Sambodhi

There is something about Holland....

 

When I was in school, the teacher asked us one day "how many seasons do we have in Israel"? All the kids raised their arms up in the air, what kind of a stupid question, 4, of course! This was how I learnt that in Israel there were only two seasons; summer and winter. Only since I moved to Europe I experience the full proper four seasons. Now it's spring and it's just gorgeous!!! The thing about Holland is that when the whether is good - it is the best!

 

I started this post three weeks ago. Since then we can forget about good weather. It's cold and I almost regret that I stored my winter clothes away. I didn't take any photos from this weather because it's just depressing. Well, to be honest; it's good for the garden. It's middle of May and I walk around with my coat on. I long for sunshine and for some warmth. The central heating is on. The forecast is still the same like today and like yesterday - cold. Luckily there other nice things in this season; like the tulips, and the fact that everything is super duper green. I know that if I was in Israel I would complain about the heat, so what is better? Here I can at list dream that it will become warmer and the summer is still a month a head, so for sure it's coming. Some people say the cooling is a result of the volcano. Who knows - maybe they are right. What is left for me at the moment is just hope.

Hephaistos (Athens and the unexpected Volcano in Iceland: Chapter 2)

 

Boy, did I get responds? Well, plenty, more then any blog I have ever posted so far. So all I can say is: "Hephaistos" (Thank you in greek). I guess that being stranded in a beautiful place like Athens is provoking some responds. As for now the forecast is still pessimistic about opening the airports and we are still stuck. Still watching the Acropolis and doing holidays things like long coffee breaks, strolling around, eating, more coffee breaks, strolling around, eating, etc.

I showed my partner the blog. Normally I don't, but since I mentioned him, I thought I should. Well, he looked a bit disappointed. For a whole week we are walking from one museum to another, witnessing the development of the Greek society from the Cyclades time 3200 BC, through the Mycenaean 1200 BC with the Trojan war in between and all these amazing evidences that have left behind, and all I could come up with was my impression from the street dogs in Athens. According to my partner there is a cultural connection between the early civilization like the Cycladic period here in Greece and the Dogon masks which were found in central Africa.

Here is his proof:

   
 

Above is a female figure from the Cycladic period and on the right is a Dogon mask. You can be the judge. 

According to now (Sunday evening) we still don't know if we fly. We are checking CNN every couple of hours. I met other guests in the hotel, also stranded and everybody has a nice story to tell. We are all in the same boat, so to say. At list we have a place to sleep and we are not waiting in the airport. What an adventure. I'm kind of amused from the situation (lucky me - just prolonged my holidays).

Since we are stranded my neck is strangled (or maybe it was the bad idea of sleeping on two pillows), so I checked today the hotel gym. What a joy. I haven't been moving so much (except for strolling around), so I put on my Ipod and jogged on the machine for some time. Then I did some stretching, and went to the sauna. Overall I feel a bit better but still stiff neck. If we are not flying To Amsterdam we fly to Rome and then with a train. I hope I can survive 24 hours. Last time I went with a train for a long distance was in my youth. So we see how that goes. End of report from Athens. To be continue if it will be interesting enough. Adio.

Athens and the unexpected Volcano in Iceland: Chapter 1

 

The plan was to be back in Amsterdam this evening. To arrive home, to unpack, to open a bottle of Auzo and sweets from Athens, to invite friends and to tell how great it all was, and how beautiful the Acropolis is, and how we could see it from our hotel and... how we can still see it at this very moment.

We tried to escape from Athens as soon as we heard that our flight was canceled. We booked a flight to Vienna and hoped to take the train from there. 15 hours. Who cares? It supposed to be an adventure. In the Taxi on the way to the airport I saw myself eating dinner in Vienna, (I could even see the cake).

And now? 

