Real World - Israel

September 18

I can’t honestly say that my love for Israel is above anyone else’s nor might it ever be. There are numerous people here who have a deep connection, especially those like me with no Israeli blood but chose to move to this historical and beautiful place. But I can say that the abstract ideas that pushed me to take this leap of faith are ones that I am devoted to and passionate about. Unfortunately or fortunately (depending on how one looks at a situation), with every dream, reality has a chance to set in on what is really taking place and possibly alter the picture of the dream, for better or for worse. This is the case now in my adventure.

After my army testing day, I received an envelope telling me my possible options for the army. Because of my physical profile, my list was smaller than any other male’s here, but that made it easier to narrow it down, so to speak. My top two choices ended up being tanks and combat engineering. That sentence wasn’t even a real thought a year ago and now it was coming into a more real state. Following this choice, I had a couple of interviews with generals and told the story of my Aliyah (for the ^th time) and explained who I was. All of this was making it more real, but these were still conversations I’ve had in the past. Things kept progressing…

This past Sunday and Monday, everyone in Garin Tzabar attended a seminar. Sunday consisted of a series of lectures, in Hebrew, about the current state of the Middle East conflict and some historical things about the land of Israel. However, one thing that stuck out was a movie that was done by someone who photographed and documented events and interviewed peopled during the war two years ago in Lebanon. Look, I know war is real and it’s not a game and I also know that what happened here two years ago was something people would like to forget about. But this movie…it hit me. Hard.

I imaginatively put myself in the shoes of those soldiers and, for the first time, pictured myself in a legitimate battle. The people in the movie were in tank units. That could be me (G-d forbid in a war). I was scared out of my mind. I couldn’t get the thought to leave me. “What am I doing?” I would ask myself. “Why am I here?” My brain was cluttered with more feared thoughts than I had had in a long time.

Sleeping that night was a little more difficult than usual due to the plethora of thoughts in my head. But Monday brought another side to the journey, the journey from dream to reality. We watched a live army exercise at the base at which I will probably be stationed. This was complete with explosions, tanks, canons, and guns. It was all becoming more tangible. I even went in a tank for the first time.

This led me to today. I received my official draft letter from the army. On it read my day I officially start (October 6), my length of service, and what I’ll receive on that day (although I start October 6, basic training doesn't start until mid-November, another month the army gives me to prepare). I looked at the letter and kept wondering what most of the Hebrew said and what October 6 is going to be like. I then kept thinking back to the movie and the army experience. Why was I here?

In the end, as I write this, I keep trying to find answers to that question. I think back to the reasons that pushed me here – the people who fought for this Jewish land are a big motivation factor. Over 2,000 years our people were in exile from a land and it’s a necessity to have a Jewish land. I keep telling myself I need Israel – and I’m finding reasons why Israel needs me. Also, thinking back to the poem that I was introduced to this summer, I can’t get robbed of today because of regrets and fears. I must take the fear and change it to motivation to help continue to build the land of Israel. David Ben-Gurion said “עם בונה צבא בונה עם” – a nation that builds an army builds a nation. This journey is important to me and the Jewish people. Reality is setting in. No fear.

Testing, Testing: 1, 2, 3

September 3

The definition of integrating is as follows: to bring together or incorporate parts into a whole. Over the past three weeks, I have tried my best at this integration process. I have tried only speaking Hebrew in public, keeping Shabbat in observant neighborhoods in Jerusalem, and taking public transportation with a mindset of an Israeli – the idea that I’m getting to where I need to go, regardless. Certainly I’ve learned it’s a process and might continue for a long time, but the last two weeks have given me some major moments in my progression to being “Israeli.”

My main part of integrating into society so far has been my joining into the kibbutz life. I received an adoptive family and they are wonderful. They have three children, a 21 year old boy, 18 year old girl, and a 13 year old boy. He is essentially my little brother and it’s fun to have one for the first time. Another thing I’ve started doing in the kibbutz is my work. Everyone that is a member of the kibbutz must work in order to get his/her share of the food and education and things of that nature. Within our group, people’s work spans from dishes to gardening and fish farming to museum helpers. I got placed in the petting zoo. At first, hearing this, I wondered how bored I would get petting and feeding animals all day. To my surprise, the work is very hard physical labor that requires seven hours of focus and dedication. It may sound like I’m exaggerating about the job, but I am not. Keeping a place to live in order for almost 100 animals such as roosters, ducks, rabbits, and goats is more work that one could imagine. I have worked with more tools to clean up animals’ waste and living areas than I think I’ve ever used overall in my life…and there have only been two work days.

