three pictures; five pictures, ten pictures… and then I need some time to assimilate what I've seen, to think about it… to understand. Occasionally, I look at reproductions, but it isn't the same thing. The colors have changed, the dynamics of the picture. Even the size of a work of art is quite important. Sometimes, photographers aren't aware of this. They think you can give out the same picture as a postcard. Or blow up a fascinating picture that was close to perfect at 18x24 centimeters to the size of a wall, and it will be even better. But that isn't always true. Some pictures were made to be wall size. But each picture has the size that brings out its personality in just the right way.

the Artists House, inside

When I went to see the exhibition of paintings by Meir Appelfeld at the Artists House in Jerusalem, I was thinking of a previous series of his paintings that I had loved very much. I had been moved by his work; by the delicacy of his colors; by the solidity of the images… by the depth. It had been an experience like hiking to a mountain top. I had those images in my head as I went to this new exhibit.

painting by Meir Appelfeld

But this series was different. No less powerful. The colors were completely different. There was a series of still lifes. These included a few pictures that included his studio… with a peek out his window at the external environs. And a series of flowers in vases. And some landscapes of fields and gentle grounds. I was swept off my feet, as I stood before each picture, and swam into his world. Each image was completely new. Not because he had worked to make it seem so. It was new, the way that each time you turn your head in this world, you see something that is completely new, that is part of your world at this minute, but wasn't there just a minute ago, or an hour ago… or last year.

painting by Meir Appelfeld

There were moments there, when I was aware of the fact that he had used a knife to apply the paint, and others where I became conscious of his brush. But on the whole, I didn't think much of the technique, or the colors, or the shapes, just as listening to a violin play, I don't think of the finger pressed against the string on the fingerboard. He released me from all marginal considerations. The photos that I took, were not reproductions, but reminders that would help me as I returned to the memory of his art and contemplated it.

painting by Meir Appelfeld

It had been a great pleasure. And it is still with me. I'll have to go back and have another look.

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Is he blogging? Sitting at a café in downtown Jerusalem

The point was, that when you're lying on the beach, soaking up the sun and enjoying yourself, you feel no need to write it all down. And this is true on the personal level as well. If you're having a wonderful life, and all is going well, is there a need to write a journal and pour out your heart. As for myself, while not exceptionally happy, I seem to be quite busy. And so, though I do think of things all the time, that I'd like to share with my friends, I don't seem to find the time to sit down an write them down. I've tried to take advantage of technology in the past, dictating to a tape recorder and using the advantage of the blog, to give you just a taste… but it seems that nothing can take the place of sitting down and concentrating, and one needs a lot of determination for that.

in the middle of life, who wants to write about it?

Mead lived to age 77, and Levi-Strauss to 100. But both of them made their great discoveries when they were young, and had a great influence on the 20th century. Both of them studied many different disciplines, psychology, philosophy, education, and gender in order to better understand human beings.

my friend, Pesach. Why is he looking off? What is he contemplating?

Sometimes when sitting at a Café in town, I see people talking on the phone, or working on their laptops. I have a picture somewhere… I'll have to look for it, of two people sitting together at a table, and each one of them carrying on a conversation by cell phone with someone out of the picture. When sitting with a friend, I usually turn off my telephone, and don't put my computer on the table, but I enjoy watching others take advantage of these new toys. They fascinate me.

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Tziona blowing across her soup to cool it down a bit, at our soup fest in honor of the first serious rain in Jerusalem.

It got cold too. Usually, I don't mind the heat, no matter how hot it gets. I used to joke about it with my friends, when they asked me if the heat didn't bother me. I'd say I'm practicing up for hell. But the cold… that does get to me. It doesn't have to be very cold, and then no matter how much clothing I put on, it is still there with me. After a couple of days we started lighting the heater.

And in those same days, there were a couple of stories in the news that influenced me too. A story of man who was terribly provoked and lost all judgment and temperance, and did some things that he will be sorry for, no doubt, all his life. And another story, of a man who was fired from his job and killed off the whole family of his employer, including. I suppose that people who follow the news run into such stories all the time. But maybe because I don't watch the news so much in this period of my life… or maybe because these stories were exceptional in our little country, they had a strong effect on me, and added to this general sadness that overcame me.

Now that I'm feeling a little better, I can't help but wonder if I'm not being obsessively rational about this desire to know the reason why. What difference does it make, whether it was the rain and the dark days, or the cold, or the stories I heard at the same time? But there is that feeling too, that if I only knew what it was that was getting to me, I would be able to prevent it or curb its effect on me.

