The Desert Is Your Test

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This is what Ayelah said during our Peace, and Environmental Leadership Seminar (PELS) this morning.
A cute, curlie haired, small and athletic tel avivan with striking eye makeup.

The desert is your test. It is my test. It tests us.

There is nothing more vulnerable than living in the desert. It does not forgive. This i have found.

I have wore myself out to my bare bones. I have soaked all this in like a sponge, and am sitting here, full, exhausted. I have argued about the conflict, I have planned a project for youth environmental leadership during a seminar of Palestinian and Israeli youth, I have taught Dahn Yoga to my peers (they want me to teach a class every night! wow!), I have baked cakes for birthdays, I have read articles on environmental mediation and global warming, I have hiked through endless dunes of sand, I have run through hills in complete darkness, I have dove 20 meters beneath the sea in search of lionfish and moran eels, and I have taught small kibbutz children in Hebrew how to trot on a horse.

All in the unforgiving desert. It's honest here. It's hot here. Its hard here. But its so beautiful. As Amer, an amazing soul, born in Jordan but half Palestinain, said to me: The sprituality in the desert is unlike any other place in the world. It can change people.

We were all born in the desert. Muslims, Jews, Israelites, Palestinians... These are our roots, and this is where we have returned to search for, and create, peace.

This is not easy. We live in this small world on a kibbutz in the middle of sand and more sand. We speak english in public places (is that fair? its my first language- makes it so easy for me... why, as an american, do I always feel I have it so easy? That I am in the majority?). I wonder sometimes, do we focus too much on our similarities and not enough on our differences?

In our last PELS we discussed whether or not Non-middle easterners (Americans, Europeans, etc.) have a "right" to have an opinion on the conflict. After all, we don't live here. We don't experience this first hand. Ouch. Ouch. We spoke about this using a "talking stick"- a stick which someone holds when it is there turn to talk.

Michal, a dear housemate and friend from Jerusalem, reached out to the center of the circle for the talking stick, and said: "We need all the help we can get," and put the stick down. We clapped.

Timna. This past weekend a few of us took a trip down to Timna, an old mining sight and public park near Eilat. They municipality is planning to take the public land and make it into a ridiculous hotel. Soon there will be no public land. Soon there will be no prisitine desert. And so we will lobby.

A man from Elifaz, another kibbutz in the area, showed us around. He brought his wife, two kids, and dog. The children climbed the limestone and got dark stains from the sand and dirt below their eyes while their father talked to us about the plan to ruin the desert.

There is always a fight... but at least for the environment, we can all fight together.

In the desert, we are all being tested together.

And so, heart full and happy, I am going to take my body for a rest. The desert is testing me. I sweat, I itch, my skin has darkend, my eyes less sensitive to light. It is about time I breathe out.

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