But probably the biggest thing that I’m doing to become more integrated is joining the army. This country revolves around the army and everyone feels some sort of connection to it. Noam Jonah, JJ’s oldest son, was playing with me last Shabbat and his role play was being my big brother who was in the Israeli Army. He’s six years old and just started first grade this week.

Yesterday, I along with the rest of my group trekked to Tiberias to do our tzav rishon, our first army tests. Here we would be taking a Hebrew test, a psychological test with analogies on the computer, and receiving our physical profile from the doctor. Tzav rishon only happens once, so you have to score as best as you can on everything.

We arrived at 8 AM and got started with everyone’s favorite pastime – urinating into a cup. Then it all just went into an organized free-for-all. The whole thing had the separate stations and people helping everywhere, but it was a madhouse all day. My name was called first and I scanned a card I had received and I stepped into a room with many female soldiers and some computers. I didn’t know it at the time but this was my Hebrew test. It started with innocent questions about who I am until in the middle my soldier I was talking to whipped out a binder and asked me to read sentences and explain what they meant using other Hebrew words. After that I wrote for her. Then I talked for her. I was reassured by this soldier that even Israeli teens find this test hard. I had finished the Hebrew section with only one thing on my mind – I hope I didn’t completely fail.

Next I moved to the psychological computer tests which felt SAT style…except I only had 10 minutes to answer 30 questions on two separate tests. I was happy to get that over with. After that it was to the doctor I went where I waited for a while to get a physical. I knew having bad eyesight would bring down my profile number, I was just hoping that would be it. There are countless stories of these doctors discovering irregular heartbeats or things of that nature which weren’t realized by other doctors (strange but true). I received no information about new things that would lower my profile, found out that I’m still legally blind without my glasses, and got the third highest profile number, which is the lowest possible for men to have combat jobs.

I was done with the stations. Now I had to play the waiting game to see what type of Hebrew score I received. Two through five meant extra ulpan (Hebrew class) with other immigrants and going into units even later. Six through nine meant I was like most other Israelis who took the test and could do anything based on my physical profile. I received the news after three hours that I…had passed! I got a seven! I was gleaming with joy and disbelief. The long day brought me good news and instilled confidence into my Hebrew skills.

My first steps into the army were over. I am now in the system. My next two years are starting to take shape and it has started on the right foot. Of course I still have a lot of work to do – physically, mentally, in Hebrew skills. But I’m on my way and I like the path so far that I am on; the road ahead looks bright. Within the next few weeks I might choose my job in the army. But for now, I’m replaying the waiting game and practicing more integration. I need to finish the definition and incorporate all of the parts together into a whole – that of an Israeli.

Can I see some ID please?

August 19

I had written previously about the fact that life zooms by and it is sometimes hard to catch it before it eludes you. Somehow, over the last week of mine in Israel, my first one as an official citizen, thing have slowed down to a speed where I could really savor everything that was going on around me, the good and the strange.

My first Shabbat as an Israeli was just that – Israeli. I grew up in Hebrew school much like any other Anglo-American Jew and were always taught that Israel is the Jewish state and everyone is Jewish which therefore means they celebrate holidays or things of that nature. I have come to learn that isn’t remotely the case as most Israelis live secular lives before Jewish ones. This is certainly not a bad thing, just interesting due to the fact that my whole life in America I had to seek out to practice Jewish events and here, on this wonderful and beautiful kibbutz in Israel, I still have to do the same.

We spent Friday and Saturday camping and hiking essentially in our backyard – a richly green forest with numerous trails, valleys, and rolling hills. We spent Sunday becoming more acquainted with the kibbutz, and Monday I took my Hebrew test to see which ulpan, or Hebrew class, I’d be placed into. Throughout it all, I being probably one of the only people on the entire kibbutz who wears a kippah, I’ve had to come to grasp the idea that I still need to make a place for Judaism in my life. At first I was slightly upset about it but now I’m happy to continue representing many things from my religion which only makes my connection that much stronger. Having had this slow time I’ve been able to dissect my feelings over the past week that much better and I am really grateful for that.