The rain passed, though the radio says it's on it's way back in a couple of days. The sun was out yesterday, and I took a walk in the center of town, with a friend of mine. We went to see an exhibition of some very beautiful paintings in the 'Artists House'. And then had coffee at an outdoor café. I watched a couple of guys working on laptops. It's getting warmer, and I'm feeling better.

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Walking around in the neighborhood, you see other walkers. Sometimes there are joggers, and some people run. The joggers and the runners are obviously exercising. The walkers may be exercising, but sometimes they are just taking a break, thinking things out, or having a private conversation with a friend. It's a common simple pleasure for young couples too.

children out for a walk

For some years now… maybe more than 20 years, I have gotten used to seeing people walk around with earphones on, connected to their stereo players, or the radio news. In the last few years, more and more people are seen talking; carrying on a conversation. When I was young, a sight such as this would have been evidence of insanity. A person talking to himself?! But now it only means that he or she is having a telephone conversation. It took some getting used to. This is all part of the technical evolution of human kind. I suppose that for the hard working business man, or a lover shopping for his beloved, there is a great advantage in the ability to call from anywhere to anywhere at any time, and make the connection. But there are disadvantages too, that claim their space right along with the advantages. How wonderful it is to take a walk and find quiet, whether it be in nature, or in the middle of the bustling city. You can let your thoughts go free, and connect with one another on automatic. Stream of consciousness. I have often found solutions to problems that have vexed or frustrated me, while walking, or while showering, and letting my thoughts run wild. And though it is nice that we can organize our own play list and listen to a continuous flow of songs that we like best… or turn on the radio in the middle of the shopping center and hear the type of news that most interests us… the fact that we are constantly exposed to the media, allows us less privacy. We have less and less time for our own private thoughts.

our very unusual synagogue

As I was walking through the neighborhood, I was thinking that every hour of the day has its own character and its own activity. I hadn't started out very early. I had had some things to take care of at the start of the day. The serious work force had already left for their jobs at the very beginning of the day. I try to avoid that time, because it is too intense. I don't want to find myself in the middle of a traffic jam. That has happened to me any number of times. When I used to have a lecture scheduled for the start of the day, at the college; 8:00 o'clock in the morning, I would leave my house at 6:30 just to avoid the traffic jam. I would arrive at ten to seven and then read a book till eight o'clock, and found this vastly better than the slow crawl on the freeway, as I and thousands of others made their way to work.

As I took my walk, I saw a group of students, dressed well, in suits and white shirts, waiting for the bus, but willing to hitch a ride if such an opportunity presented itself. There were grandmothers taking babies for a walk in a baby carriage; some businessmen hammering away at a business deal, and a few people opening the shops for the days commerce. This is the neighborhood that I have lived in for the last 35 years. It has changed a little, but not that much. I think that I have changed more than the neighborhood. There are certain oddities that I love. Like the wooden house that was built on top of a large stone apartment building, pictured at the start of this post. I enjoy watching little uncharacteristic additions sprout among the houses of this neighborhood; houses that were once very uniform.

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Bashan cows

It's strange. There's the smell of dust in the air; the dust that the rain is collecting and washing out of the air. One by one, I can see windows turn bright yellow, as people in the houses across the valley turn on the lights in rooms scattered across the neighborhood. Nechama, my lady cat watches paws on the sidewalk downstairs, peeking from behind bushes that line the sidewalk. My eyes are past them, fixed on the very depth of the picture as seen from our living room window.

cows in the fog

the sun is going down unseen. Just by the fading light do I know it. Hunters; they got a bad name in our generation, killing for sport… and when they were killing for furs it was even worse. But they had to develop patience and an ability to blend into nature; an understanding of the animal they were hunting, its habits and mentality. They had to hit the target the first time, because the prey knew he was there after the first shot. Those photographers who go off to Africa to shoot pictures of the same animals now, are not so different. But as for me, I prefer to study my immediate environment. It is always changing. As long as one stays truly awake, there is always something new to learn and observe.

cow on a glass bottle

this cow was embossed on a transparent glass bottle. Most of the time you could barely see it, but with the right light on it, or coming behind it, you could enjoy it. I don't know what the bottle held when it was first sold. Nowadays it contains water from the faucet, and sits in the refrigerator till it's brought to the table. On the table, cold from the refrigerator, drops of water have condensed from the humidity in the room, and are now part of the picture.

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I like to shoot inside without the use of flash. And I've gotten used to the fact that this type of photography usually us accompanied by some sort of color cast. But in recent months, many people I know have been buying a new type of bulb, that is something like a fluorescent tube, except that it screws into the socket made for an incandescent bulb. And though it looks okay to the eye, when you're in a room lit by such a light, I find that the lamps have a greenish cast, that is hard to get rid of by working with the photograph in a photo program. I remember, years ago, we used to use purple filters when shooting without flash in a room with fluorescent lights. But the fluorescent white balance was not able to help me so far. This is because the color changes with the distance from the lamp to the subject. But I intend to try a few different cameras, to see if I have some way to overcome the problem.

