The House of Wildness

I go for a late afternoon walk. I think -- I’ll just walk around the edge of the cliff and back; but the silence and the wildness of the wind have other plans. I walk to my regular spot where the wooden framed swing is swaying in the gusty breeze, overlooking the Zin Canyon. I love this swing, situated a few meters down an incline. Swinging, you feel as if you might lift off, joining the birds to soar above the vast moonlike formations.

The light is playing across the landscape, dappling the body of the world. I turn to walk back, and as I walk I keep stopping. I keep stopping and looking and sensing and stopping and looking again. My mind wants to know how to get this into my body, how to let the wind pierce through, to feel, really feel, I am here! I am alive! Everything is alive… The trees, rocks and sunlight...
 

A song comes to me, a chant I once learned from a healer woman:

Whirlwind, whirlwind,

Dance around me spirit wind...

Speak to me what I must know…

Carry me where I must go…

Carry me across the earth…

Sew the seeds of my rebirth…

I begin singing and as I sing, I am called in return, to venture off the path down a stone strewn hill, descending into the canyon. I am calling to the wind, and the wind and the land are calling to me… Whirlwind, whirlwind… The lyrics race out of me; stop and start; flow and blow like the wind, dancing. I find a large smooth rock… I kneel, taking in the landscape, the flora dancing in the wind just like my hair… I sit for a few minutes, singing, praying to the wind, talking to her as she races around me… Stealing warmth, teasing… Wilding me… And as I talk to her, my attention is suddenly pulled to a vision, another rock, further afield.

She is dark, almost golden. She is radiant earth, sitting atop a pile of rocks the colour of dry bone. As if marking something: a tomb, or a sacred spot… She calls, and I answer… I walk down the hill, deeper now toward the valley… She is surrounded by daisies, and slim grasses, pushing up through the sandy soil… Next to her, I find a smoother white rock, who invites me to sit on her… I do… I sing… I am singing all this time… Variations on a theme… Letting my voice flow outwards like the wind: Whirlwind, whirlwind, dance around me spirit wind...

I am drawn to touch this dark golden beauty, to hold her in my hands, to stroke her – and I do, with reverence. I don’t dare move her from her spot – that would be like taking the head off a spine... She is in her place, looking out, calling to me. And as I sit next to her now, I am in her house, her apprentice. I am being shown something, though I cannot say it in words. I only know I am in the proper spot, her houseguest, resting upon the seat she offered me…

This rock is like wisdom. She reminds me of a rock I dreamt of, though it was darker and a different shape, which represented wisdom. My wisdom… In the dream, this rock had been a wisdom tooth, that was removed, and I was exhilarated to discover her – She is so big and heavy! I exclaimed in the dream. I could not believe that this rock, this wisdom tooth, had been a part of my body all this time!

 
This golden brown rock emanates her own wisdom, and she teaches me by her pride, her knowing her place, her leadership, unabashed, holding herself up, yet deeply penetrating. She calls me into her. I gaze at all the patterns of gold and black, light brown and darker brown… I feel I must encircle her, and I do. I walk around her slowly, taking in all her dimensions, and then sit again as her apprentice, sitting and singing. Looking out, I bend my knees up like a frog, and take my sandals off to feel the stone beneath my feet.

This land turns you around, soaks you into her dry body, sings you and swirls you in the arms of the wind. There is no wildness like this. There is nowhere else to go or to belong, and if there is, the wind will take me there.

The green bushes that are in full bloom were completely barren six months ago, at the end of summer. I thought they were dead, and now they dance their emerald dance as if to laugh at me – You thought we were dead!

Yes, I thought… But my body and my being know otherwise. As I sit and gaze my eyes start to see the land in a different way. All the details slowly reveal themselves. I see the small wonder of lichen, spreading spotted fingers across each rock. Even if you were to imagine for one moment that rocks were dead matter, you cannot deny that lichen, the lichen that covers them is alive! Here, in this house of wildness, I know the rocks are alive too, their molecules dancing with energy.

The sensation of distance pulsates as the light retreats across the valley. The cliffs ahead are enlightened with the setting sun; their presence, omnipotent as gods. I stare across the space, sensing my body is wrapped in this vastness, this landscape of space and light and wind… I am That, I say to myself, but even those words cannot bring the meaning to life. My mind is forever trying to give me an experience that is already there, already living its life out, like the rock, standing atop its pile of small boulders, glowing gold in the setting sun.