At the gate, after the security check, when everything was panic-ally packed into the suitcase, they told us politely that the Vienna airport was also close due to the eruption of the volcano in Iceland. We stood there in shock. We thought we were smart, able to take back some control of our life (after the Amsterdam flight was canceled), and here we are, back in position A, stranded in Athens till... some say 48 hours, but we heard already that the ashes from the eruption will affect flights in Europe for the next coming 6 month.

I can't really recall a similar event in my life where I got stuck somewhere (physically) and couldn't make a move. Of course I have plenty of events in which I couldn't change my situation from one reason or another and the answer was also to surrender as soon as possible. In the here and now I can't really complain. We went back to our lovely hotel where they were more then happy to receive us into our beautiful old room. So meanwhile we are stuck in the unknown. And since the future is not there to tell weather we flew back on Monday or not, and in the present I'm just writing this blog while my partner is having a glass of Vodka Martini, I can only talk about the past. For example the Acropolis hill which is right behind me, lighten up and giving it's beautiful shadow to this city for over 5000 years, is so impressive. 

Of course I'm impressed how old everything is and how detailed the museums are, but what stroke me the most in Athens are the dogs. On every corer there is a dog. They are sleeping on the pedestrians during the day and when it is getting cooler in the nights they are standing up. No body disturbs them and everybody is passing them by, with respect. Each dog seem to have a corner of it's liking even if it is on the most busiest and noisiest street. Here are some examples:

Doggi position number one really special

 Doggi position number two

 Close-up of Doggi position number two (notice the cigarette - maybe it was too much)

 Doggi position number three (yummy cool nice marble)

By the way these photos were taken in the Acropolis area, so these ain't no simple street dogs.

As you can see I'm highly impressed by the dogs. There are other things in Athens which I like but i keep it for the "to be continue part".

Adio

A Trip to Israel

 
 

MIchael Argov, "The Artist Table", oil on canvas, 1950.

I have taken a trip to Israel; to see the family, to get some sun and to look at some of my father's art work which I haven't touched before. It is not the easiest thing in the world to look at the work of someone who had died 28 years ago, and of whom I remember just as a little girl, sitting at his laps.

My father was a serious artist who struggled with recognition and with the search after colors, shapes and meaning. He moved in a systematic way from figurative painting into abstract. On the way he did some photography. Almost every decade he changed his style, so that it looked as it was done by another artist.

Going through his stuff I run into interviews, articles, letters, catalogs and many many old photos. I'm confronted of how rich he was and of how much I didn't know him. I'm honored to be his daughter and to have inherited his artistic talent. In one of his letters from 1974 he explains his work at the "Tel Hashomer" hospital in Tel-Aviv, where he designed a mural for the reeducation pavilion. "The problem was to create a space which gives a feelings of happiness and hope for the patients who are handicapped, having lost their limbs".  You see, we are talking about Israel, a country which is constantly suffering from war. So the hospital decides to put something nice, artistic for the uplift of it's residents. Mostly young people who had lost their limbs in the war.

My father was born in Vienna in 1920. In 1933, due to the upcoming events, his family left to Palestine.He grew up in Israel, studied art between 1942-1947 in the "Studia" of two "giants" in the Israeli art history, and in 1947, when the war in Europe was over, he went to Paris and stayed there till 1959, except of one year (47-48) where he came back to Israel to fight the independent war. Life in Paris was good. He was described as an upcoming star, participated in many shows and his paintings were bought. He lived a typical artist life. One room, toilette outside and in order to complete his income he had to work as a driver. From photos of that time I see my father as a young man, good looking, very proud of his success, nice women around (never the same woman in each photo).

 A photo of Paris taken by him.

In 1956 he came to Israel and met my mom. They got married after only one month and returned together to Paris. My sister was born in Paris and when she was 10 month old my mom took her to Israel and my father joined them few month later. The return to Israel was not easy for him after the softness of Paris and of being "only an artist." Being a family man and having other responsibilities changed also the style of his work. There was no more figurative paintings but strong, sharp shapes, influenced among other things by the bright sun and the roof tops of Tel-Aviv.