The photos here have all been 'corrected' as best as I could. But I still see the green cast. Do you see it? Does it bother you?

There is one way, of course, and that is to switch to black and white. Which I could do, because I like the monochrome. But I like color too, and it is hard for me to surrender to this new bulb, and not shoot color because of it. Another method to overcome the influence of the green cast is to shoot with the help of a flash. But in general, flash photography, if not in a studio, tends to flatten images.

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Here in Jerusalem, each neighborhood is like a self contained world. As a photographer, I used to do my own developing and printing, and spent many hours in a dark room, doing my work. When working with black and white, one can illuminate the room with a red light, because the papers are engineered so they're not affected by the color red. It is as if the room was pitch black even when you have the red light on. But color papers are sensitive to any light, and so you really have to work in the dark. Now that I've changed over to digital, I am able to work in a fully lighted room, with an open window, and I am more aware of the environment outside. As I write this, I'm sitting in the office of a customer, on the third floor of a building, and I hear children playing in the school yard across the way, and cars honking and moving and driving on the street below. I hear the bell of the elevator every time it stops on our floor. And see some tree tops through the window, and apartment houses across the park. There is a taxi station not far from where I'm sitting, down on the street, and I can hear people talking occasionally, or calling out to one another… sometimes even arguing. There is something very nice about city life, that I enjoy. And it is a lot more fun now, that I work on the computer, and not in the closed room of my lab.

Having a laptop, I have also gained much more mobility. I can take my work to a friend's house, or to a customer, and have everything I need in a small package.

Another advantage of living in the city, is that one can get just about anything one wants or needs within a very short period of time. I can eat Chinese if I feel like it, just by going down the street, or find a book that I just heard about from a friend.

The home is a very private space, engineered to satisfy the needs of the person, no matter whether he be in the city or the country or commune. That is his personal space. When I am in my home, it really doesn't matter that I am in the city, unless I want to order pizza at 11:00 pm. In order to thoroughly enjoy the city, you have to be outside. You can take a walk along the city streets, or go shopping in the shops (which I rarely do); visit interesting sites, or take some newcomer or visitor to see the sights. This is a very good way to know any place. Though sometimes it's embarrassing… if the visitor asks you about some landmark, and you don’t know anything of its history. It's not just that you're an idiot. Your also useless!

Today, for instance, as the shadows grew long, after I had already started this post… and even posted the first part of it, got together with a dear friend of mine, and we went shopping for ingredients. She did the shopping, and I saw the sights… and they were intoxicating. After all, some people have made it their profession to attract our attention, and yet it's all more gentle and beguiling than the advertisements we're occasionally exposed to. My eyes took the merry ride down the streets, past the neon signs, and to the products seductively presented on the market shelves…

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Rivka and Giddi

Those of us who have married, and have lived with a husband or wife for a number of years, know that the real difficulties only begin after that 'happily ever after'. How hard it is to share our life with another; to make the compromises needed for day to day coexistence. Each has his own vision of the relationship, and his or her expectations. And often, there are disappointments. If falling in love is blind, how difficult is the process of learning to see again. One question I've often wondered about, is just how close we should be to those we love. Should we spend as much time as possible with our mates? Sleep with them in the same bed? Or should we keep a little distance between ourselves, for the sake of mutual respect. I chanced across a blog post the other day, about sleeping together. The blogger had reached some conclusions very different from my own. But reading her thoughts on the subject, I thought about the fact that there is no 'right' way to do it. Everyone has to figure out what works for him.

Rivka

My daughter Rivka runs a kindergarten that operates according to the Montessori method. She and her partner, Kika, also offer course in 'family physics'. I'm not sure what that is, more than a system by which people can learn to live together in peace. She and I have had many differences along the way, and I have learned to appreciate her dedication and ability in preserving relationships, and making them work better.

kindergarten

Many of the people I have known, have problems, resentments, and bad memories connected with their parents. And many of the parents have difficulties with their grown up children, often because of expectations that aren't realized. Is it possible to overcome these problems, and have gratifying relationships with people that we have resented, and been angry with?

We usually get together once a week. We talk about the things that really matter to us. And speaking for myself, I've learned a lot from her. We're meeting today, and I'm looking forward to the meeting.

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And then there are fences meant to keep people from walking on the grass, and fences meant to mark property lines, and fences meant to keep children and adults from crossing streets where there are no crosswalks. And there are fences meant to protect passers by from construction sites.

