Remembering Another Time Brings Focus to Now

  This photo is of what I called my "pink rocks" in the lumpy ridge formation easily seen from Devil's Gulch Road in Estes Park, which is where I accessed trails back in the fall and winter of 1999. I'm reminded that I used those rocks as a point of strength on days when I was alone and lonely, missing friends in Tennessee (though mostly Chattanooga friends since that had been my home for the previous ten years).

Especially before I found the Estes Park Centering Prayer group and for the first months I centered with them, I often saw or spoke with no one I knew. I sought community in the small Episcopal Church and one woman became a friend. I was in a much more vulnerable place, and the rector made certain that I knew that he couldn't be of much help. It wasn't the church, but the centering prayer group that provided the spiritual sustenance I needed.

I'm recalling those days this morning as I'm allowing grief--more than expected--to swell from inside as I miss the mountains, friends, and St. John's, my home church in Boulder. I also remember that St. John's didn't become my home church immediately upon stepping foot inside the building as it has for some. It helps put my feelings in perspective.

I realized over the weekend that my flurry of activity--rushing from one talk or concert to another, while providing intellectual stimulation and nourishment for my soul, and reading the pile of reserved books that became available near the same time, had kept my feelings of loneliness and loss at bay. Since years of experience has shown that feeling the pain is the way through to the other side, and my coffee date this afternoon was cancelled, I'm allowing those feeling to hold sway.

Gratitude, my daily practice, is supported by remembering those other times, feeling gratitude for the good in the midst of pain. Mike and Margaret are coming for dinner tomorrow night. It's a quick in and out when they come since week nights are best for them, but always so good to have them here.

For years on Sundays, 3 of 4 wasn't unusual, I had duties either in the service or afterward. There were certainly mornings when it seemed heavy, but most times I felt blessed to be part of the St. John's community serving in that way. As I recall other churches, I've generally found ways to serve before I felt at home. I don't know that this will happen here, and I'm not ready yet. My postponed coffee this afternoon was to include a conversation about the possibility of joining the healing prayer ministry at the Cathedral. Since today I have no clarity about calls, it's good not to have that conversation.

                                                            Radnor Lake's Cove Trail

I have plans for a walk, though it may turn into coffee/tea since rain is predicted, with a possible spiritual friend, also a newcomer to the Cathedral, on Wednesday afternoon and look forward to getting to know her. An acquaintance from Boulder days, who moved to the suburbs with her husband this summer, and I have a long-planned coffee date on Thursday, halfway between our homes. She's often an "it's wonderful" person so I'll look for my happy hat before I leave for that drive.

My Saturday guided hike was cancelled, and I joined a group of six who were also headed for that hike at another trail. I trailed them--literally--for the 4.5 miles on the steepest up and down trail in our local parks in this area. I'm definitely out of shape, but was able to catch up when they stopped for water or to let everyone gather. Our time was slightly over an hour and one half!!! While that equates about 20 minutes per mile and my preferred faster time is 25 minutes per mile, I would need to hike at that pace for 7 - 10 + miles in order to do some of the meet-up hikes at state parks away from here with the younger hikers, and I would love to hike several of those trails. I'm hoping to meet some older folks who are hikers at the Tennessee Trails Monthly Meeting I plan to attend next week.

We continue to have some color on the trees in the city. The photo below is from my window toward the Vanderbilt Campus. The misty rain has moved in while I was writing. If it doesn't get harder, I'll walk in the neighborhood or on campus this afternoon. The color really pops in this weather.

I continue to have much gratitude for my place here and always for my health. A Chattanooga friend has been told that even if the next round of chemo is effective, she can expect more tumors--and she is about fifteen years younger. I hold gratitude and loss together on this fall day.

Peace and blessings

Exploring the Nashville/Tennessee Parks

This beautiful waterfall, one of several in the Rock Island State Park, is about the same driving time away from my home in central Nashville as from my home in Colorado to the Bear Lake or Glacier Gorge trailheads in RMNP. It's farther, of course, as the narrow roads are only for the last ten or so miles. I went there a week ago Sunday with a meet-up group that, because of forecasted rain, dwindled from 16 to 9 people. A light misty rain began only as we were close to the end of our last trail.