 A painting of my mom, oil on canvas, as she was seen by him in 1956. Private Collection

 

"Composition" oil on plywood, 1960, from the Haifa Museum Collection.

Towards the end the 60's he developed his "Geometric Style," of which he became very identified for.

In those years he started his "love affair" with architecture, and started to apply his work in buildings and murals (like the one mentioned earlier). He was well established as an artist, participating in many exhibitions around the world like New York, Copenhagen, Zurich and Geneva. In 1970 he exhibit in the Israeli Pavillion in the Venice Biennale.  The late 70's was his final search. I don't know if he knew that but in his work he came to a very high degree of minimalism, almost zen. He took a canvas, wrinkled it and sprayed it. Later he stretched it on a wooden frame so that the wrinkles were visible but you couldn't feel them. I remember him working in his studio on these paintings. He was always very patient when I asked questions and he seemed to love my interest. My favorite game was to lay down in those huge wooden boxes which were built to transport paintings to galleries and museums around the world. As a child I loved it that my father did something special and I loved to see him loving his work. But I guess  that his work also came first and for that we might have suffered. When I was born he was already 50 and went joking around saying that "I made my own grand-daughter." He was very sweet and loving with me. But for my sister and my brother he was more of an artist engaged in his work rather then a father.

The memory he left behind was of someone who loved his work. Going through his stuff is quite something since he created a lot. His search after expression in all kinds of forms is touching. 28 years later and he still can talk to me and radiating his presence from everything he touched. The way he looked at things from his photos and the way he felt things from his paintings. I feel lucky that by looking at his art I can still feel his love, and for that I'm forever grateful.

A vision for 2010

 It's already three weeks since the beginning of the new year and I'm still busy with creating a vision. I'm not sure how I would like this year to look like. This painting is from the 2nd of January. At that point I could only paint rather then write it down. It looks like an explosion.

Not too bad for a start of a vision.

Today, two weeks after the year had started, the snow is melting. It has been three weeks of snow and now it slowly disappears. It becomes muddy and slippery, reveals the ground underneath. Walt, our snow man is also melting and his scurf looks like he had gone jogging and is all sweating. Later on that evening, I'm sad to say, Walt lost his had. This morning, I found out, looking out the window, he also lost his legs.

For a moment it looks like the winter is over, but I know it's not true. My sister tells me on the phone that in Tel-Aviv it is 24 degrees. I can't imagine it even. Here the grass is ever so green and after the snow it is even greener. Strange, we some how expected it to look grey, like everything else around here. But green it is, and someone even says that we are going to have a spectacular spring. We'll see about that...

Like everybody else in Europe, I also become a bit winterly depressed. Like the rest I also don't get enough vitamin D, and like some Dutch people I go to sun studio to get some artificial light. It does improve the mood, I must say, (at list for the moment).

Some days later

Only few chunks of snow here and there, but most of the ground is revealed. I go on a bike ride with Jayesh. We go on the bike path in the dunes. Few pieces of ice and we loose our balance. It's amazing how Dutch people are doing it. You can see their bike marks on the ice. Courageous people. After being outside I have to eat a lot. I'm amazed to see how body uses so much energy in keeping itself warm. I eat so many times a day.

The days are passing by

I'm not able to write something that worth publishing. I'm a bit disappointed. I had high expectations from this blog. I thought I could publish a post every week. By now it's more then three weeks since my last post. Maybe the title of this post is too demaniding, maybe because I have not a vision yet, and this is what sits on the top of the page. As I'm sitting and writing these words it is snowing again. The last week I have been busy deep cleaning our house. It started as a communal action and I got so inspired so I did it in my office and in my private house. I found out it brought me so much energy and fun. I think my next post will be about cleaning and the art of meditation. Yes! That's it. By now I'll publish this one as it is. I admit it's not the best, but it's part of the process. Here is the song of Morcheeba, carrying this name.

Conclusion:

It is all part of the process. Deep cleaning and throwing things out help me to get in touch with myself, which helps me eventually to create a vision.