I'm not sure what this fence was made to do. Probably to hide an unsightly industrial property. But maybe it was a construction sight. There are two industrial neighborhoods in Jerusalem, Talpioth and Givaat Shaul. Both of them contain factories and workshops. And since there are workers there, they also have restaurants and simple eateries, and shopping centers and stores. And because no one sleeps there in the middle of the night, there are some night clubs there too, so people can enjoy themselves as noisily as they care to, all the hours of the night.

I was there to visit some of my clients, when I noticed the fence. It was something of a sheet metal fence, that had been put up with posts in the ground, and had been painted in three colors. A few businessmen had put together some money to buy paints, and some students from the Bezalel Art Institute in our fair city had volunteered to decorate the fence. They painted some stick figures. It was on the very edge of graffiti. Minimalist in it's approach, somewhat humorous, and no question about it, it's art. You can see the set here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/shimonz/sets/72157622487099837/

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Well, the workman were here. They had modern tools that made a lot of noise as they cut through pipes, and broke the floor tiles, leaving neat dirt trails in the hallway and the toilet, where they will be able to check if the leak continues in a week's time. Nechama, the cat, didn't like anything about the repair, and left the house till it was over. Which was an opportunity for an unknown and anonymous gecko to extend his nose, and check out what was happening around here.

Interesting, the way the workman, the cat, and my friends were able to walk across that dirt line as if it didn't exist… and then I noticed, they were walking on air.

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Nechama last year:

On my way out, I noticed a little puddle in the hall of the condominium. It is often like that. How well is the first hint of disaster described by Camus in 'The Plague'. You have the feeling that all is not right, but you're not sure. Sometimes you avoid the thought of "what it could be", and sometimes you just hope it's something else. Perhaps the cleaning people left that puddle in their hurry to finish up work?

By the end of the week, the puddle having been cleaned and then having reappeared, it was obvious that I had a problem. A plumber was called. He checked here and there, and finally said that it might be a big job. It could be that this leak was related to the central heating, in which case it would be the responsibility of the entire building. But he thought it very possible that this was my problem. That is, a break down of some pipes in my apartment. In either case, it could mean breaking down walls and opening floors in order to find the cause of this leak.

Of course, even when it comes to disasters, there are better and worse; bigger and smaller. This was a minor disaster. Aside from the money it would cost to repair the damage, it would mean severe discomfort as walls and floors were excavated for the repair. There would be some time without peace and quiet.

backyard cats

And this new disaster reminds me of something I learned as I got older. When I was young, I thought 'normal' was easy going, coasting with inertia, good health, and a few coins in my pocket. I enjoyed a good adventure… and sometimes something would go wrong. I would get sick, or the car would break down, or friends would get sick or get thrown in jail… or I'd lose my way, or lose my address book. And when things got really complicated, I would start longing for normality. But somewhere, later down the line, I realized that life itself was full of ups and downs, and the point was to go with the motion. Like on a boat or a ship; you fight the motion and you get motion sickness. You have to learn to go with it.

Well, wish me luck. I think I've got another adventure ahead of me.

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But there is also the problem that among the artists there are those who have more to say, and those who want to be artists more than they want to say something. It reminds me of an old joke I heard many years ago. It comes as a question: How do you relate to a medical student who always had difficulty preparing his lessons, whose friends helped him during tests, who had to be given a second chance with a number of tests, and only had his thesis accepted after rewriting it, and begging his professor for 'consideration' so that he can graduate? The answer is: You call him doctor. The same thing is true for artists, and plumbers and auto mechanics. Some people are A students, and some just barely get through. But in the end, they're part of the profession.

I've always felt that the most important thing for me as an artist, is that I find satisfaction in my work. It can be very exciting, producing a piece of art. Compared to my own excitement and gratification from the work, the audience is secondary. I believe that art is a work of communication, whether it be a painting, poetry, photography or sculpture. But it is not always easy to find a sensitive audience. In many cases, the art finds its own audience. I have spent some hours on the Deviant Art platform. And have seen fine works of art, which received many comments like cool, far out, awesome, and so on. You could see that there were people there, who had seen the work and wanted to show their appreciation to the artist, but just couldn't think of what to say. And didn't have anything original to say. Do these words say anything? Should the artist be running around looking for an audience? And what sort of an audience is he looking for? Is it enough just to have someone, anyone, look at his work?

aching for life

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There was this picture of a woman waiting at a bus stop that I had posted earlier. When it got lost, it was hard to find.

woman at a bus stop, looking for coins in her pocket book

And there was this one, which I didn't find then, but I have found it now.

lonely in Sodom

Don't know if the problem had to influence me the way it did. But pictures are actually just as important as text for me. Sometimes even more important. And the problem had ruined the blogging for me. Now I've changed my system of posting pictures, and I figure it's worth another try.

