Municipal elections came and went, and what a ride! Participating in an Israeli campaign was the best thing I could have done. Simply put, I was forced into mingling with Hebrew speakers, and made a dozen or so new friends in the process. I can honestly say, NOW I feel as though I am home. Every other day brought a new Facebook friend request, and, much like my university days, my thoughts and opinions were welcome. If only our guy had won.......
The laundry has spread out, consuming my small bedroom. The advantage? You don't have to sweep your floors if you can't find them. My family grew accustomed to my devotion to the cause, and I daresay after years of home confinement, with babies and toddlers for companions, I am feeling that the home can run without me. Granted a bit dusty and cluttered, but home nonetheless. And for the first time in years, my children are okay flying solo through their days, without daily traumas and tribulations. While election day has passed, weekly protests take place in our town, advocating electoral reform. I am one of those pushing for national attention on the issue, which is at the forefront of many lives at the moment.
My activism was born from passion; our move to Israel was a step in a process that is all about passion. My personal goal in Israel is to leave it a little bit better than I found it. Perhaps that will come about through electoral reform. Perhaps it will be through encouraging others to speak out. It may not be for me to know just yet. When I moved to Israel in 2007, I slammed the door on my psychology career. How can one work in a speaking profession if one does not speak the language? For over five years I floundered, seeking my true purpose in having come to live 6,000 miles from the land of my birth. Amazing how one never knows what is around the corner. I never would have guessed a year ago that I would have been a writer and an activist today. Life is a gift, and full of excitement at that.
Living in a small country can be a lot of fun. When you yell, your voice covers a larger percentage of your country. Demanding the help of Knesset members, or getting their supporters good and angry when you write articles bashing them feels mighty powerful. Everything is smaller and therefore everyone knows each other rather well. Camping out in front of the prime minister's residence is rather commonplace here when national attention is warranted, even if it sometimes feels like the Wild West. I am often tempted to stop by the nearest saloon in search of a brawl when my frustrations get the best of me. More often it ends up being a coffee shop, affirming my status as a true Israeli.
The heavy rains still haven't come to bless us with our precious resource. We eagerly await our winter season, my recipes for rich, steaming soups and stews wait patiently in my kitchen cupboard, next to those for breads and muffins. Though the summer heat has finally broken, I await the chill a true autumn brings. The songs of the birds perched on my carob tree make my heart sing, and the simplicity of life is felt through their music. With the current state of relative peace in my country and in my home, I sigh a prayer of thanks, pushing aside the reality that a rocket fell in the south just this morning. Perhaps I am not unlike the birds, joyful in this land, singing to my heart's content.
The laundry has spread out, consuming my small bedroom. The advantage? You don't have to sweep your floors if you can't find them. My family grew accustomed to my devotion to the cause, and I daresay after years of home confinement, with babies and toddlers for companions, I am feeling that the home can run without me. Granted a bit dusty and cluttered, but home nonetheless. And for the first time in years, my children are okay flying solo through their days, without daily traumas and tribulations. While election day has passed, weekly protests take place in our town, advocating electoral reform. I am one of those pushing for national attention on the issue, which is at the forefront of many lives at the moment.
My activism was born from passion; our move to Israel was a step in a process that is all about passion. My personal goal in Israel is to leave it a little bit better than I found it. Perhaps that will come about through electoral reform. Perhaps it will be through encouraging others to speak out. It may not be for me to know just yet. When I moved to Israel in 2007, I slammed the door on my psychology career. How can one work in a speaking profession if one does not speak the language? For over five years I floundered, seeking my true purpose in having come to live 6,000 miles from the land of my birth. Amazing how one never knows what is around the corner. I never would have guessed a year ago that I would have been a writer and an activist today. Life is a gift, and full of excitement at that.
Living in a small country can be a lot of fun. When you yell, your voice covers a larger percentage of your country. Demanding the help of Knesset members, or getting their supporters good and angry when you write articles bashing them feels mighty powerful. Everything is smaller and therefore everyone knows each other rather well. Camping out in front of the prime minister's residence is rather commonplace here when national attention is warranted, even if it sometimes feels like the Wild West. I am often tempted to stop by the nearest saloon in search of a brawl when my frustrations get the best of me. More often it ends up being a coffee shop, affirming my status as a true Israeli.
The heavy rains still haven't come to bless us with our precious resource. We eagerly await our winter season, my recipes for rich, steaming soups and stews wait patiently in my kitchen cupboard, next to those for breads and muffins. Though the summer heat has finally broken, I await the chill a true autumn brings. The songs of the birds perched on my carob tree make my heart sing, and the simplicity of life is felt through their music. With the current state of relative peace in my country and in my home, I sigh a prayer of thanks, pushing aside the reality that a rocket fell in the south just this morning. Perhaps I am not unlike the birds, joyful in this land, singing to my heart's content.
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