I just got back from a few days break up North, en famille.

I learnt a big lesson last year, not to let ‘wars’ and worries stop these little family breaks happening, because in so many ways, life has to go on as usual. That was the ‘message’ I got last Summer, when we went up for a two day vacation.

This year, we went back to the same spot – with two married kids, their husbands, and even a grandson, BH. There was so much to be grateful for and about.

There were big, green trees, birds chirping, cats roaming, wind blowing, BBQ kebabs sizzling….

It was really nice.

==

And then, one of my SILs got a phone call that a good friend from his just got killed in Gaza.

His name was Avraham Azulai. He was 25 years old, married for just two months, and just last week, he was having a big chat with my SIL about his construction working. Yesterday, he got snipered whilst on his bulldozer, in Gaza.

The week before, he was almost killed by a sniper, but he had what he called ‘a miracle’. He told my SIL he was going to do a seuda hoda’ah to thank Hashem for saving his life.

My SIL went into a very strange, almost panicked mood, as it suddenly struck him just how fragile life really is.

For all of us.

One day you’re here, and the next day, maybe, you aren’t.

That’s very sobering.

==

The holiday continued, because it has to, and because life has to go on.

I went down to the seperate beach at the Kinneret, and I saw just how ‘low’ the water level is – probably the lowest I’ve ever seen it, which honestly makes no sense, as we had a fair bit of rain this winter, even if it wasn’t tons and tons.

I think the water is being ‘diverted’, perhaps to some of the new reservoirs that have sprouted up like a rash, with a ton next to the Jordan.

I have no idea what’s going on with it all, but it just ‘feels’ dodgy to me.

==

So, they moved the lifeguard post 100 metre down the shore, put up another 50 metre of ‘fencing’ between the men and women’s section, and carried on.

Yesterday evening, there were the biggest waves I’ve ever seen on the Kinneret.

Mamash, if felt like a windy Mediterranean Sea, not a calm, placid lake bordering Tiberius.

I was in a rubber ring, getting bounced and splashed all over the place – including a wave crashing right into my ear, which meant I could feel stuff sloshing around for a few hours after I left.

That’s when I noticed the boundary rope, buoyed down, and I grabbed hold of it.

And that’s when I started to ‘enjoy’ those waves way more again – because I was holding on to something secure and ‘grounded’, so I wasn’t being pummeled and pushed all over the place by the angry waves.

The analogy is obvious.

(Hopefully…)

==

Next day, we headed off to Tsfat.

My husband went to the Ari mikva located in the old cemetery of Tsfat – half of which had been burnt to a total crisp.

I asked a local what had happened. He told me some kids were playing with matches, a fire started, and then the fire brigade decided the best thing was to just let it burn right up to the perimeter of the Old City.

He saw the puzzled look on my face, so he reassured me.

It was a controlled burn. We get a lot of snakes in the Old City, now there is nowhere for them to come up from.

While most of the graves are on the right hand side of the cemetery, by the Ari and further over, the left hand still has burial caves with Hannah and her seven sons, and a few others.

I was kinda shocked, that the fire brigade decided to ‘control-burn-cremate’ that side of the cemetery.

==

Tov, the husband went to dunk, and I went to do some TKs in the old Ari Sephardi shul.

Since all these people started going missing in Tsfat – while the police do absolutely nothing at all to find them – I have kind of gone off that place.

I have come to the conclusion that there is some sort of really evil stuff going on up there, and that has been colouring my view of Tsfat for the last couple of years (also, because it was the biggest stronghold of Sabbateans from the 1700s on).

So I sat in a corner room in the Ari shul, reciting some TKS and trying to be inconspicuous, because someone was holding a barmitzah celebration there.

==

After a few minutes, a sephardi guy with a shiny, white ‘barmitzvah’ kippa starts motioning to me with his hand, to ‘come here’.

I thought he was trying to move me out of my spot, so I first ignored him.

But he didn’t take no for an answer. Next thing I know, he is walking over to me with a plate, and literally demanded that I take something to eat and drink – whatever you want!!! – from his kiddush, and make a blessing on it.

I can bless you without eating something…I tried to argue. He wasn’t having any of it.

It’s not me who is telling you to bless, the way you should, it’s HaKadosh Baruch Hu! he told me, with a very serious look on his face and pointing earnestly to the sky.

So, I caved, took a drink, speared a few bits of fancy beetroot, and made the blessing.

==

I realised, I really have to start looking for the good in people again, including people in Tsfat with shiny white kippahs who were so generous-hearted, they wanted a complete stranger to chow down on their kiddush.

I also realised, there is still so much ‘good’ to see.

But the lessons weren’t over yet, as the next stop was Meron.

