A Decade Between

10 years ago today, I loaded up a motorcycle and a girl in my new black truck and drove across the country for a 6 month opportunity.

6 months became 12.

12 became 18.

And 18 became innumerable. The months stretched on, and the motorcycle and the relationship both ended at their respective crash sites. I found more… and I kept crashing those, too.

Today, and every year for weeks around this anniversary, I pay special attention to those memories. I reach out to the friends who said goodbye to me that day; tears spilling down to run over chapped lips in the Arizona desert sun. I remember the salt of it.

This year, I bought am loading another motorcycle in the same truck. Where the old bike was blue, things are now black and red. Where things were once shiny, they are now battered and bruised; no longer new… we have that in common. It seems to fit better. Today, I’m alone, but it’s probably better for adventures on days like this. Easier to dwell on things… to remember.

I remember the hours driving across the country. The tastes of new and strange food on our lips and tales of adventure in our mouths. I remember the columns of trees lining the roads, our silent witnesses as we slept in a farmhouse in Tennessee named for a particularly violent local family.

The trees in this part of Texas line the sides of the road as well. I drive the whole afternoon with all the windows open. No one’s hair to muss but mine. The trees and the miles take me back. I smell the forests, again.

Things are wet here. The splashes of color even carry moisture that the Arizona desert never could. Color only brought in rare moments, or from the denizens thereof. My mind spirals away unsafely from the road before me. To the orange juice of lost mornings. To the waterwheel and stone at the end of that long road… and farther still; to the zinfandel and lipstick at the beginning of it.

Days like today are important. They carry your past for you. You need not hold all of these decisions every moment for you would surely collapse. Days like this wait patiently, and they encircle you, taking you to a place of remembrance. Taking you to a place of worship and honoring the moments that built you.

There are so many things in the rear view. There is a reason that the word “reflection” can mean so many things. Today, among them is a new motorcycle. Hopefully with it, new promises. Maybe ones that I will keep this time.

 

Christmas Wishes

“OMG! I wish I could do that!”

Each time I have a conversation about the trip, this phrase comes at me. Often followed by “one day…” or “but, I could never…”

This year, since I am living everyone’s dream, I thought it would be ungrateful of me to ask for anything for Christmas. As such, I’m making up more of a ‘Hope’ list for you, my friends, than a “Wish” list for myself this holiday season.

To my magnificent friends,

I hope something you read will inspire you.

I hope you have the opportunity to fall asleep in someones lap.

I hope someone flashes you an American Smile.

I hope you stay out of the hospital.

I hope one person tells you they love you.

I hope someone kisses you on the cheek.

I hope you meet anyone as honest and true as my team.

I hope each of you wake up to a pair of sparkling eyes.

I hope that when you go looking for it, the Mistletoe finds you first.

I hope the only tears you cry are because you are laughing so hard.

I hope the next time you say “but, I could never…” you are filled the clear and certain knowledge that YOU REALLY CAN.

We are all capable of buying so much this holiday to show others what they are worth to us, but we can’t unwrap a whispered “I love you.” The few things that I want all of you to have this year are both free… and priceless.

Merry Christmas, kids.

Giving Thanks: 2010 Edition

This year, I am in Israel. A place I really never thought I would go. And now I am here… looking for some semblance of purpose.

This place is full of purpose.

The populace here is surrounded by problems. They live in the shadow of war and go shopping with assault rifles. They know people who have died and have friends in captivity. And they smile. They laugh and smile every day.

The cab driver that shuffled me home one evening said that when we have these huge problems, we can be truly appreciative of the other stuff; the parts that slip through the cracks: the way she raises her eyebrows when I talk to her, sometimes, like she hears me with her entire body; the silly moments at breakfast; a warm touch from a friend; inside jokes that bind us with secret emotions to our loved ones.

Spending this year as I have, owning nothing I can’t carry, and with friends for only days at a time, I like to think that I truly appreciate these things. I know that I crave them. I see my friends and loved one in my dreams. I smile when I remember these parts of my life that have formed me into what I am. Daily, I am struck by something that reminds me of how uniquely magical this life is.

I have relied on strangers for so much this year. I have no one with me, and I must ask directions, food, lodging, honesty, transport, and anything else I need to survive from complete strangers. Some of them remain that way, while others have truly touched my heart and become brilliant stars in my universe.

This year, I spend Thanksgiving on a military base, surrounded by kids with guns who all have stories of their own. Every place I go reminds me of how much I love the USA and how fortunate I am to have been born there.

I am thankful for American smiles, and all the doors they open.

I am eternally grateful for the memories I have that keep my heart warm in the cool and my mind focused on the goal and remind me that in order to have memories like this we must live everyday with purpose and love.