All of that thinking of my place in the Jewish people, especially in Israel, seems like it dominated my week, but it did not at all. Because I also became Israeli and that part of me was somewhat tested this week and revealed. My first full day as an Israeli, in a taxi, the driver said what I was doing and I explained I was moving stuff to my new kibbutz. He asked if I was Israeli and I didn’t hesitate to say, “Yes,” and he questioned it immediately. I had no problem telling him that I was just as Israeli as him, no matter where we were born or our native tongue. I stuck it to the man.

Throughout the week, besides ordering a phone, I waited and waited for my teudah zehut, my I.D. card, which was really the next step in being an Israeli citizen instead of just a new immigrant. Today was the day I received it, with my picture, smile and all, and only Hebrew writing – Israeli identification I had in my possession. Next was another step to being a citizen and that was opening up a bank account. After signing many papers which I am still unsure of what I signed, I had opened the account and got an Israeli credit card on top of it. I stared at the card and kept laughing and smiling because it was so cool to see my name, in Hebrew, on a card like that. “Now,” I mumbled to myself, “ I don’t have anything a native born Israeli doesn’t have.” I was on my way.

That brought us to tonight where we had a welcoming ceremony with many of the kibbutz members in attendance. This was to meet and greet, receive a blessing, and let them see what we are all about. For a reason I am still not too sure of, I was asked to deliver some words on behalf of our group to the whole kibbutz. I was going to be speaking in Hebrew and I wasn’t nervous. I had already taken risks to get to that point and having that honor was an extra bonus I was very happy to receive. I said what my friends Danna and Mika helped write and the kibbutz members were very impressed and I was satisfied with myself and the whole group.

When finishing the night by meeting many new people, it was clear to me that this was the place for me. Regardless of religious observances, language barriers, or the smell of cow **** every morning, the people reinforced to me why I made the decision I did; I felt as if I was in a welcoming place, a home. This was a shavuah tov, a good week. I’m sure it will be the first of many to come.

The Happiest Place on Earth

August 13 – Aliyah Day

There we were, descending through the clouds off the coast of Israel, only minutes away from landing as Israeli citizens. We watched our TV screens closely as the map showed the plane drift onto land and our eyes then caught the first buildings in the country. This was actually happening. Once a dream, now becoming a reality.

As the plane landed, all of us erupted into loud cheers while my fellow future soldier and friend Gilad and I asked ourselves, “What the **** is happening?” Being a special chartered flight of only people making Aliyah, passport control came to us. I was mere sconds away from walking out of the plane and peering out at the view of my new home.

I was cleared to go and I ventured toward the open door with my backpack and pillow behind me and a flag and a camera in my hands. All I could do was smile and photograph. We walked down the stairs and were greeted by photographers as if we were the USA basketball team. Flashbulbs everywhere made it hard at first to grasp what was taking place around us until we took a picture of everyone coming to do their army service – 43 people overall!

We boarded the bus which was to take us to the old terminal of the airport where a welcome ceremony was to take place. I started thinking about the first time I came to Israel at the age of ten and it felt special after all I had learned from classes and my mother. This time it was magical. In the distance were many Israeli flags and as we got closer, my friend Michal asked, “Is this all for us?!” Indeed it was.

As the bus pulled into where it was stopping I saw Justin and David, the former being one of my best friends and roommate and the latter being one of my best friends who made Aliyah last year, one of my inspirations. Their eyes opened big and my mouth opened wide and I pointed to them and the excitement was reaching a new level.

The doors of the bus opened and Heyveynu Shalom Elechem – “May peace be upon you” was booming from the loud speakers. Sari Roy, another close friend who did what I was doing only a few months prior was right there to hug me. Hundreds of people were singing and dancing and greeting all of us with open arms. Then I saw JJ Jonah, my Israeli dad and a big voice of reason in my decision and we embraced. O kept walking over and found Justin and David and the smile wouldn’t leave my face. They hugged me and we danced together and we were simply happy.

After many minutes of this Justin lifted me on his shoulders and I felt like I was on top of the world. Spur of the moment people began dancing around us and singing in joy. Next we made our way inside and prepared for a ceremony filled with many speeches from many important people. One of these people was Tzipi Livni, the foreign minister and assistant prime minister and possibly Israel’s next prime minister. If any other thing could make this even more real it was having her there to welcome us.