It's O.K. that this post is not perfect. The weather is changing all the time, and is also not perfect, and so am I. It is what it is.

It's snowing!!!

It's almost Christmas and it's snowing. Even for Dutch people it's special. After all, It doesn't snow here every year. 

I'm totally excited. I love the snow. I love the sound it makes when you walk on it, I love the cool air that surrounds it, the fact that it absorbs all the noises around. I find it perfect. If winter - let it be winter at it's max. I lay in bed and hear the wind and the snow falling, bit by bit, and I know that by the time I wake up in the morning it will all be snow.

 So, I take a walk

 And I look at things. I love to see what the sun makes together with the snow:

 

 
 And the lady snow that the neighbors had made:

 

And how the sea looks like:

And my feet: 

 And the Zen garden:

And the path:

I love to find the trace mark of cats and little birds feet on the snow. The same way the it absorbs the sounds, it shows who crossed where. Was it a car, a human being, big shoes or small shoes and who parked here over night and drifted off:

As I wrote before; I love the snow. Not that I want to go out for more then hour, nor do I want to be left in the fields. I'm thankful for having a warm house to hide in, which I can look out from it's windows, enjoying the beautiful sight. 

My Dutch boyfriend can say without even putting his nose out what kind of snow it is; weather it is "pak snow", that you can lift and keep in your hands, or a crispy snow like today, when the snow of yesterday is soft like a feather, covered with ice, and plays lovely reflections with the sun. Or wet snow, slippery and dangerous, like we had yesterday when we went to Alkmaar and had to watch our steps. The Eskimos have 30 different words to describe snow. My Norwegian friend tells me they also have many words for snow. 

I find it interesting how living here connects me with nature. I was born and raised in the city. Though I had the sea for a direct contact with nature and it's changes. As I grew up I learned to fall in love with concrete. Here, among the dunes of north Holland and the North Sea I acknowledge what an important part of my life takes nature. I know we are nature (what else?), and I know that surrendering to this fact makes me calmer. So I keep it as a regularity to go out. Even a walk of 30 minuted will do. 

  

What can you say about the winter?

 What can I say about the winter?

We are getting closer to christmas and the lights are all over the place. Delightful.

But first of all I have to say something about the comments that I get. It fills my heart with an enormous joy. When I started to write the blog, I didn't know really why I was doing it. It just felt so right, just to share whatever I feel like sharing. I got the idea to write a blog from a girlfriend and the next day I was on a plane and saw the movie Julie & Julia. It's a movie about a woman who writes a blog. I've always been a big fan of co-incidents and that was one I could not ignore. So I've started this blog. Then every time when I sit and write I'm filled with a great joy. This is also something not to be ignored. The last time I was finished writing a post, I clapped my hands happily and cried: "finished!" Then my boyfriend said: So, you want to be famous?" I said: "What the hell are you talking about, it's not true." Afterwards when I thought about it I came up with the conclusion why not? Is not bad to want to be famous. I already gave up my acting career many years ago. So why not to become famous by writing? No one is going to suffer from it? I already inspired two people to come up with their own blog. I only do good. Too bad he can't see that... but anyways my boyfriend is a unique creature with a unique point of view.

Ok. - back to the comments. It's really great to get comments. How else will I know that I managed to reach the wide world out there? Everyday I check the blog overview. Sometimes there are 0 viewers and sometimes 1 and sometimes 7 and sometimes more. I don't really have time to go deep into how people can reach my blog and so on. I only have one day off a week, the rest of the time I'm busy working creating world peace. (that's when I'm not busy fighting).

I saw in another blog that the writer referred to the comments he got with a big appreciation and with an explanation why he thought or felt it's better not to respond to them, but only taking them in. I must say that I could identify with him. It's a yummy feeling, and it's important to be able to receive and not immediately to answer. I learned it from receiving compliments. If someone had said to me: "Oh, you are looking so beautiful and this dress fits you so well". I immediately reacted: "Oh, you too, look so beautiful and this dress was so cheap, I bought it on sales." Now I've trained myself to say thank you, and smile gracefully. After all, why to deny? the dress is lovely, and I did spent a remarkable time to make myself look beautiful.