Hope: the belief that all this will lead to something even greater. The hope that I will create something great with my experiences and be able to give all that I have back to the world in some fashion.

Never take something for free. A very wise warrior told me this.

I try to go out of my way to tell everyone how thankful I am for their help. It is the people who enrich and affect my life daily that will help me to give back to the world around me. If I haven’t had the opportunity to take you by the hand and look you in the eye and express my thanks for the influence you have had on my life recently, then know that I am speaking to you now.

Thank you. Thank you for all that you do and all that you are and all that you have been to me.

In the USA, today is a day of Thanksgiving. Today, in this far off place, I give thanks to you; for you.

Voluntourism: Sar-El and the IDF

Gain by losing.

Let’s face it, we lose things every day. we lose socks in the laundry, money from our pockets and hours from our lives. What if by voluntarily giving up these things, in effect losing them, we could gain so much more in return?

I just lost three weeks in Israel. And in return, I gained amazing friends, new skills, and a pretty cool scar on my back. Ok, so maybe not everyone thinks the last one is cool. Story as follows…

Before this, Israel was never really high on my radar. Little did I know, with a little help from LLWorldTour.com, it was about to get a big upgrade. Lisa Lubin, the amazing woman from LL World Tour, wrote an article on Voluntourism. That was all I needed. I contacted Sar-El, the organization that coordinates volunteers for the IDF and bought a plane ticket.

I was warned that coming from Turkey and Morocco, I might be asked a few extra questions on my way into Israel. This is basically how it went.

Guard: Why are you coming to Israel?

Me: To volunteer with Sar-El.

Guard: Oh, cool. Do you know where they are putting you?

Me: Nope.

Guard: ok. have fun. *stamp*

Not much to it.

I skated through baggage claim, and met my contact Pamela in the terminal at Ben Gurion, and checked in. She told me a little bit about the program, I paid her the equivalent of $90 USD for my room and board for the two weeks we had agreed on, and wondered what to do with the next 6 hours until our bus left for the base I was to be stationed on: Beit Lid, a paratrooper base.

My first itinerary item was to find a cel phone chip; I have problems with payphones. This meant going into Tel-Aviv because there are no cel phone company stores left in Ben-Gurion airport. No sweat; this is fast and easy. Grab the train outside the arrivals terminal to HaShalom station for Azrieli Mall. It costs 14 sheckles and at least 50% of the populace speaks enough English to give you directions; never fear.

This was a mall like any other in the USA, aside from the fact that half the signs were written in Hebrew and half the 20 year olds were carrying assault rifles.

After some searching, I found the only company to sell pre-paid simcards is CellCom, and they hooked me up with a number.

Sunday evening approached and I returned to the airport to catch a bus with volunteers from around the world out to our base. Switzerland, New Zealand, Australia, Hungary, Canada, USA; people seemed to come from everywhere! On this bus we also got to meet our Madrichot, the IDF members assigned to help our merry band integrate  the IDF; Lee and Romi.

That night we loaded into our army barracks. My roommate Aaron was alternately obsessed with smelling his passport and overjoyed to finally be here for the event that he had spent so long waiting for. We chose our bunks from the metal framework and racked out.

Not everyone got such nice sleeping accommodations.

The following Monday morning, we arose and had our first-of-many flag raising ceremony, picked up our snappy new uniforms, and got to work.

The next first week was hot, sweaty, dirty, very rewarding work. We emptied old warehouses, tore things apart, painted, built shelving and organized all manner of military kit. That doesn’t mean we didn’t have fun doing it; far from it! We had a blast talking to soldiers, teachers, officers, logistics workers and each other. The officers Alon and Rami were brilliant; truly good men with great hearts. The logistics staff were hilarious, making sure we were well caffeinated and always smiling.

Every night our Madrichot had an activity for us following dinner. Often these were lectures, guest speakers, games, or activities with the soldiers. The hard work that went in to these evenings was apparent and I made sure to tell the organizers every night how much I appreciated to effort. I know that being in the military can be a thankless job sometimes, so it’s good to take the accolades where you can get them.

The meals are all provided on the base, and the food is great. The cooks there really put their hearts into it, and you can tell. Everything from humus to schnitzel and a million vegetables in between. When we were there, someone was rather fond of cucumbers.

The weekend for the volunteers starts on Thursday afternoon, when we all jump on a bus and head back to Tel Aviv for the weekend. On the weekend, the volunteers have the option of staying at an IDF hostel, Beit Oded, in the city free of charge. It is right next to the beach and a movie theater and provides rudimentary meals and housing for the volunteers. As opposed to the base, the food in Beit Oded is enough to keep you alive; little else. One thing they don’t tell you ahead of time is that everyone  who stays there has to clean up the bathrooms, rooms and everything before heading back to “work” the next Sunday morning. There is also a 12 midnight curfew. It is basic; you get what you pay for. It is exactly what you would expect of an Army hostel.