The blog that I would like, would be an integration of pictures and words. Usually pictures speak of themselves. But sometimes, there a place for words too

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In the last few years, I've become more integrated into the world of internet and computers. I now have a portable that fits into my backpack, and I take it wherever I go. And that's important, because it is no longer comfortable for me to write with pen and paper. I used to love writing. I enjoyed the aesthetic of the line on the paper, and the very process of writing. I enjoyed handling the pen, and I had quite a good collection of pens. But with the coming of the computer, I found that there was one aspect of digital writing that outweighed all of the qualities of writing longhand or by typewriter. And that was memory. It made everything different. The knowledge that you correct, or change something that you had written with minimal work, just by rewriting a word or a phrase, made writing so much easier. I remember, back in the days of the typewriter, I would often rewrite a whole page because of a sentence I wanted to change. And many times, the correction of an article meant rewriting too. So as time went by, I found myself becoming dependent on the computer, till I reached the point where I just couldn't write without it. Some years back, I got a palm pilot, and used it as a miniature computer, including the writing of messages on it. The big advantage was that I could transfer a text to my computer at home, later on in the day. I had my calendar in it, and my phone book. It was a valuable tool. But it wasn't as comfortable to work with as a computer. Now that I have a very portable little one, I feel free once again. And mobile too.

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On three holidays, Passover, Pentecost, and Tabernacles, the children of Israel would come from all over the country to bring sacrifices to the temple. A great holiday was had by all. Even today, the city is filled with music and feasting and visitors who are welcomed with heartfelt joy. And no matter how thick the crowds, one feels the respect and sensitivity of each person to those around him.

For those who wish to see the whole set, see:
http://humanpicture.net/chagbrova/Pilgrimage_index.htm

those wishing to comment are welcome to write me at humpict@017.net.il

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(squill)

all that's needed
is a look around
quietly
with patience
and pleasure
in the minutes and hours
as they unfold
their intricate simplicity
in quiet

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I've done it before. Think I did it last year too. I think, well, I'll take a little walk with the camera, and record some of the booths in the neighborhood. But even though I've done it, and things don't change much from year to year, each time it is a very different experience, and exciting too… and there always is something new. Today was wonderful. The hardest part was that it got dark too early. I could have gone on and on. I was a little tired after about an hour and a half of walking through my neighborhood, meeting people, talking to kids, and checking out booths, but I was on a roll. I was high. It was a moving experience, and I loved it.

The holiday of Tabernacles is a very special and different one. Just as the summer comes to a close, and most civilized people are through with their vacations, and get back to real life, we move out of our homes, and spend a week in temporary booths made of material or raw boards and covered with leaves or branches, with the ability to see the stars through the roof. Sometimes it rains. Sometimes it's cold. If it rains you can go back to your house till the rain stops, but the holiday is definitely about getting out of the house, and camping. For those of us who live in the city, it's not so easy. Some of us build a booth on the balcony. Others build one right next to our apartments or houses. Ostensibly, we are meant to be reminded of what it was like, many years ago, to leave Egypt where we were slaves, and go off, inspired by the leadership of Moses, to the holy land. But our sages say, that this holiday is also a reminder that life can not be taken for granted, and that we have to be aware that all the pleasures and comforts of home are in fact part of something temporary, for our lives in this world are temporary. This holiday is the only one in which we are commanded to be happy. And I remember reading a very interesting article by a Chassidic rabbi, years ago, in which he pointed to this commandment as the hardest one he encountered in Judaism. It is one thing to fast on a fast day, or to eat on a feast… and it's not that hard to follow the precepts connected to other special days… but to be happy because you're supposed to?! That's hard. But not that hard, for the weak is filled with feasting and festivals, and the getting together of friends and family in a week long celebration.

We start building the booths after the day of atonement, which was on Monday. And the holiday of tabernacles starts this Friday night. As I walked through the neighborhood, a lot of people were still setting up their booth, and some had been started and weren't finished yet. The municipality spreads branches around the city in piles, every few blocks, so that people can take them and use them for the roofs. People who want something a little more stylish, buy date palms for a modest price. And then there are the 'four items' which are an important part of the ritual, and the prayer connected to this holiday. If I have an opportunity, I'll write about these 4 items later.

For now, let me finish with something I encountered for the first time today. I met two young brothers who were building a "children's booth". It was all in miniature, but it was meant just for children. And the children involved were quite excited and very enthusiastic in the preparations.

