notes from the nice side of the fence

At home there was a game that all the parents played with their children. It was called, What Did You See? Mara was about Dann’s age when she was first called into her father’s room one evening, where he sat in his big carved and coloured chair. He said to her, “And now we are going to play a game. What was the thing you liked best today?”

At first she chattered: “I played with my cousin… I was out with Shera in the garden… I made a stone house.” And then he had said, “Tell me about the house.” And she said, “I made a house of the stones that come from the river bed.” And he said, “Now tell me about the stones.” And she said, “They were mostly smooth stones, but some were sharp and had different shapes.” “Tell me what the stones looked like, what colour they were, what did they feel like.”

And by the time the game ended she knew why some stones were smooth and some sharp and why they were different colours, some cracked, some so small they were almost sand. She knew how rivers rolled stones along and how some of them came from far away. She knew that the river had once been twice as wide as it was now. There seemed no end to what she knew, and yet her father had not told her much, but kept asking questions so she found the answers in herself. Like, “Why do you think some stones are smooth and round and some still sharp?” And she thought and replied, “Some have been in the water a long time, rubbing against other stones, and some have only just been broken off bigger stones.” Every evening, either her father or her mother called her in for What Did You See? She loved it. During the day, playing outside or with her toys, alone or with other children, she found herself thinking, Now notice what you are doing, so you can tell them tonight what you saw.

She had thought that the game did not change; but then one evening she was there when her little brother was first asked, What Did You See? and she knew just how much the game had changed for her. Because now it was not just What Did You See? but: What were you thinking? What made you think that? Are you sure that thought is true?

When she became seven, not long ago, and it was time for school, she was in a room with about twenty children - all from her family or from the Big Family - and the teacher, her mother’s sister, said, “And now the game: What Did You See?”

Most of the children had payed the game since they were tiny; but some had not, and they were pitied by the ones that had, for they did not notice much and were often silent when the others said, “I saw…”, whatever it was. Mara was at first upset that this game played with so many at once was simpler, more babyish, than when she was with her parents. It was like going right back to the earliest stages of the game: “What did you see?” “I saw a bird.” “What kind of bird?” “It was black and white and had a yellow beak.” “What shape of beak? Why do you think the beak is shaped like that?”

Then she saw what she was supposed to be understanding: Why did one child see this and the other that? Why did it sometimes need several children to see everything about a stone or a bird or a person?

who would I be without the thought ‘I have a spiritual core’? who would I be if I couldn’t believe in this theory, that there is something hidden underneath many layers of conditioning and emotion, something constant and pure and unchanging?

I would not be so eager to find it. I would not punish myself for staying on the periphery of my humanity when experiencing strong emotions. I would not see anger and sadness in any way lower than serenity and joy. I would not think so much about my personal history and try to analyze it all the time. in the same token, I would not measure my “spiritual progression” and grade myself constantly on it. I would live life with no destination. events and people in my life would not be seen as tools for my own enlightenment. there would be no competition. they would be free to be what they are. I would be free to be what I am, whatever form this may take in the moment.

“Full-time approval seeking means that instead of just living your life, you have to act it out. Waiting for a bus on a neighborhood street corner, you can’t just wait for the bus. Every once in a while you have to step off the sidewalk and peer into the distance, doing a performance of someone waiting for a bus. Otherwise, one of the bystanders might think you’re up to no good.”

the following is a personal example of a process of self-inquiry using the four questions and turnarounds that make up The Work of Byron Katie. this method is used on thought patterns that I can identify as bringing some kind of stress into my life. the questions are simple, and the answers come from careful introspection and meditation rather than logic and judgment. the turnarounds are not a way of seeking to void my thinking, but rather to explore neglected aspects of reality that may relax my attachment to my own painful stories. as you read the questions, pause and slowly go in to see what is true for you. if you do not relate to this particular thought, see if you can think instead of a person in your life that you have found to be domineering or controlling.

for more information, visit www.thework.com

Israel is becoming a fascist state.

is it true?

yes! they are promoting horrible legislation like the biometric civil database right now. plus in many ways this already IS a fascist state, what with the occupation of the Palestinian territories and its racist agenda.

can you absolutely know that it’s true that Israel is becoming a fascist state?

yes. I’m pretty sure of it.

how do you react when you think the thought Israel is becoming a fascist state?

I get quite anxious.

I get very tense when I see police on the streets or when I read the news. I feel defiant and angry, and at the same time a part of me wants to go home and hide away.

when I go to demonstrations I notice how few people show up, same faces every time - and I use that as proof that this society is going to the dogs, that people don’t care about democracy anymore, if they ever did. I feel very desperate when I think that.

I feel my breath shortening and my limbs going limp. I start experiencing nighttime as frightening and suffocating. I get alarmed when anyone approaches me or walks behind me on the street.

