From November 14 till November 22nd, while Operation Pillar of Defense was going on, I had the opportunity to apply my practice of mindfulness.
It wasn’t easy getting into gear. I was sluggish, tired and serenaded by rocketfire, alerts and text messages all arriving with their own agenda.
But, I knew that a calm interior allows for more effective behaviour.
and give the chance for the magic to work. Being mindful of the present moment and my participation within. So, with Tibetan singing bowl and pebbles, I started the day with calm.
Sometime later on, there’d be a chance for espresso and then a walk around the fields, watching and listening intently for sounds, all kinds of artillery or happily only birds and my own breathing. The view of the horizon was either pastoral fields, orange groves, fields, or the occasional spiral of smoke signalling warfare.
But, each step was a gift. I was alive. And the day beautiful, there for the enjoyment.
On our kibbutz, most members had fled for quieter territory (down south or to family members located far from the immediate, presumed zones of danger). Few people were to be seen.
But at night, solitude was truly felt. My partner, you see, was diligently at work, as the kibbutz night guard. This, he informed me, required him to drive out in his simple pickup truck close to the border with Gaza, into areas closer to rocketfall.
His job was to patrol the perimeters for the entire night, checking in with those stationed in our War Room, or lending a hand to anyone requiring assistance. One night he met a couple of anxious parents who had driven southward for an hour or so, searching for their son, a soldier stationed somewhere in our area. They had brought him a pizza, knowing he’d be hungry. Alas, they were forced to give up their search, and they offered that cold but glorious pizza to some other hungry soldiers.
Love yourself like you’d love a child.
So, I was home alone at night. No problem, I thought. I wasn’t afraid. But after 4 nights of burying myself under the duvet, I decided to try out the bed in our Safe Room. For the first time in my life, I’d actually considered the Safe Room an option.
It worked – I felt safer and although I woke up each morning curled up like a snail, I was alive and whole.
At dawn, my partner would walk in, and along with a kiss, he’d share the number of rocket landings for the night or any other pertinent news. Then he’d go rest for the morning hours.
It’s funny. People talk about relationships and how they grow stale over the years. They urge separate vacations or who knows what else. I don’t need a fix: I love him. I’m not looking for reasons to be separated; certainly not a war or attacks from rockets or mortars. How different it all would be if he were in bed beside me.
But alas, under war circumstances, it makes sense to be apart. Chances are that one of us will survive. Darwin, you hear?
Mindful of logic, mindful of circumstance, mindful of puppet therapy or music or facebook therapy. All these stimulants render the present moment shareable.
Present moment therapy. Especially in wartime.