Now, the name of this post is "what can you say about winter?" and I haven't said much. So here it comes:

Today I went out and it's almost a freezing temperature. I became tiered very fast. It always shocks me that in this country you can actually die if you stay outside over night in the winter. Where I come from we spend most of the year outside, and you can almost die in July-August if you don't have an air-condition. I'm always amused to find out that I sleep with the same duvet all year round, and that it's not a big deal to store away winter clothes, because anyways I will wear most of them in the summer. I mostly think that European weather keeps people looking dignified, and I feel sorry to see business people in Tel-Aviv trying to look smart, wearing designed buttoned shirts, with a big round sweat marks under their arms.

The air these days is crispy crisp. In the mornings there is frost on the ground, and the leaves on the bushes are getting these little white icy hairs that you can break easily, and it gives a very nice feeling. I go outside shortly just to get this shocking cold air, and go back at once to our over-heated house.

Today when I went out, I looked at the naked trees. So exposed, I thought to myself. And then I thought: "What can you say about the winter"? That you want to sleep and wait till it's over? That your wishes list is ending up with a warm underwear, great hat and a pair of super gloves? 

The sheeps on the side of the road on the way to Castricum where sleeping in the field at 10 o'clock in the night. Some were still busy eating (frozen grass I suppose). I came out with a conclusion that wool is in fact a very good material for the Dutch winter.

 

My father - אבא

 

When I layed out some ideas for subjects to post about, I came out with a thought of a post about my father. My relationship with father had shaped my life like every relationship with parents shape anybody's life. The way they behaved with you as a child, the way the were, lived their life, shared themselves. The way they gave you space to be who you are. All these and more. My father died when I was twelve. I idealized him. The way he passed away had proved me how strong was our connection. To let go of him was and is a process of a life time. 

This picture above says a lot for me. I see two people in love with each other. My father was an artist, a painter. A man who woke up in the mornings and went to his studio to create. He made things like this:

 When I look at this painting I can see that both pictures mean the same.

I wish only to say: "Thankyou Aba."
  

WACHT!!! means wait

I finally got to know my rhythm. I go through the week, picking up ideas and impressions, and by the time the weekend comes I sit and write. I'm not longer stressed about it. 

Last week I took the bike and went to Alkmaar, the closest city, nine kilometers away. It took me one and half hour, forth and back. It was a beautiful autumn day; the sun was shining, just like in the photo. There was no wind and I was paddling happily, listening to Ekhart Tolle on my i-pod. I listen to him and his words are like music. And then I got to this train crossing, and the train was coming, so I had to wait. So I wait. I wait and look, I look and watch the train passing by. So fast! And it's so dramatic and so powerful and with this dreadful sound. And I say to myself: "wow! this is a great picture, I could put it in my blog and write a post about it."  The only this is that I have no camera. So I get a bit panicked, because I do have my camera ready these days for this exact purpose, I only forgot to take it with me today. My spirit is high at this moment so I don't panic for long. I keep riding my bike, thinking I should come back and take this photo another time soon, cause I know I'm going to write about this moment of waiting, just letting the train pass and everything around it is still; the cars, the bikes, myself. A friction in time where you stop and let something pass. And I have to think that it is a great metaphor to these very days where I feel discomfort feelings and there is nothing I can do about it except wait and let it pass. Exactly like I do right now. 

Inspired, I keep on going. In my back pack is a mandala that I got from Chandrika and I'm heading to the fancy frame shop to find a beautiful frame for it. And then it hit me, that I have my mobil phone with me and I could take some photos with it. Hura!!! I got to the shop, I choose a beautiful frame which I'll get in two weeks and I'm excited. I go back and I stop to take more photos of this beautiful autumn day...