The Zin Valley, Sede Boker, Israel, 2010

Desert Floods

Today the Zin Valley flooded. They say it is an intensity of storm and amount of rain that hits only once in ten years. The dry desert riverbed has become a rushing whitewater river. From Midreshet Ben Gurion, I bike down the winding road, wind in my hair, to see the flood. Children and adults gather around the beach, playing in the mud, watching the sunlight dance on the water. I walk along the newly formed beach, and further afield, find a large rock to sit on above the rushing water. There I sit, taking in the landscape: The big blue sky and winter cumulus clouds. The cliffs ahead of me, red in the sunlight, their layers of limestone and sense of ominous presence, almost regal, announcing themselves to the world...

I sit and look out at an area in front of me in the water where rocks beneath make the river dance and jump. I try to really see it, the details of it... How the water jumps in one big roll and then balloons upwards like mushrooms, like sea anemone, exploding into the air. People have come from all over the country to see this by the hundreds. Roads are closed from flooding.

Last night after dance school some friends came to pick me up in a jeep and we went "flood hunting". We drove down deep into the Ramon Crater, or Machtesh Ramon, as they call it in Hebrew. It was night, and driving along the highway we could hear the water rushing. We stopped to see the Ramon River, then the Nekarot, then the Zin. Each time, the water seemed more magnificent, faster, more huge. This land was BONE DRY commented my friend, just a few hours ago. And he was right.

Normally, it seems, this land does not know water. It certainly rarely knows rain like this. And yet, the land is carved by rain. The rain gathers and flows along the limestone mud ridges to the valleys, gushing across kilometers, out into the Jordon Valley, between the Red Sea and the Dead Sea. Ancient civilizations like the Nebetians knew how to live in the desert with whatever water came. They built terraces and cisterns to catch the water. Puddles in the desert form their own ecosystems, sometimes living on for months at a time in winter.

On our way home last night, we got caught behind the flood, which had reclaimed the road for its own use. The Zin river, further upstream near Mitzpe Ramon, was 30 meters wide at best, the current racing. A car, sitting at a dip in the road further ahead, had gotten caught in the flood, and stood there, lights blinking. A few phone calls and we knew the driver had abandoned ship hours ago, was already safely back in Beer Sheva, his car a write off. (Do insurance companies cover things like that?)

We had been on our way home, but what could we do? We did what any good desert loving Israelis would do -- we got out of the car, and danced in the rain. We danced, we waited, we watched and danced some more. Time passed. It was already past eleven. Cars and buses on either side of the river accumulated, lights shining on the dark water, waiting to pass.

Imagine, deep in the desert, the middle of the night, a rushing river appears, blocking the road, taking one car as its victim. Not just some small stream -- a mighty river, waves and current, everything. And yet somehow, slowly, the river was going down. This magic desert river of rain...

Asaf, who was driving us in his large blue land rover jeep, considered whether we could cross. Asaf has years of experience in such conditions, and works in the local rescue team helping drivers who get stuck. But was the water low enough now to cross? People die in such conditions, getting carried away in flash floods. The local Ranger was also in his jeep, testing the waters. Asaf left us to stay in the land rover by the shore, and joined the Ranger. Daredevils that they are, they slowly inched their way across the rapids... But time and again, they would reach the midpoint and back off. Too dangerous!

After about an hour of experimentation and waiting, the width of the river had gone down significantly, by at least half. Taking our chances, Asaf decided to try with our jeep. I closed my eyes, wondering how smart this was. Asaf's child was sick at home with his wife, and their house had flooded. We all wanted to get back home, but was this this really worth risking our lives for? How safe was it?

I held my breath as we inched through the waves... Our tires swam through the river as we past the stranded vehicle, still tenaciously holding on to the road above where the water surged into a low ditch. ...We began whistling and shrieking as we reached the other side -- We had made it! We suddenly felt like flood celebrities; our jeep was crowded by people congratulating us and asking our advice -- Was it difficult? Was it safe? How deep? On our way out of the traffic jam, we found 2 students from my dance school who were now stranded. They had been in a bus on the way to Beer Sheva, and got caught between two flood sites. We took them aboard our jeep (should I say ship?): two more rescue victims from a night of adventure, water, and wind.

Today on the shores of the Zin River, in the valley below the cliff where I now make my home, I see how the water has changed the landscape. The ripples in sand trace memories of where the flood reached just hours ago. I sit on a large rock next to the river, listening to the music of the water, so soothing to me in this normally parched land. Life is resounding through the valleys, calling my name. I am water myself, I think. I am water, sitting on rock, carved by water, washed by water, quenched and cleaned.

Thunder rumbles as I write this, and the rain begins again.

*

Afternote: The total amount of rain that came down in a 24 hour period was 80 mm, more than the yearly average and the biggest storm in 30 years.

For a striking slide show of the floods in the Negev and Zin Valley, click here.