It was dawning on me – I was becoming a new citizen of the country. And the speakers certainly couldn’t let me forget what I was doing here as they recognized people joining the army seemingly every other sentence. We left the ceremony and moved upstairs where I was going to be receiving my first documentation as an Israeli – my Teudat Oleh, Certificate of Immigration. A nice lady handed over the passport-like booklet and I looked inside to see my picture with Hebrew writing and my date of Aliyah – August 13, 2008 – a day that will never leave my mind or my soul. This was the day I took a step towards following a dream and at that moment I felt proud of myself and fellow immigrants.

As I then walked downstairs to get my bags I came across the oldest immigrant on our flight, a kind and gentle 96 year old woman. If only we could all know how long this has been her dream. She was more than ten years older than I am now when Israel was still being fought for to become a Jewish state. I was gladly sharing this experience with such an motivating woman.

The rest of the day went as most in Israel do for me – resting, eating, and playing with JJ and Shira’s kids. But this day was different. It felt different. This was my day. My day of Aliyah. It actually had happened. I carried my Teudat Oleh with me to downtown Jerusalem and every time I reached in my pocket usually feeling my cell phone, I felt my teudah, constant reminders each time of what had transpired. In life, there are always ups and downs, and this is surely true here in Israel, too. The goal is to make sure I turn downs into ups to keep my spirits high in times of hardship. I don’t think I’ll have to do much more than remember the moment I walked off the plane and was able to say to myself a line I’ve wanted for sometime – “I’m Israeli now.” Yes I am. Yes I am.

One Day

August 11

One day. One day away from a moment in my life that might define who I am or who I will become. One day away from “Living the Dream” as Nefesh B’Nefesh calls it. Aliyah – to go or rise up both mentally and spiritually to Israel. One day is all that stands between me and fulfilling a dream. A day that will most likely last a lifetime.

Over the past week I have said my goodbyes to many of my close friends and family. My parents, uncle, aunt, brother, sister (even though she’ll be joining me in 2 weeks), and the Ezra staff from Camp Ramah were all people I had heartfelt goodbyes with.

However, I don’t like to think of the goodbye part but rather the chance I’ll have to say hello to many of these people in my new home – Israel. Josh Taff, a good friend and coworker of mine at camp, said, “It’s not goodbye, it’s see you later. In Hebrew, we don’t say שלום – shalom – but rather להיתראות – l’hitraot – meaning see you later.” I took his words to heart as I said some words with each of the aforementioned. Saying to people, “I’ll see you in Israel,” has become my favorite thing to say because it makes me smile along with whomever I’m speaking to. But sometimes we know our wishes or dreams don’t always come true even when we want them so badly. I feel more than fortunate that I am one day away from fulfilling one dream of mine. However, when saying farewell to the Ezra staff, I realized just how hard it is to leave people you hold close to you, especially when you don’t know the next time you are actually going to see them.

My fellow coordinators who I admire immensely had already done more than enough for me when, on top of it all, they asked each Ezra staff member to say a memory or thought about me on our last night together. When these things occur, you hope that you’ve done something, one thing, to impact their lives so that you don’t see where you might have missed a beat. Because, at the end of the day, just even smiling at someone might have positively changed that person’s day which, in turn, could change their life forever. Think about it – it’s true.

I was humbled by the words spoken by the Ezra staff and I kept thinking that I want to see each of them in Israel, without a doubt. A few of them promised a visit, but how certain can we be that this is so possible? I am going to see my parents in December. I am going to see my brother in the summer. These beautiful people who taught me how to view life for its positives only and never to give up? Unknown. This is another example of why nobody should ever let go of what they have until the last possible second, if not at all, because you’ll miss it so much when that sad time comes.

Dr. Seuss’ books caught my eye at Target the other day, specifically Oh the Places You’ll Go. I always look towards the end at a favorite page of mine: “And will you succeed? Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and 3 / 4 percent guaranteed.) KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!” There are two ways to look at this. One way is thinking what if we land in the 1 ¼ percent area where we don’t succeed? Do we just give up? The second way to view this is by seeing that confidence is vital, just not 100% certainty so as to lose your motivation or drive to finish any undertaking. The first view has to be battled back by saying to yourself, “No! Failure is not the option. I will try my hardest even if it doesn’t work out the first time. The second view speaks to me because it says if we take something for granted, then we aren’t doing the thing for ourselves. We must believe we can move mountains and find the mental and physical strength inside to complete even daunting tasks such as this. This is what Dr. Seuss is stressing – confident, motivated, yet not cocky.