I learned that many of the exciting and beautiful Tennessee hikes in parks and natural areas explore canyons and gulches packed with slippery wet rocks and several creek crossings. My boots held up well on this one! Behind and around me below are the rocks at the bottom of this riverbed canyon. It doesn't show the cliff ledges on the left that we had to scramble up and walk on to get there and back again! Three, sometimes four of the much younger folks, hiked back with me, partly to enjoy the scenery, and on the skinny ledges, to be sure I wasn't left in the lurch! While they began to see that I didn't need the assistance they offered (but took it a couple of times), I was sometimes slower. We all laughed about the man who was the supposed leader. If he hadn't been wearing a red shirt, we wouldn't have seen him through the trees far ahead.

 Closer to home, as I mentioned in an earlier post, Radnor Lake provides an array of trails, some for an easy stroll and others with more up and down. The trail I've enjoyed most was developed after I left the area. The deer and I were alone on much of that trail the first couple of times I took it.

The leaves are falling, opening patches to see the vistas in the distance while other spots are still too dense to see through the trees. Next Saturday I'm scheduled for a hike that has some bushwacking in an area of the Warner Parks where one can only go with a naturalist. There should be views of the hills around and through that part of the park. A newer area will open in the spring though the steeper trails may be only naturalist led.

I've found a local-only walker friend who may become a hiker as far as our parks go, good company but nothing that will keep me in shape so far, and am still looking for a hiking group with older folks who do some of the interesting and challenging trails away that I shouldn't do alone. With shorter daylight and the driving time to do several of those hikes, I understand the need for a faster pace than I might be happy with--or able to do comfortably. Spring will be my time for those hikes. And I understand that in March-April-May, there are many wildflowers too!

I'm joining the Tennessee Trails Association and plan to drive to REI in Brentwood (near Mike and Margaret's) for their November meeting with the hope that will connect me with some hikers nearer my speed. And tomorrow, when the rain is supposed to dissipate and the clouds roll away, I'll continue hiking nearby. I do remember that I didn't find my long-time hiking companions in Estes Park immediately upon moving there. Patience, patience, patience.

Nashville -- Settled!!! (Somewhat!)

The sun made a splash over the city this morning as I awoke early to make it up one flight to the laundry room by 6:30, the reputed opening time.  A woman had already loaded five machine and a sixth was out of order.  Fortunately two remained.  Just what I needed.  I discovered that this woman does laundry for others and was doing a month's laundry for a client!  And I expected to be there alone.  The machines do have a delicate setting and the dryers adjust heating too although I was coached on which ones dry the best, which was not my issue this morning.  I walked back to 17, my floor, and made coffee while the laundry swished through its cycles.

Red in the morning, sailors warning is an old saying I had forgotten while in Colorado as it didn't seem to have anything to do with the weather or rain.  Not so today.  I took the photo below as it rained briefly this morning.  After lunch I continued with my plan to walk two blocks to the credit union to see if I could get access to the funds I deposited last week (success!) and on to Fido's, the coffee and lunch spot where I'm currently seated as it rains and rains.  My internet and TV service are scheduled for connection a week from today.  

This evening's plans, to attend Shakespeare in the Park and see Henry V looks as if it is a plan to be scuttled!  Perhaps Sunday evening's performance will be dryer.  

This week I've taken a couple of morning breaks to walk/hike.  One morning I scoped out the newly opened Harpeth Greenway, walking about five miles--some of it lovely, some a way to get around an area.  Most of the Greenway around Nashville's perimeter has been completed.  Quite an accomplishment.  This lovely butterfly seemed oblivious to my camera.

For unknown reasons, I cannot upload the butterfly.  Sorry.

Another morning I headed to my favorite park, Radnor Lake.  While this one is closer, the traffic was such that it also took about 30 minutes to get there, not quite so long returning.  I knew the city traffic was back in this area, but it is heavier than expected with the various university's students and the city residents.

At Radnor Lake I felt at home in a way that I hadn't experienced since returning to this city where my children grew up and where I worked both at Vanderbilt Medical School and the TN Department of Economic and Community Development.  It was a feeling that any photo could not capture--the feel of the air, the smells, the soft path and farther into the park, the rocky climb to Ganier Ridge.  The deer and fawn with spots still obvious (and not visible in my photos) almost posed.