The second week, we were all a little more accustomed to the routine. The work was still hot and sweaty, but we were faster and more coordinated so it flew by. Ours was the first Sar-El group that the paratroopers at Beit-Lid had ever had and they weren’t quite sure what to do with us, so sometimes we found ourselves with nothing to do since we finished the days worth of work before the day was half over. The IDF officers didn’t want to work the volunteers too hard, but many of the volunteers came to do just that: work hard.

There was a good deal of self regulation among the group as a whole. The ones who tired quickly took more break time, leaving the ones who wanted to work… well, working.

Tuesday meant we took an entire day off from life in the service and put on civvies, civilian clothes, to go and visit a nearby city, Zichron, and see some of the history of the area and visit a refugee camp from WWII.

Not being Jewish myself, nearly everything I saw and heard was some form of revelation. I didn’t know about the origins of the language, the important events in the country’s history, or even important founding members of the government, so I constantly needed to be filled in by someone nearby.

One of the highlights of the week was a paratrooper named Lior. Not only was he just about the coolest soldier we met, but he showed us the workings of the m4 assault rifle, made us coffee and chai in a trench in a field over a small fire and under a starry sky.

At the end of the second week, I was supposed to be done with my initial commitment to Sar-El. That didn’t happen.

The sense of purpose and family I was developing with the people at the base and on my team was having a bonding effect. I wanted to stay and finish out the third week on the base with my group; each group only stays at a base for 3 weeks. I asked the Madrichot and the program coordinator if I could stick around and they quickly agreed I should stay.

Rarely in life is someone given the  truth of themselves. It engenders a strength, understanding, and humility that draws people like a magnet. Doron was one of these people. Doron spent a great many years in the IDF, eventually stepping back from the line to become a trainer for the next generation. We volunteers were beyond privileged to have met him while we were there, not once, but several times as he made special trips to come and speak to us.

The third week was (surprise) more sweaty dirty work. The logistics officers had become more accustomed to our pace and were finding all manner of jobs for us to do. Unfortunately, as I said before, they weren’t fully prepared for us and sometimes they didn’t have the gear we needed to safely and effectively perform the work, so we had to find something else to do; like Krav Maga.

One afternoon in the final week of our engagement with the IDF, our Madrichot told us we were going to take a field trip. We all piled on to a bus, with the usual assortment of machine guns and handbags. After several hours of beautiful terrain, Lior informed us that we had arrived at his Kibbutz.

A Kibbutz is something I had only read about, and even then, I thought they had ceased to exist some time ago. They are something of a socialist living agreement between the people there and they do all manner of things for one another. They had horses, chickens, cows, a factory, a dairy, cars, a pool, and schools. We cooked pita over an open fire and played guitar and ate until will into the night before we had to rock back to the base.

As luck would have it, the final night of our three week engagement at Beit-Lid would also be the first night of Hanuka. I personally had never seen anything Hanuka related outside of a store front or television program which meant I knew 0.1% of what was involved.

The Tsanchanim put on a giant Hanuka dinner and invited we volunteers to come and be a part of it. It was awesome! We had tons of food, people wouldn’t stop handing out presents, I heard a Hanuka song and prayer for the first time in my life; but not the last. Everyone was having so much fun it was hard to believe that it was such a religious event. Most religious things I had been to previously have been a little dry and heavy on the boring. This was anything but…

I even got to show off a short video I made to thank our hosts.

Eventually, the night had to end, and everyone went to work cleaning up and putting away the party we had enjoyed all night. Embraces, handshakes, and non-stop goodbyes ate up most of the late night hours and the next morning. I had to promise Alon at least a dozen times that I would come and stay with his family when I came back.

Finally retiring our brown uniforms and donning our civilian clothes for a final time, we hopped our last bus and ate up the miles back to the city and my last weekend with my friends in Tel Aviv.

There are times, when I am away from life as I know it, that I realize how truly fortunate I am to have nothing. In place of my own life, I get to pick up other peoples lives, their responsibilities at times, and carry them for a while to see how it feels.

Giving up my life as I have, I get these chances to walk a mile in a pair of shoes that I didn’t know existed. I have the true pleasure of working and playing with wonderful souls on every portion of this planet and it does nothing but enrich my life and allow me to feel closer to the world as a whole.

While we may not all be able to drop our lives in a storage locker and go, we can find opportunities like this closer to home with all manner of volunteering; I’ve helped at hospitals for children, animal shelters, with the Boy Scouts and even churches I am not affiliated with. We can even make the plan and leave home specifically to do something like this. These are ways that we can multiply the rewards we receive for or efforts. It’s worth the time; so take it, and lose it.