Anyone wishing to respond is welcome to write me at humpict@017.net.il

All are welcome to see my photography at:
http://www.humanpicture.net/

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downtown Jerusalem. this guy was trying to wake up those who were going about their lives as usual... you can miss out on all of life that way... the ram's horn brings to mind cosmic consciousness, life and death, the vastness of the ocean, and outer space... you put a little peep in one end, and out the other comes a roar that bashes through all open space.

Anyone wishing to respond is welcome to write me at humpict@017.net.il

All are welcome to see my photography at:
http://www.humanpicture.net/

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please accept my correction!

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The new year, among other things, is a time of repentance. And this is part of the soul searching that marks the new year, but it is also a very strange sort of occupation that raises curiosity and wonder. I remember so well, as a child, looking at an old man with a long white beard sitting in the corner of the synagogue, and pounding his chest in prayer, and wondering, what sort of unbecoming act or crime had the man done for which he was now repenting. As I grew older, and became a serious student, I asked my comrades and my teachers about this, and got all sorts of answers, and learned from my own experience as well, but I could say that this search for the other man's sin remains an open question in my mind.

We say in Hebrew, the reward for a good act is the opportunity to do another good act. This is my third post on the subject of the new year. The first one I didn't post at all. Because it was so sad and wretched, concerned as it was with what had gone on for the last year, and with a sort of emotional accounting regarding the year that had gone by, that in the end, I felt that it was too personal, and wouldn't help anyone else if I did post it. And might even make someone unhappy… And so I wrote the second post. And after writing that post, I went for a walk.

When I go for a walk by myself, I do some of my most serious thinking, and soul searching, and remembering. I have the sort of experiences, that I used to have only when I was taking a shower. Standing there, under the shower, with nothing much to do except an occasional soaping, I used to find inspiration. I used to find solutions to some of the hardest problems. It still happens in the shower, but now I also have those experiences when I'm taking a walk.

Well it was up the hill through the residential area, and then to the main Blvd, and past the Videomat and the supermarket to the first big intersection. Slowly I was getting lost in thought. And then, I was already on the way back, thinking to take the high road in that top neighborhood, when I hear music coming from one of those little commercial plazas along the Blvd. It was on the other side of the street. So I took my time, and patiently waited till there was no speeding car coming in my direction; crossed one side of the road to the island, and then went through the same process till I got to the other side of the boulevard, and there I found a whole lot of middle aged and elder people sitting around in comfortable chairs in the plaza, and listening to a Chassid talking to them in Russian, which is a language I don't understand, to my regret. But one of the musicians noticed me and said hi man, how's it going… without our knowing one another, so I sat down next to him and asked him how long it'd be till the music would start up again. He said, 'have no idea', man, 'I suppose he has to keep going till it comes outa him. But then after a while, the talking guy took a break and we had music again.

The music was just wonderful. It was a little more emotional than I would normally choose to hear, but it had a way of climbing into those high areas, those peaks where the air gets thin, and you have to breathe with the proper intention. There was a redheaded electric violinist, a trombone, and a keyboard, and the violin was leading. At first, I thought, what a strange thing to present the public with right before the New Year… After all, this is the time for repentance, and this was just intense sensory pleasure, as we all listened to the beautiful sounds wafting across the courtyard. But then I started thinking that it was more than just a little right for my own repentance. After all, wasn't it agreed that one of the good deeds that a Jew was supposed to work on was being happy? And it has been some time since I've been happy, truly happy with life itself, and with the little piece of it that I got as a gift from my creator. So I directed myself to this thought and found myself going up, up and higher and higher. By the time the musicians stopped playing, the music was still playing in my head.

And then another bearded man got up and started telling the audience about the advantages of going to the synagogue on a holiday. This time I was able to follow because he was talking in Yiddish, the language of my youth. I wouldn't say I agreed with every word, and I wouldn't say that I needed to hear that particular input… but it was okay, and it didn't get on my nerves before they gave the okay to the musicians to go back to scratching us behind the ears. Ah that was fine.

And a great new year to all of you too.

Anyone wishing to respond is welcome to write me at humpict@017.net.il

All are welcome to see my photography at:
http://www.humanpicture.net/

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Sometimes it takes a tsunami or a terrible earthquake to make one think about his place in this world; just how big he is, just how important he is compared to all the other creatures who share this planet with us. For some people, a good break, a windfall can do the same. All of a sudden, they pick up the tab at the local bar, and lift their glass to bless all creatures large or small.