I am looking forward to writing in my new spots, the table writing and art section, about ready for use.

The rain has quieted though still coming down, but think I should head back, hoping for enough time of respite from the blowing rain to hurry two blocks to my new home.

More soon!

   

The Israel Experience -- Bedouins, the Negev, Mitzpe Ramon Crater and Eilat

     An amazing trip, our experiences ran into each other.  Walking down the Jerusalem sidewalk to the Tower of David Museum for the Night Spectacular Light Show was much like walking in any city.  The Spectacular, using 3-D technology with a name that means "deceiving the eye," projected onto the Tower's walks, walls and turrets the history--Greek, Roman, Crusader, Ottoman--with life-like soldiers on horses, with armor, people hiding, and then breaking into song.  Our guide said that she had been a member of the children's choir whose voices were used in the drama.  Walking back through the old city, I stopped with other women in a couple of shops--art and skin care, different only in that Dead Sea skin care products were featured and prayer shawls and Jewish art was on display.

     We were reminded by Dena, our guide, and anyone else who had an opportunity that Israel wasn't an aggressor, but was protecting herself.  Their neighbors didn't want them to exist so self-protection was essential.  She told of two narrow escapes, barely missing buses that were blown to bits a few blocks later.  No buses had been bombed since the wall was built.  She was sorry that some Palestinians had difficulties, but Israel needed the wall for protection.  With her experiences, it wasn't hard to understand her point of view.  I mentioned the second guide in the tunnel and his more extreme view.  Our driver was the most even in his attitude.  Members of the family who hosted the Shabbat dinner who had or were serving in the military were proud of their service, but didn't speak so stridently of Israel's choices of protection.  The two speakers at Independence Hall were not only proud of their country and its heritage, but vehement about Israel's need for protection and the prejudice of the international press.  Our Druze host was proud that their Arabic-speaking young people serve in the Israeli military in greater numbers than most other groups.  I was struck by the pride of Israeli Military service.  Our former Californian guide at the Bio Bee Kibbutz was proud of her military service too.  It echoed the feelings of those Americans who fought in our World Wars I and II--fighting as righteous warriors against evil aggressors.    

     I visited with my massage therapist in the Mizpe Ha-Yamim Hotel.  She, too, expressed vexation with the news media.  From Detroit, she was an Israeli citizen but visited relatives in the US.  She was more sympathetic with the difficulties of the Palestinians but like others, felt that what Israel was doing was self-preservation.

      The bus drove us from one interesting spot to another, often stopping only long enough for a vignette.  There are a few more stops that merit mention.  Before our arrival at the International Dance Village, I wondered why it was on our agenda--and learned, after expressing my delight at the inspiring dance performance we saw, that it was one of the several stops on our agenda that had been a guess--this a lucky one.  First we observed a class session where some of the movements we saw in performance were taught.  Instead of eating lunch in their cafeteria, Simone and I walked through the village, enjoying the park-like spaces and walking down through an area of cottages where it appeared that students lived.  We were told that the dancers come from all over the world.

     Had we needed to hire a driver to take us to the Sea of Galilee, we might have missed one of the most inspiring of our stops--the Rebecca Sieff Hospital in Safed, also known as the Ziv Hospital, treating patients from the Upper Galilee and the northern Golan.  The tour agenda said "Emergency Medical Services in Times of War."  The folks above were sitting in the hospital's courtyard.  One of few Israeli hospitals that treats patients from other nearby countries--Syria in this case, the area served is multi-cultural, and the hospital staff reflects that diversity.  The Christian social worker who does intake spoke to us.  He acknowledged that talking to Syrian young men who were likely soldiers after atrocities focused on Christians was hard at first, but their mission was medical care.  The Syrians are brought to the border by their soldiers and transferred to the hospital by Israeli military ambulances.  Some they treat are children and women, but the majority are young men of fighting age from the rebel armies.  An Israeli surgeon, when questioned about whether the caring medical treatment received changed any minds and hearts, told of a young girl--nine or so years old, who after thanking him for her care, told him she would be back to kill him.  He also told of a mother who managed to get her daughter back for a follow-up visit and was very grateful.  He said the Syrians were taught to hate Israelis from birth and receiving good medical care at their hands didn't necessarily make a difference. (Recently I read of a Druze mob forcing a military ambulance to stop, attacking the Syrian occupants, after a Druze community in nearby Syria had been attacked by rebel fighters.)  The hospital staff wanted their stories told, as they, like other Israelis we heard or met, believe the international press is prejudiced against them.  Hospital lobby below:

     The town of Safed was was filled with artists and art galleries of all varieties.  We also heard a lecture/sales pitch from a Kabbalah rabbi (whom those of Jewish faith thought was bunk!).  In the ancient city part of Safed, we visited a prison museum--a foreboding place.