Almost 2,000 years ago this week on the 9^th of Av in the Jewish calendar, the Romans dispersed the Jews and tried to destroy the people and their culture. Almost 2,000 years later in the present, the Jews inhabit Israel and make her flourish. Tomorrow I take the next step to becoming a part of that land, that people. The Romans might have thought that was the end of the Jewish people. Think again – Israel is alive and well and I’ll be embracing her within one day. One day that will be overwhelming and exciting. One day between me and Israel.

The Postman

July 25

It’s hard for me to say that I’ve seen it all in my life, or even a lot. Heck, I’m a young 22 with limited experiences in what we call life. Sometimes it feels like I’ve done so much in some areas when in actuality I feel as though life is somewhat starting new every day. You never know what you might see, and that may be the most interesting and greatest thing about life.

Each morning, we say מודה אני, modeh ani, thanking G-d for a new day, another chance to live life to the fullest. Some days are good, others on the opposite side of the spectrum. In my short life, there have definitely been some of both. One of my worst days I can recall actually started off as one of my better as I returned from צעדה, tza’adah (a 5-day, 4-night camping trip), covered in mud and filled with joy, only to then learn a good friend of mine had committed suicide. Things in this world can change so fast, and I remember this day as a lesson to cherish what is there at the time.

One a brighter note, I can say that attending Superbowl 42 with my father was a day that, whenever recalled, brings an instant smile to my face. Almost never will I experience an isolated day like that where an immediate rush of emotions filled my body to the point where I felt like I was legitimately dreaming that I was there. It felt surreal. I hope everyone has days they can look back upon and say, “That day. That day will always be etched in my memory forever, and for good.” Well, thankfully, others have also followed suit for me.

I have a story I’ve told many times about a moment I had with my campers with special needs back in 2005. In a game of “Would you rather?” the children were asked randomly from a book, “Would you rather die and be re-born into somebody else’s body or live the same life over again?” Each of them answered the latter. This amazed me then and it amazes me now. It is too bad not all of us can appreciate our lives the way these children do. Unfortunately, in our society, many times the population labeled with “special needs” is told that they can’t do it. Period. They can’t read well. They can’t talk right. They can’t eat correctly. Well, simply said, society is wrong. Although they are told, “No,” without given a fair chance, some still have the confidence and determination to go for the gold. In this Tikvah (which means hope) program, they develop this confidence, and I saw the number one example of this last week.

The ropes course was gracious enough to invite the Ezra Staff for a morning of group building games and a possible chance to go on the high ropes. Throughout the group building stage, each activity required trust of the rest of the group. Before and during each one, the Ezra Staff members repeated phrases such as, “I can’t do this,” or, “This is too hard!” In the end they completed each task and had smiles from ear to ear, seeing that simple willpower can equal success – in anything.

After finishing the activities, it was time for the chance at the high ropes. Had I not done anything like this before (which for most of the Ezra Staff this was their first time), I would have been very afraid of going up into the air only attached by a rope and harness. The ropes course staff was great, saying, “Just even doing one step on the wall or one run on the pole is an accomplishment because it is the farthest you’ve ever gone.” Most did that and it was a genuine proud moment for everyone.

Then, Samantha Doner, an energetic yet sometimes timid young adult, stepped up to me and asked if she could try the “Postman,” a high ropes activity where one climbs up a pole about 30 feet high followed by walking along a tight rope and only having another rope to hold on to for support. I smiled and said, “Sure,” knowing that even asking was a sign of confidence. She got ready and prepared to climb. The magic was beginning.

One rung followed by another allowed Samantha to get higher and higher. She made it to the tight rope, already having gone higher than what most would expect, including yours truly. Yes, I feel guilty for not at first believing in her because I was not preaching what I believe. However, at that moment, I jumped on the bandwagon because it only mattered what one person believes at that time – and that was Samantha.

She began moving across the rope slowly but surely. Everyone (about 15 people in all) was cheering endlessly. Every time she would stop and ponder quitting, her friends’ encouragement pushed her determination even further so she would reach the end goal – the end of the rope. I tried cheering but I was so caught up in the moment all I could do was stand there with a smile and an open jaw.