It's a wonderful thing to be released for an instant from the all of the normal thoughts, all of the general preoccupations, all of the anxieties, and the little pains and irritations and ambitions and automatic behaviors and knee jerk reactions. For a moment, we grow expansive. We have patience for our fellows. We realize, we're all in the same boat, and we figure, why not do it well. For a moment we realize this is a one way trip, and in a matter of minutes it'll all be over, and what we leave behind us, is for the most part very insignificant. And so with a smile…

It is our tradition to do this once a year. Of course, for the more religious ones amongst us, it takes us a month to really get into the mood. We blow the ram's horn early in the morning, and the sound reminds us of tsunami, of earthquake, of God on high, and of the universe. You purse your lips and blow a little hum into the ram's horn, and it comes out the other side, the sound of the trumpet, and of the infinite in nature. And having gone around another time, we say: the hell with the curses of the old; Let us welcome the new year with a blessing, with something sweet, and with new fruit.

We direct our attention to the head, and away from the tail, and we celebrate the wondrous miracle of being alive in this world, and share our happiness and our wonder with our fellow man.

Happy New Year from Shimon

All are welcome to see my photography at:
http://www.humanpicture.net/

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So it's the middle of the night. After checking out what was on TV, and seeing there was nothing that would interest me, I put the new Bob Dylan movie on the disc player, No Direction Home, by Martin Scorsese and am watching the film. It sucks me back into the early 60s, and brings on a stream of nearly forgotten memories that fill me with late night inspiration. I've seen it before… but it is completely different the second time around, and it makes me think I should see it a few times.

For a couple of years now, after the heart attack, and after the expulsion of the jews from Gush Katif, I kept getting rid of all kinds of work I'd been doing. Stopped teaching. And basically, I thought it would give me a little time to work on some projects that I had saved and ready to work on. I have two films that I want to work on too…. One of them really looks like it has potential. But no matter what I got rid of, there's always something happening right now… and it is hard to get to the plans; to what I wanted to really do.

It was only last Friday that I finally assembled the DVD and the video in the new closet that I had bought about a year ago or more. The video had broken down and we took it to be fixed, and then when it came back, the programs didn't appear on the same TV channel that it had in the past. So I just put it aside and left it stay there for about a year. And now I really wanted to put the house in order. And on Friday I finally figured it out and programmed all of the channels so that I could record anything I wanted to on the video. And then, we assembled the new little closet we had ordered so that we could have the DVD and the video connected to the TV all the time, and ready to play. The unfortunate part of all of this is that I am finding fewer and fewer movies that really turn me on… but maybe I'll start going to the "third eye" again. They have a better choice; art movies, and more foreign stuff. I find that movies from the far east are more attractive to me these days. All of this seemed like more work than I really cared to do, but it felt good to have everything organized.

Watching this movie on Dylan, I am reminded of a whole lot of turns and learns that were part of my own experience of growing up in this world. When an artist tells the truth, everyone who sees it is able to relate to his own intimate experience. That is one of the most unique qualities of art. Everyone feels as if he is talking straight to them.

Anyone wishing to respond is welcome to write me at humpict@017.net.il
All are welcome to see my photography at:
http://www.humanpicture.net/

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Yesterday was the day when we mourn the destruction of the holy temple twice. And today is the anniversary of the expulsion of the Jews from Gush Katif last year, and I remember myself sitting in front of the TV set in horror for days and watching the Jews forced out of their homes, and getting on buses that would take them away, and afterwards the homes destroyed with bulldozers, and synagogues and libraries and schools. Now the whole country is suffering, just as we thought and warned because we knew that this would be a great encouragement for our enemy. The bleeding hearts among us, the leftist optimists told us that the Arabs would build sky scrapers where our brothers and sisters had evacuated and would continue to garden vegetables and flowers like the Jews had done. But it didn't work that way and soon they were using the now newly occupied villages to sent rockets at the innocent people in the Negev cities. It happened so fast.

The rockets are coming down. I haven't done any photography for about a month. In Hebrew, we say, the muses grow silent when the canon roars. It's like a giant depression. Some of us help others; some of us keep on with their work. But no matter what we do, the war creeps into our consciousness and weighs heavy on our hearts.

Anyone wishing to respond is welcome to write me at humpict@017.net.il
All are welcome to see my photography at:
http://www.humanpicture.net/

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In a letter to the editor of the Berlin left-wing daily Die Tageszeitung (TAZ) a Lebanese Shia explains how after Israel's withdrawal from South Lebanon, Hezbollah stored rockets in bunkers in his town and built a school and residence over it.

I lived until 2002 in a small southern village near Mardshajund that is inhabited by a majority of Shias like me. After Israel left Lebanon, it did not take long for Hezbollah to have its say in other towns. Received as successful resistance fighters and armed to the teeth, they stored rockets in bunkers in our town as well. The social work of the Party of God consisted of building a school and a residence over these bunkers! A local sheikh explained to me laughing that the Jews would lose in any event because the rockets would either be fired at them or if they attacked the rockets depots, they would be condemned by world opinion on account of the dead civilians. These people do not care about the Lebanese population, they use them as shields, and, once dead, as propaganda. As long as they continue existing there, there will be no tranquility and peace.