     Leaving Tel Aviv, after a delayed start with bus trouble, for our long ride to Eilat, we were fortunate to keep our planned stop at the Bedouin town of Lakiya.  There we learned about the weaving that the women in that village were doing to earn a little money.  They work in their homes as they aren't allowed to work outside.  Our vivacious guide was new to her task and more friendly than expected.  Others served us small cups of tea and/or coffee while we watched a demonstration of their weaving process.  We hoped that in their homes with small looms, the women wouldn't be down on their knees while weaving!

 

   




Our bus continued to have problems so we were delighted when a new bus arrived driven by our regular driver.  We still had a long drive ahead!

Our next stop was at the Mitzpe Ramon natural crater's visitors' center.  This is not a crater as we think of it but a sizable area of erosion in the desert. From the edge of the visitors' center, we had an expansive view of the desert crater--sculpture-like formations and a vast area with a tiny bit of green here and there, a view of the highway we would be taking and distant hiking trails.  We enjoyed our brief stop, moving quickly to board the bus for the rest of our drive through the desert to Eilat.

 Playing for money, he wasn't shy about asking!


















I was fascinated by the desert and took many photos from the bus as we drove through.  It was unlike any desert I had seen with so little vegetation.  If I didn't say so in my Petra blog, we drove two hours through the Jordan desert to reach Petra and saw traditional Bedouin tent communities in the distance.  Our Jordanian guide said that the Bedouins are committed to educating their children so more and more, they are abandoning their nomadic ways.

   

Eilat is a tourist city with many huge hotels.  All our rooms had a Red Sea view.  It was for those who wished, a shopping mecca.  We arrived in time to unload suitcases and do a quick sea walk or shopping (both for some) before eating.  We were in Eilat one full day before we left for Jordan and Petra.


 My foray into snorkeling in the Red Sea wasn't the best, as the sea was rough, the life "booster" minimal, and my mask never quite fit.  The underwater photo is from the Underwater Observatory Marine Park--a delightful place.  I did see beautiful coral in the sea, but not in the comfort I experienced other times.

Petra was a fitting ending to a marvelous trip--so much to see and take in, and such a varied and fascinating country!  We flew back to Tel Aviv to spend the final afternoon and evening, with a 4 am bus to the airport.  My final afternoon wasn't one I had planned.  Simone and I agreed to go for a walk and a little shopping with a small woman doctor with more shopping energy than either of us had imagined.  We shopped at an Israeli Mall--not one known for catering to tourists.  We were certain of the customer base as our companion who wanted to do a "little" shopping bought several items for which she needed the VAT forms.  After she seriously considered a briefcase in one high-end shop, the shop borrowed forms from another store to be ready when we returned.  Our sushi lunch was at a bar-type place in the middle of the mall where we communicated by pointing and a few words.

Early the next morning we were guided through the initial process at the airport and had time for coffee and souvenir shopping and listening to a fellow tourist play the piano before heading to the controlled area to be screened for our flight home.  I was ready!

Petra, Jordan, Tel Aviv and Eliat, Israel

                              Beginning the walk through the 1200 m long, deep gorge in Petra

On the bus going out of Jerusalem, our guide gave her version of the settlements, describing what was "C" land, approximately 60% of the West Bank, and A and B lands.  (Much displacement and hardship comes in the C land as a result of Israel's control of security matters and civil matters such as zoning and building permits--a simplified explanation.)  She said this land is sparsely settled, and the Palestinians could live in Area A communities, which comprise about 18% of the land and all of the Palestinian cities.

