Yisrael - Part II
My people come from all walks of life, all traveling because of one reason:
We miss Home, We have been away far too long, We hear the calling to return
Return home to the Home that is rightfully ours.
Return home to the Home the Wind bestowed upon our ancestors.
Return home because it is everyone’s Home.
And yet.
As I re-read this poem I wrote after my first visit to Israel, I am met with the realization that my relationship with my homeland has changed. The Zionist within me fell in love ideologically with the State of Israel after my first visit. I remember feeling mesmerized as I gazed out my window from my tour bus as my group traveled through the rolling hills in the north to the desolate valleys in the south. I remember feeling inspired as I traveled to historical sites that were significant to my people’s history, and I remember feeling reminded of a higher force whenever a small coincidence, or perhaps a small miracle, would happen. But I also remember a sense of longing I had … a sense of longing that I had a deeper understanding of the people and culture that make this land more than just a land and more than just any people.
Last week marked my seventh trip to Israel. With each of my return visits to Israel, I uncover a different aspect of the country, the culture, and the people. My respect, love, and admiration only intensifies each time. Since my first trip, I have returned many times to Israel as an Israel advocate, wanting to understand the political landscape and situation both internationally but also domestically. What is needed from the Israeli and Palestinian leadership right now? What does it mean to be a Jewish State? Together, this lust for the land and interest for the politics have fulfilled my ideological Zionist identity. Now, however, I must nurture my love for the people—to become one of these people.
I have decided that I will move to Israel after I graduate in the spring of 2017 in the pursuit of my first full-time work position. After returning to Madrid earlier this week, my friends have graciously and curiously asked me why and how I made this decision. With each friend I share this with, I am continuously met with a lack of words. I have so many thoughts and feelings and emotions in my mind and yet the most grave disconnect between my mind and mouth exist, leaving me challenged to express and convey something so integral to my being.
It’s the people.
It’s the life.
It’s the challenge.
I have only one life to live, and I want to make the most of this life I have on earth. In this very moment, as I write this blog entry, I am also the oldest and wisest I will ever be, determined to make the best decisions possible. To move and live in Israel will be a challenge like none other that I have faced before. To move and live in Israel will also be a meaningful experience like none other I have learned from before. I will be challenged in that I will be out of my element, immersing myself into a totally new culture of people. Life is simpler there, more direct, more centered on the core and not the peripheral. Relationships run deep, where friends soon become family. People are connected to one another and care about the larger picture much greater than just themselves.
But it’s also the complexity.
One of the highlights I experienced last week was a day-trip I took to Tel Aviv, where I met with various mentors and friends currently living in Israel to really understand their story. How did they find themselves in Israel? What were their first obstacles and roadblocks like? What needs to be changed in society? These are just a handful of the many thought-provoking questions I asked during my many enlightening conversations. Really, we just talked about life. Goals, impacts, visions for the future. Each conversation left me feeling more confused, unsure not of my decision to live in Israel but rather unsure of what I want to impact in Israel. What change will I make? I realized that yes, Israel is a country that exists for people around the world to come to when in need of help. But as someone pointed out to me a few months ago, Israel also needs people who can help. I want to help.
Four months ago, I found the journal I kept from my first trip to Israel. After taking out the hundreds of papers and documents from my file cabinet, I finally found my black leather notebook that held the many pages of thoughts I shared, all enclosed in a strap with a flowered buckle. Flipping through the pages, I was reminded of thoughts, conversations, and realizations I had that have since been buried in memory. In particular, while reading, a quote resonated with me that was said to me by a young woman I met at an archaeological dig site. Like all of my encounters with individuals who have decided to live in Israel, I asked her why she made Aliyah. She told me that she would rather plant her own tree in Israel than someone else plant one for her.
I am up for the challenge to plant my own tree in Israel. I will bring with me seeds that have been with me all along, seeds that form my current self-identity and have been shaped by the personal and professional experiences I have had to this day. This tree will mature and blossom through the water that is already in Israel, water that will be composed of the experiences that await me into finding more meaning and impact.