Allison's Journal

August 14, 2003

Reflections on my entry into Israel:

Our last plane from Munich to Tel Aviv: If we hadn't already been flying for 24 hours, this flight would have been the most comfortable. Getting onto that flight shook me up a bit. One of the first questions asked was if I knew any body in Israel. “My friend Jessica Williams.” Was I not wise in this decision to release such information so soon? As a group, we strategically discussed against readily throwing names. The interrogator said he was confused because I couldn't recall where she was staying. Well…anyway…I was, like I said…a little shaken up. If that was the calm in preparation for the storm, surely I’ll need to be more grounded. Hey, I could sing such a song again, until my glands secrete sand.

So, upon boarding our El Al aircraft, most felt familiar…similar to our prior winged adventures. Flight attendants' grins assure our safety or at most remind us that they care.

I wanted to read as much of a book called “Awareness:” To be aware, I must remain silent. To be a witness, I must not be dreaming, but conscious to this moment. Deep. Breathe. Consciously. Breathe until ears are full-out, squeezing the aim remains…beyond a cylinder of light. Pilot announces preparation for landing.

The man to my left spoke four languages, Russian…Arabic…Hebrew…and one other one that I do not remember. But not English. We silently communicated and I understood that when I licked my fingers after crumby cracker snacks, that napkins would work within this newest context. As our flight neared end, he pointed to the lonely planet travel book that my mother brought to me. “Good book.” I pointed to Jerusalem and asked where he was from. Or lived perhaps. That truly is this question/answer now, isn't it. Identity. De donde eres. One of the first questions that I learned when studying Spanish language. Where are you from? The question is asked to learn more about another person. So what then? When that person is afraid to share that information? To share themselves?

Snow falling and night falling fast…oh…fast
In a field I looked into going past,
And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,
But a few weeds and stubble showing last.

The woods around it have it-it is theirs.
All animals are smothered in their lairs.
I am too absent spirited to count:
The loneliness includes me unawares.

And lonely as it is, that loneliness
Will be more lonely ere it will be less,
A blanker whiteness of benighted snow,
With no expression-nothing to express.

They can not scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars-oh stars void of human races.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places.

“ Desert Places” by Robert Frost