Since I've covered Galilee, where we went from Jerusalem, I'll move on.  From Galilee, we stopped at the Baha'i Gardens in Halfa--a beautiful place.  We could only walk in a small part of the gardens as we weren't Baha'i, but viewed them from the top.

 
Traffic in Halfa and that leading into Tel Aviv made our travel slow.  In Tel Aviv, we checked into another luxury hotel, this one with dramatic public spaces.  The huge bathroom had only one sink and the shower was in a high tub with a small stationary shield to keep the water from the rest of the bathroom.  I was not impressed with the design.

Eating and shopping seemed to be the primary agenda for most folks in Tel Aviv.  Simone and I walked to Old Jaffa, beautiful along the sea, and found a delightful small Greek restaurant in which to dine.  It was my favorite restaurant during the trip, though the next evening's dinner with the women from Atlanta was quite enjoyable too.

Simone and I spent the next day--Israel's Independence Day--away from the group.  During the morning when most endured (or enjoyed) talks, we went to the Tel Aviv Art Museum--WONDERFUL!  Arriving shortly after opening at 10, we left as the doors were closing at 2 pm--early because of Independence Day.

We did a lot of walking--toured a number of the Bauhaus (white) buildings on foot--and arrived at Independence Hall where we were meeting the group--early.  Standing across the street and then sitting on the steps where the guards and Simone flirted, we watched Israeli's being turned away from the Hall because they closed early, knowing that our group would be going in at 4 pm.  The experience of being where Israel was declared a country could have been very moving, and it was--a bit.  It was however, an opportunity for propaganda speeches.

                                                             Independence Hall

    At the Greek restaurant in Jaffa

More happened in Tel Aviv--the birthday dinner for my benefactor and pushing through the outdoor market place.  Try, on a Friday afternoon, arranging a dinner for eleven on Friday night in a busy city, especially one where many are closed for Shabbat.  At the last minute we had a change and dined in a restaurant that was not on the tourist circuit.  Yeah!

I will write one more post--overall impressions.  In that post I will include the amazing staff at the hospital in Safed where they treat patients from across the border in Syria and the Bedouin women weavers.

Now Petra:  First we had to cross the border into Jordan--at least a two-hour ritual of going through one check point and then another--two in each country--and there were thirty-nine of us.  We then traveled by bus for another two or so hours through the desert to Petra.

     Six of our group rented horse-drawn carriages to ride to the main sight we would see--the treasury.  The rest began our walk, a guide leading with mixed results, down the narrow gorge, As-Siq, pictured above.  Below we caught our first glimpse of the treasury from As-Siq.

Petra was created and settled by the Nabataeans, ancient Arab tribes who settled in Jordan more than 2200 years ago.  They were clever and achieved a thriving kingdom that stretched to Damascus, including parts of the Sinai and Negev deserts, ruling the greater part of Arabia and controlling trade routes.  This I learned from travel books and the brochure we were given in Petra as I only faintly knew of these ruins before looking at our travel agenda.  It would have taken three or four days to do justice to these amazing ruins.  We had about three hours, and folks moved slowly, limiting our tour sites.

Here -- the treasury, the jewel of Petra, comes into view from As-Sig.  It was the tomb of a great king and perhaps was later used as a temple.  You can gauge it's height by looking at the people below.
Another view:


















Most of our group walked beyond the treasury and saw more elaborate tombs of royalty.











Smaller tombs were those for the common people.














And we were supposed to climb these steps cut into the rock to the view from the High Place of Sacrifice--but most of the group ignored the pace of the guide, and again, a late lunch at a nearby restaurant was a priority.

The anesthesiologist from San Diego is in the foreground.  The folks below rode back.  I enjoyed a brisk walk back with one of the women from Atlanta as we were the last to leave the area where these later photos were taken.

  A line from a poem by Dean Burgon--a rose-red city half as old as time--is descriptive, but in no way can words or these photos begin to describe this matchless place.

Christian Sights with Our Driver -- and Other Places in and from Jerusalem

After a quiet personal visit to the women's side of the Western Wall, we headed to the Mt. of Olives.  Our driver wanted us to stop at the Church of the Pater Noster, celebrating the place where Jesus taught his disciples to prayer the Lord's Prayer.  The prayer is on the church walls in many languages (in French above).  An olive garden is open for walking.  We stood in the garden at 10 am watching the streets in the distance as the siren to observe Holocaust Memorial Day sounded.  Traffic came to a standstill.  Tourists were silent.  It was a striking minutes.  On our return to the car, our driver was angry that many of the Arab drivers hadn't stopped.