Samantha did it. She finished. She did something almost nobody would have thought she could do when they woke up that morning. After thanking G-d that morning for reaching a new day filled with surprises, this was the most pleasant one of all. Pain was a big thing in Samantha’s mind at that time, but her ability to complete a task that seemed close to impossible gave her even more strength to smile and exclaim, “I did it!”

This goes to show that if you tell yourself you’re going to do something, your ability to complete any objective becomes increased. In the Israeli army is said as, “הכל בראש” – everything is in your head. Samantha showed to us this is true and it can almost always be this way. I will look back upon this and think how fortunate I was to witness such a motivating moment. She proved me and many others wrong. Our director, Elana Naftalin-Kelman, said before this happened to find the moments when it is clear that we do the job that we do for a reason. I believe this moment is self-explanatory.

Samantha did it. She didn’t let thoughts of failure get in the way of her journey to the finish line. Now, as the big day approaches, I must begin to see this determination she possessed on that morning so that I may too find abilities once thought of as impossible. Adidas® has a slogan saying, “Impossible is nothing.” Amen. The next stage of the journey is imminent and I am ready. Impossible. Is. Nothing.

Avoiding Twin Thieves

July 9

It is said sometimes that we as humans try to vicariously live our lives through other people. We begin to idolize a person or a cause and take so much ownership over how the person feels, acts, reacts, performs, and simply lives. In my life, I’m pretty sure my first experience of this was my Dad and my brother. Making sure I listened to the same music as my dad, played like my brother in sports, and made proud the family name were how I accomplished this. Of course, as time went on, it turned into athletes, counselors, and friends. I suppose I was always trying to acquire different attributes of those I admired most rather than focusing on my true self.

It’s much too hard to tell when I feel as though I started to take on my own image instead of taking on parts of others. I hope that I am myself more than others but that’s not for me to judge. It sounds simple and cliché to say “just be yourself.” But it’s so important to live like this because when a person is genuine, it creates an atmosphere that is just enjoyable to live in. Individuality is something that should be valued high; when it is not, and our focus shifts elsewhere, then we miss out on the goodness of one another.

However, even after preaching such values, I am guilty of the aforementioned vicarious thoughts. Last night, I caught my friends Mike Dolinka and Danny Fleischer via telephone prior to their trip to New York. This trip to the Big Apple was only a pit stop before their Aliyah would begin. As part of my Aliyah process, I actually had marked July 9 on my mental calendar as a big day. These two people are huge motivation factors in my decision because it’s comforting to know people so “similar” to me, people of the same relative age, life status, and nationality. Having a whole group, my Garin, is amazing; having two great friends in it before it all starts makes it even better.

Needless to say, time had zoomed by to the point where I couldn’t believe that their day was remotely close. The date’s fast approach almost made it almost completely elude my mind, and I’m not too sure what sparked the recall. I was fortunate to be at the play Wicked and even more to go backstage after the show. On that stage it occurred to me that I wasn’t all there in the head. I was thinking of other things, daydreaming about the thoughts of tomorrow and the life that had passed. These friends of mine were taking the biggest step and now all I can do is follow suit in a month.

Thinking about yesterdays and tomorrows is all well and good, but it can not be our only thoughts. TODAY has to be our sole thought. Avi Taff, my supervisor at camp and someone who went through this same process only a few years ago, handed me a poem a couple of weeks back that I can not get out of my head even the slightest: “The Station” by Robert Hastings. It speaks of the pleasure of life not being the destination but rather the journey.

The poem reads, “Sooner or later, we realize there is no station, no one place to arrive. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only a dream. It constantly outdistances us.” Later on it says the following which should be reverberated in everyone’s head many times each day. “It isn’t the burdens of today that drive men mad. It is the regrets over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who rob us of today.”

Don’t get caught red-handed by these thieves. Live in each moment. Today, Danny, Mike, and others from my Garin did themselves well and lived for the present. Although it may sound contradicting, I can only think of the day when I will say to myself, “I am doing this; I’m doing Aliyah NOW – not tomorrow, not next month, but now.” At that moment I will have left regrets behind and pushed fears aside and come into my own, my now. My now is quickly on its way.