==

Meron had a nice vibe, but was quite busy.

So, I left the inside bit of the tomb, and went to sit in the outside bit for women, under a big wooden pergola for shade.

It was much quieter. A grey cat was so soundly asleep on one of the wooden tables I thought maybe, it was dead. There was an old lady with a suitcase with her back to me, muttering something.

And then, there was an obese young women wearing tights pulled so tight, they were practically see-thru, and a see-thru shirt that showed her bra, with three small kids including one in a pushchair.

Urrggh, what is someone like that doing here?!

Was my first, unkind, thought.

Then, as I heard her on the phone planning her trip home that involved taking three small kids, by herself, on THREE separate buses…. I felt ashamed of myself, for judging her like that.

==

True, the clothing was awful

But probably even more true, this person had put way more effort into coming to Rashbi than I had, in my airconditioned car.

==

While I was pondering all this, doing some hitbodedut, the old muttering woman turned around, and started muttering in my direction.

I pantomimed I was praying, and couldn’t talk – which she correctly took to mean that I’m from Jerusalem.

Within two seconds, I realised she was bonkers, and that actually, it suited us both that she could just talk at me, without expecting a reply.

==

She began:

Who would think this war would continue like this, it hurts the heart.

I nodded.

You have to pray for Am Yisrael, you have to tell God how much it hurts the heart.

I nodded again. I started to think maybe, Eliyahu HaNavi had dressed up like an old, crazy sephardi granny who reminded me not a little of my own, late, crazy sephardi granny.

Then, she went off into crazyville:

You need to wear a different mitpachet, otherwise your face will turn black from the sun.

I nodded again – but this is when I realised she was actually bonkers.

And, you need to wear sunglasses, because sunlight is very bad for the eyes. That’s what the doctors told me.

(The opposite is actually true, but I just carried on nodding.)

==

You have a very good nose, you need to look after it, she said.

I was puzzled, but nodded again – it made her happy to have someone listening to her, I guess.

My daughter Chavi paid 6,000 to have lazer surgery to get a nose like yours. It’s a perfect nose! People pay 6,000 to get your nose, and you need to look after it, and keep it out of the sun!

==

OOKAYYY, then.

I let her talk on for another 10 minutes until she ran out of steam, then she turned her back to me again, and I went back to the Tziyon of Rashbi.

I thought to myself, she’s right, that I have to pray for Am Yisrael more, and I have to tell God how much this hurts the heart, what is going on.

I sat down – and I could feel a vale of tears a million miles wide in my soul, that’s been ‘blocking’ me from really engaging, really interacting with what is going on. It’s been too upsetting, all these people dying like this, all the corruption, all the lies being told.

In parts, it’s also been very scary and worrying.

And lastly – I have been feeling so much yeoush the last few weeks, about what me, you, or almost anyone can do to get this to change, to stop, to improve.

It’s been easier to ‘ignore’ it all, than to engage.

==

But up North, I got the message this holiday that there is ‘good’ ignoring, and ‘bad’ ignoring.

‘Bad’ ignoring is where I pretend that I am totally disinterested, life goes on, lalalalalala.

‘Good’ ignoring is where I still stay out of the news and all the pointless, soul-draining, speculation, as much as possible, whilst still telling God:

Tatty, this really hurts. Please make it stop.

‘Good’ ignoring is where I still take some time to go and learn a bit about Avraham Azulai, HYD, and the people who are one degree away from me, at least them, and to cry over them, and to tell God:

Tatty, this really hurts. Please make it stop.

==

There are 1,000 Avraham Azulai’s, and counting, in Israel.

Each one has a family, a ‘back story’, people who are mourning them.

This is such a difficult time, in so many ways, and one of the hardest aspects is that I can’t see dereck hateva how the Evils are ever going to stop this war.

There is no goal, no plan, no military objective, no end to the ‘terrorists’, no solution in sight.

Just more young people getting killed in more strange incidents, and ‘accidents’, while our politicians congratulate each other and nominate The Orange Fiend for peace prizes.

What peace?!

Really, what did I miss, what ‘peace’ is going on here?!

==

At the Rashbi, I cried, a little bit, for the first time in months.

There is still a way to go, until the ‘vale of tears’ can be properly traversed again, and I can really start to process all this stuff we are all going through. But I took it as a really good sign, because writers capture the zeitgeist of the society they belong to, and for the last two months, I have been unable to really process, or write, or pray from a place of engaging with what has been going on.

I’m someone who likes solutions, resolutions, clarity, action, plans.

And apart from banging on about the pidyonot, and saying TKS – I don’t have anything else to say, right now.

Except:

Tatty, this really hurts. Please make it stop.