Our next stop, the Garden of Gethsemane, was one of my favorites.  The ancient olive trees were fenced, but we stood close on the walkway around the garden and experienced the trees, some, as the one below, perhaps old enough to have been young trees when Jesus walked this area.  The church, built over the rock on which Jesus (supposedly) prayed before his betrayal and called the Church of All Nations, was built with funds from a number of countries, a number of denominations.  It is a Roman Catholic church but can be used by other Christian denominations.

We walked to our next stop, recommended by our driver--the church where Mary, mother of Jesus is said to be buried (one of two or three).  A man kept walking beside us, telling Simone that our driver had told him to give us a tour.  Our driver had made a point of saying this might happen, but not to believe anyone saying he had sent them.  The man said he would guide us around free.  As in Bethlehem, I was let into the "tomb" area from the opposite side from the line, to light a candle there. It happened quickly, and I barely realized the significance.  On our way out, the man asked Simone for money.  She was adamant that he had said he would be our FREE guide.  When we got back into the car, he beat on our driver's window, and they spoke.  As we drove away, Devon said that was the way the man made his living.  

Before going to the next stop on my agenda, Devon took us to King David's "tomb," and to the room on the site where the last supper was said to have been held.  There were several tour groups there, seeming to be moved by this spare room.  I wasn't among them.  

We drove to the Bethesda pools and St. Anne's church, on my agenda from a book loaned by a Boulder church friend.  The brochure we received upon paying our entrance fee said that pools beside the reservoir, which dated far earlier, were used for healing from about 150 BC and 70 AD.  The excavations began in the late 1800s.  The ruins are evocative.  I found it easy to imagine Jesus healing a man by these pools.

Again the church was built on the site of an ancient church, one that commemorated Jesus' miracle and the birthplace of his mother, Mary.  The spare church with few visitors had more sacred energy than the opulent altars surrounded by crowds.  Here, I prayed at a side altar.  

The gardens were also lovely, and we enjoyed them with few visitors in sight.

This ended our Christian tour.  Next we visited the hospital where our tour group was scheduled to see the Chagall windows.  The guide turned on the 30-minute DVD that acted as our guide and left

the two of us to enjoy these marvelous creations by ourselves.  I photographed most of them as I especially like both Chagall's work and glass creations.  Below are two:

Yes, all the symbols have meaning; however, I chose to enjoy them rather than take notes.

We ended our day spending a couple of hours in the Israel Museum--a wonderful place--knowing that the next day's visit would allow barely time for viewing of the Dead Sea Scrolls, an awesome display.

On the day we saw the Dead Sea Scrolls, we also visited Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Museum--all moving, but for me, especially the Children's Memorial.  It is hollowed out from an underground cavern, candles reflected in the dark space give the impression of stars shining in the heavens.  The children's names, ages and places of birth are heard in the background.  About 1.5 million children were murdered during that dark time.

Our last day we rode the bus--first to the Masada, where I looked longingly at those folks who had time to hike the switchbacks to the top while we stood in line for the cable cars to take us up.   We did a quick tour, our guide and the couple leading making sure we didn't over tax those few who weren't so able.  It is an imposing place but the rushed tour simply made me hunger for a more leisurely experience.

We needed to rush around the Masada because we had to make lunch at the Dead Sea.  Lunch was as large and varied, spread on several tables and stands, as any of our breakfasts.  Some had scheduled massages or facials too.  Simone and I changed into our bathing suits and headed for the Dead Sea and our experience of floating in the salty water.  My feet simply rushed out from under me.  The photo is taken nearer the shore, but we floated farther out too.  It was hard to do otherwise!  The excitement was later, trying to get into a shower to rid our bodies of the salt and dress for our return trip.  A bevy of Russian women were in the showers, shampooing their hair, bathing leisurely and letting another of their group into the stall before they exited.  I made it to a shower and let one of our group in as I came out.  Simone had given up and dressed.  

   That evening Simone and I looked out our window at the city, feeling that our visit to Jerusalem was too short.