I have pictures in my head from science fiction films like Children of Men and I try to figure out how I would handle a situation like that. I think about my activist friends and how powerless we all are to change anything. sometimes I avoid talking about social issues altogether because my own visions of a fascist future frighten me so much and get me really edgy and restless.

I get very impatient with my family for not taking interest in politics. I try to spend as little time as possible with them. I get really annoyed when I see my mom watching stupid television shows, and think that it’s people like her that allow our government to have its way. I see all Israelis as stupid, cynical and apathetic. I see social activists as native and ineffective. I feel lonely.

I make up an escape plan. if things get really rough, I tell myself, I’ll just fly away and seek asylum in Europe or become an academic. and then I’ll really be able to criticize my country because I won’t be under the government’s control anymore. I run different scenarios in my head and try to make sure I’m always ready to leave everything and go away. this is exhausting and means that I am never completely here.

I sometimes feel guilty for living here and paying taxes, especially while having the option of living in Europe. I think of other countries as a lot more civilized, healthy and democratic. I get myself going by thinking that I shouldn’t be dependent on this country anymore, I should not settle down here. I should not make new friends here.

I’m frightened. I feel like giving up on this country and its people. I feel victimized for having been born here. I get mad at myself for choosing to stay. I feel irritable, angry, stuck and confused.

can you see a reason to drop the thought?

well, yeah. it scares me.

can you find one good reason to hold on to this thought that is not stressful or frightening?

presumably if I hold on to this thought I would somehow be more prepared for fascism when it came, and I might be able to warn people better in the meanwhile.

and has that worked so far?

um, no. for one, I tend to be less active when I believe this story. I want to escape. and warning people, especially when I’m frightened and hostile myself, has not been proven to help.

so is there any other reason to keep this story that is not stressful?

no, there isn’t.

who would you be without this story that Israel is becoming a fascist state? who would you be if you couldn’t even think that thought?

much lighter. more active. more outspoken.

how would you treat other Israelis without the thought?

I would probably be more engaged with other Israelis, whether they’re friends of mine, activists, or just ordinary people. I would be more likely to see the good in people. I would feel safer to travel the country and meet people. I would not try to shelter myself at home and live through the internet only.

how would you treat yourself without the story?

I would not feel this burden of responsibility to save the whole country from fascism. I wouldn’t feel like I had to warn people whom I judged for not caring in the first place. I would not feel ashamed of my citizenship. I would not judge myself for choosing to stay here, and take responsibility for my life and for what I do. I would be more present. I would not feel tired and depressed after every demonstration, and I would cherish the amazing work that many people are doing here, including my friends.

turn the thought around:

>> Israel is not becoming a fascist state.

can you find at least three examples of how this statement might be true or truer than the original?

1. well, they haven’t passed the biometric database law YET. our information as citizens is still kept relatively private. and there are a few genuine human rights advocates as members of the Knesset who are working diligently at this time, not to mention the various NGOs.

2. there is a good degree of freedom of expression in this country. I get much information about what goes on in the occupied territories from some excellent bloggers, and have been participating in many inspiring public rallies on various issues in recent months.

3. in the long run, I can’t really know that that’s where things are going. the ongoing occupation and the pressures from this neo-liberal government might make it seem this way, but it is also possible that eventually a very powerful civil movement will rise up as a result. history says that things can change pretty fast.

other turnarounds?

>> I am becoming a fascist state.

1. well, yeah, especially when I think that Israel is! part of my reaction when I think that “Israel is becoming a fascist state” is to fence myself in and act out in suspicion and fear, seeing other citizens as my enemies. so that’s how I create my own fascist state of mind.

2. sometimes I can be pretty fascist in my own little world. when I look at my messy room or at my 2-do list I have the thought that I haven’t done enough and I really punish myself in very subtle ways, or I escape to drinking and television.

3. sometimes I get really angry at my parents or my friends for holding their views or for being ignorant, and I punish them too. I cut off my communications with them, or I kinda spy and monitor everything they say for traces of ignorance and prejudice. so I’m being a little fascist there myself.

>> the world is becoming a fascist state.

in a sense, the changes I see happening in Israel are part of global trends that can somehow be just more pronounced and obvious over here. racism, sexual prejudice, social gaps, civic surveillance, patriarchy, militarization, privatization and occupation are all things that do happen all over the world on one level or another. no economy or social movement today is really separate from any other. and in that, we’re all in the same boat. Israel is not so special. so escaping to another country may not make a whole lot of sense, especially when there is so much important work to do here and amazing people that are doing it and who can join together, without the burden of having to know where things are going in the future. and in that perspective my own presence here and the work I do feels a lot better and easier to accept, and even enjoy, for as long as I am here.

the following is a personal example of a process of self-inquiry using the four questions and turnaround that make up a method called The Work of Byron Katie. this method is used on thought patterns that I can identify as bringing some kind of stress into my life. the questions are simple, and the answers come from careful introspection and meditation rather than from logic and judgment. the turnarounds are not a way of seeking to void my thinking, but rather to explore aspects of reality that I have been neglecting that may relax my attachment to my own painful stories. for more information on this, visit www.thework.com

“having more than one home is like having none.”