 

 
BY the time I reach back to the train crossing, the bells are ringing, the light is changing to red and the beams are going down - it is all so meant to be. I blink with my phone camera several times. I have few good shots for sure. The train is passing, the beams are coming up, the light is turning green and I'm on my way home. The phone is ready in my pocket, so I stop on the way from Heiloo to take few more shots, just to show in what a beautiful neighborhood I live...  

 

Few days are passing by. I wait to the moment when I'll have some time to extract the photos and write the post. Funny enough I couldn't download the photos. This phone is so complicated and it was just impossible. I felt defeated. But strangely enough, when it comes to the blog, I just can't give up. When I couldn't find help to download the photos I took my bike again and rode towards the crossing point. 

That was definitely not a friendly day for bike riders. But I just went for it! All the way against the wind till I reached my point. And then I waited. 

This time I really waited. I waited for the train to come, but it never did. I waited there for quoter of an hour and nothing happened. I mean everything else happened. The cars crossed, the other bikers crossed, people crossed. Some of them looked strangely at me because I just stood there with the bike in my hands, waiting. Finally I decided to back off, knowing that I really tried. Anyways, I said to myself, this is not the same radiation like the other day when everything was in the right time and place; the sun, the train, the bike and me, and.... the phone camera. 

I took some photos, just in case, and went back determent to learn the complicated phone. Because for my blog - I'll do everything!

The moral of the story:

"Wacht" in Dutch means wait - which means that sometimes you really have to wait and take time in order the get things done the way you really like.

At the moment I learn few new things in my life; I learn to speak Dutch, to run a blog, and to understand my mobil phone. 

Autumn in Holland

Here in Holland the autumn is in its full letting-go activity. The trees are losing their leaves bit by bit and with no mercy. I go to sleep in the night, wake up in the morning and there are less leaves then yesterday. I can't help it; nature takes it's course. Day after day, week after week, the years are passing by. I find the leaves on the ground. What can I say - they are beautiful with all their reddish, yellowish, brownish colors.

I walk down the streets of our little village. I walk really slow. I try to feel my feet on the ground, and sink into my hips. I do that to feel more grounded and to win the over activity in my brain. As I walk so slow and quite, without any aim or goal, I find myself looking up at the top of trees.

My uncle died few days ago.

Somewhere I have heard that most people who are close to death, especially if they are old or sick, choose to die in the autumn. They will ask themselves weather they should survive another cycle. The winter is the hard one. If you make it through the winter, for sure you'll be able to make it through the spring with all it's aliveness, and the summer with it's joyfulness. But when the autumn comes you know you have to put more effort, more life energy.

He was 85 years old when he died. He lived a full life, with a loving family and a respectful career. I flew to Israel to see him a week before he died. To say goodbye. I took this opportunity as I missed it with both of my parents. 

My father died in the spring. That was my first acquaintance with death. I was only 12 years old and my life were shaped from that moment on, as the person whom I loved the most was no longer there. My mom died 24 years later. She was the rock in my life, and I still find it hard not to be able to call her.

I lit a candle for my uncle today. And it still flickers as write these words.

Death is a tricky thing. I woke up grumpy the morning after he died. I felt annoyed. Around lunch time I managed to cry. I felt I cry as I let go a part of me. The generation of my parents is slowly leaving the world and return to the ground. They leave the next generations to take care of things.

The generation of my parents lived during the second world war. Before my uncle died he went back to speak German, which was his mother tongue. I went back to live in Europe after they had to escape from it. I live here with the trust that by living here with my friends, borders of nations and religions are being dissolved.

I enjoy the autumn in Holland. In Israel the turning seasons are rapidly passing by and you can't really dive into them. Before you know it - it's winter, and when the spring comes, it is summer the next day. Here in Holland the autumn is beautiful and nature takes its time in changing. It is not very cold and it's nice and pleasant to walk outside and enjoy.

I wish my uncle will go into the light. Don't look back - just go straight where it's shining and bright. We'll take care of the rest. I promise.