Dr. Mounir Herzallah

Berlin-Wedding

(translated from the German by David Ouellette)

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I understand that you are upset by us, about Israel. Indeed, it appears that you are quite upset, even angry. (Outraged?) Indeed, every few years you seem to become upset by us. Today, it is the "brutal repression of the Palestinians"; yesterday it was Lebanon; before that it was the bombing of the nuclear reactor in Baghdad and the Yom Kippur War and the Sinai Campaign. It appears that Jews who triumph and who, therefore, live, upset you most extraordinarily.

Of course, dear world, long before there was an Israel, we - the Jewish People - upset you. We upset a German people who elected Hitler and upset an Austrian people who cheered his entry into Vienna and we upset a whole slew of Slavic nations - Poles, Slovaks, Lithuanians, Ukrainians, Russians, Hungarians and Romanians. And we go back a long, long way in the history of world upset. We Upset the Cossacks of Chmielnicki who massacred tens of thousands of us in 1648-49; we upset the Crusaders who, on their way to liberate the Holy Land, were so upset at Jews that they slaughtered untold numbers of us.

For centuries, we upset a Roman Catholic Church that did its best to define our relationship through inquisitions, and we upset the arch-enemy of the Church, Martin Luther, who, in his call to burn the synagogues and the Jews Within them, showed an admirable Christian ecumenical spirit.

And it is because we became so upset over upsetting you, dear world, that we decided to leave you - in a manner of speaking - and establish a Jewish State. The reasoning was that living in close contact with you, as resident-strangers in the various countries that comprise you, we upset you, irritate you and disturb you. What better notion, then, than to leave you (and thus love you) - and have you love us and so, we decided to come home - home to the same land we were driven out 1,900 years earlier by a Roman World that, apparently, we also upset.

Alas, dear world, it appears that you are hard to please. Having left you and your pogroms and inquisitions and crusades and holocausts, having taken our leave of the general world to live alone in our own little state, we continue to upset you. You are upset that we repress the poor Palestinians. You are deeply angered over the fact that we do not give up the lands of 1967, which are clearly the obstacle to peace in the Middle East.

Moscow is upset and Washington is upset. The "radical" Arabs are upset and the gentle Egyptian moderates are upset. Well, dear world, consider the reaction of a normal Jew from Israel. In 1920 and 1921 and 1929, there were no territories of 1967 to impede peace between Jews and Arabs. Indeed, there was no Jewish State to upset anybody. Nevertheless, the same oppressed and repressed Palestinians slaughtered tens of Jews in Jerusalem, Jaffa, Safed and Hebron. Indeed, 67 Jews were slaughtered one day in Hebron in 1929.

Dear world, why did the Arabs - the Palestinians - massacre 67 Jews in one Day in 1929? Could it have been their anger over Israeli aggression in 1967? And why were 510 Jewish men, women and children slaughtered in Arab riots between 1936-39? Was it because Arabs were upset over 1967? And when you, dear world, proposed a UN Partition Plan in 1947 that would have created a "Palestinian State" alongside a tiny Israel and the Arabs cried "no" and went to war and killed 6,000 Jews - was that "upset" caused by the aggression of 1967? And, by the way, dear world, why did we not hear your cry of "upset" then?

The poor Palestinians who today kill Jews with explosives and firebombs and stones are part of the same people who - when they had all the territories they now demand be given to them for their state - attempted to drive the Jewish state into the sea. The same twisted faces, the same hate, the same cry of "itbach-al-yahud" (Massacre the Jew!) that we hear and see today, were seen and heard then. The same people, the same dream - destroy Israel.

What they failed to do yesterday, they dream of today, but we should not "repress" them. Dear world, you stood by during the holocaust and you stood by in 1948 as seven states launched a war that the Arab League proudly compared to the Mongol massacres. You stood by in 1967 as Nasser, wildly cheered by wild mobs in every Arab capital in the world, vowed to drive the Jews into the sea. And you would stand by tomorrow if Israel were facing extinction. And since we know that the Arabs-Palestinians dream daily of that extinction, we will do everything possible to remain alive in our own land.

If that bothers you, dear world, well - think of how many times in the past you bothered us. In any event, dear world, if you are bothered by us, here is one Jew who could not care less.

www.zalmi.net

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Anyone wishing to respond is welcome to write me at humpict@gmail.com

All are welcome to see my photography at:
http://www.humanpicture.net/

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