Prague

I came back to her again. Kafka called her the city with claws and so here I am again when I thought I would be gone for longer. I am blessed to be here.

Winter

We had snow today for the first time...The sun peaked out for a moment. Im feeling better. I think I have the sensibility of an artist. I am easily affected, easily moved. I sometimes forget the beauty that is in everything, regardless of the situation or place or the time or the people. I thought I could manage living here. It had all the charm an artist looks for; The dark stone, the small winding street that leads you onto the next one, the beautiful women, the change of light, the beginning of a country lane, the old man whos face is timeless, the creaking doors,the trains that take you to interesting places, the jewish soul which wants to be redeemed. But something just did not stick, and I realized, I am meant for greater things, for the spiritual, the creative, and for community.

getting ready!!

Ive started packing my bags today. It sure feels good. If I dont here back from the school by the weekend, there is good chance Ill be on my way. Im so ready to go, but Im hanging in there for the school and they still owe me money. But even if I come out empty, the experience was worth it as I get my feet wet in ESL. I can manage a class and I have the confidence. The hardest part is planing a lesson when Im so ready to move on, but at the end of it Ive been here a little over a month and by the time I do leave it will be less than two months, and so this is not such a long time to have waisted. And I dont see this as a waist as It was a great experience.

Observations!

They play some good ballads here on the radio. I dont understand them, but I like the melody. Today I found out that Istanbul is a 39-hr train trip that costs two hundred dollars. The train goes to Brno, Budapest,Belgrade and than Istanbul. The receptionist thought I was crazy for asking, but I love to toy around with the idea. Im alone allot here, now I know what it feels like to be alone. its amusing because im such an outsider here, looking in. Sometimes I see a smiling face, usually someone young. The older men all have a pink blush on their faces. I guess its from the beer. I saw two old men sitting at a table next to me. They looked like brothers but they were friends. I said to them "Comrade" (friends) and they nodded in agreement, then again they could have been gay, who really cares anyway. I told a friend in the States that I miss being with Jews. He thought what does it matter who you are with. I told him I need a Jewish community I can tap into on occasions, keeps me grounded. Thats the thing that bothers me here, the things that keep me grounded are limited at best and sitting in a pub all night hovering over a beer is not grounding for me. But the women are beautiful, almost too good to be true, like candy you want to eat but you know you will find a cavity the next day. But who cares about cavities anyway when all you really want is a warm body to hug.

The body speaks the mind waits.

For some time my body has been speaking to me. Let me tell you what its been saying. "Get out of here" I thought this might be the tremors of whats called culture shock. But Ive been to Europe many times, and even lived there for a stint or two, so that argument wont fly. I tried to console my wordless body,telling him that he should chill out, relax enjoy the ride, maybe even find some-other body who will enjoy a ride. But, there was knocking at the door, at first faint and than with a pounding thrust and I had to listen and listen well. Sometimes its ok to throw the towel to be honest with oneself and make a decision, even though that decision will affect others for good or bad. Sometimes I need to stick with things and see them through, but here something was knocking really hard and I had to listen and act. And so I will be off again to another place. I am on a journey. In this journey, its ok to make mistakes. Its ok to change my mind. Its ok to say No, and Its ok to disappoint, because that is what makes a real and honest journey.

Clothes hanging on the wire.

The fluttering rhythm of clothes hanging on a wire makes me lose sense of time. I've seen this somewhere before in my past. Somewhere long ago there were journeys made to remote locations where the winds were strong. I once had lived in the heart of the West bank not far from a small village where their clothes would always be hanging. There was always the smell of dust, and diesel in the air. Stray dogs, skinny to the bone would gather in dark corners, their eyes would reflect the blinding light of a lone car coming their way. And now here sitting on a one track tram car that takes me into the heart of this land, I see the clothes fluttering in the wind, peacefully waiting for the hand of an old women to fold them into their place.

The egg store.

I walk by her shop once a week. The eggs tower over each-other in crates creating a small glimpse of her aged and well worn face. She smiles. They say she loves her eggs, that she knows them very well and will not hesitate to advise you of their quality and good position. I hope to photograph her one day as she stands there with her eggs and all the solid wisdom that came along with them.

A cup of tea.

What does it take to uproot and remove yourself from the comfort zones of your life, to really go into something unknown and unfamiliar. The first you feel is loss of control. You feel edgy, a little off balance, easily irritated,looking for solid ground. You venture out into open space thinking you might find refuge there. The birds there seem to draw you in more deeply than when you were at home. You notice the smiles of children and respond in kind, their mothers look back at you perplexed if not curious. Than there are the older ones who remind you of a gentle and warm past, where you sat under the shadow of trees in the hot summer evenings, sipping on your well pampered tea. But you were home than, or at least you thought. It was all so familiar, and you did not notice the birds nor the smiles of children. You were just there in the familiarity, and the warmth, and it was enough to carry you through, or at least till the next day. But here much of it is very familiar, and thats the hardest part, especially when im sitting in the late evening sipping away on a cup of tea.

An innocence.

The other day I saw a child helping his mother unload groceries from a crate. He was so eager and willing to help that he was much faster than his mother, who was handing him the items with a mechanical impulse. He was so willing and present to the task, and I thought, if only I could apply that same intention to my life. If only the diamond,pinpoint intention and most importantly, the willingness that was there, could be applied. It was beautiful and refreshing to see, and very hopeful and humbling to know that these forces are within us. They are apart of us,perhaps lost during some blind corner of our lives, but, they are there and quite natural to our being, and sometimes it takes a child to remind us.