1. is it true?

yes. once you’ve gone and lived abroad and then come back, there’s always gonna be something missing, always a part of you not here. that’s what happened to me.

2. “having more than one home is like having none.” can you absolutely know that it’s true?

…well, not really. in the sense that, I can’t really know that adopting a new home was the problem to begin with. I was anxious about staying in one place long before I did that. so no, I can’t absolutely know that “having more than one home is like having none”.

3. so how do you react when you believe the thought “having more than one home is like having none”? what happens?

basically, I get bitter. I have this image of myself as a tortured traveler, like Lot’s wife - leaving loved ones behind, never being able to look back despite herself. I get on this ego-trip that somehow homelessness and restlessness is my calling, it’s my nature, as if it were the inevitable downside of my gifts and talents.

when I have this thought, I treat other people as if they have something I can never have - a real home. and that usually means either admiration or envy, or a mix of both. sometimes I get really mad at people I love who settle down in homes and in relationships, because it looks to me like they’re flaunting. I can see how in the past I put distance between me and people I love for this reason, and then secretly blamed them for it saying they got “mellow” or “boring”. I then try to get close to people who are more “like me”, people who have no roots, no attachments. but there’re very few of them and although we can have fun together, ultimately I feel like they cannot give me what I need, which is a real home, so I go back to the “normal” people. the effects of this confusion is that I don’t get very close to anyone in either groups. I guess this means that I’m also judging people by their level of homelessness, I’m measuring their attachments to see if they can help me or not. I become obsessed with how dependent or independent people around me are, and myself.

when I believe this thought, I feel this detachment in my body. I feel like I have nothing to stand on, like something floating, disconnected from life force. this feels like lightheadedness, a difficulty to focus on one thing. I also feel this lethargy, this heaviness in my limbs. tired.

I get really angry at people like employers, therapists and musicians that require of me to stay in one place if I wanna work with them. I have the thought that I can’t stay in one place because I’m innately homeless, and that they’re not being flexible, brave or spiritual enough to accommodate my needs. I think about governments and travel agents and get furious with the world for making it so hard to move from one place to another. I feel like I want to be in two places at the same time, I feel like I wanna do everything at the same time, cook and do laundry and write emails and rest and work all at the same time. I can’t focus, I get tired.

I regret choices I made in the past. “if only I didn’t run away at 19 looking for other homes, I would be happier and more secure now”. I criticize myself and think I’m a coward. I get really sad and guilty. I don’t get too close to anyone, because I don’t want to disappoint them once I have to go again. I also don’t want to feel the pain of that. I spend a lot of time alone. I have thoughts like “I only have me to rely on, nobody else”. I see my needs for love and affection as a weakness.

essentially, my life with this thought feels like stumbling blind through endless dark corridors while everybody else is dining at the grand ballroom.

4. who would you be without the thought “having more than one home is like having none”?

someone who has friends in many different parts of the world. someone well-travelled. somebody not obsessed with the concept of “home”.

without this thought, I’d be more open to the joy of traveling, of moving around, of meeting new people. I love doing those things. I would feel less like a victim, and more grateful for all the amazing opportunities that have come into my life. I see myself smiling more, connecting with people easily and immediately. I wouldn’t always be trying to decide whether a particular place can be a home for me or not. I wouldn’t project so much into the future. when I’m in London, I would not see myself and all other immigrants as having some kind of shared fate that other people don’t understand. I would meet all people without fear. I would not see people who assimilate into other cultures as fake or lacking in any way. I would be more accepting of people and of where they are. I would be less confused about where I wanna be and what I wanna do, and I would not agonize so much over things I am supposedly missing or sacrificing. I would be more at ease with myself, more at home.

turn the thought around:

>> having more than one home is not like having none.

how can I measure “home” in the first place? it’s not about ownership of a house, or having a particular number of friends, or knowing the language, or having a visa, or spending a number of years in the same place. ultimately, being home is a feeling. a feeling that I deprive myself whenever I believe this ideology that would have me testing and counting my so-called “homes”.

plus, many people seem to be dividing their time between more than one home without too much trouble. so in this I can see how I had that same expectation of myself, perhaps at a time when I was not ready to do that comfortably. that doesn’t mean that having multiple homes will not work for me in the future. the confusion around my experience also does not mean I do not have multiple genuine homes already. I was just a little hard on myself there.

>> having more than one home is like being home everywhere.

yes, that is closer to my experience. from my travels I learnt how to let people walk in and out of my life without force, and how to pick up where I left with anyone even after years apart. I also saw that no matter where I went in the world and no matter who I met, I was always meeting myself, always confronting myself in everything that I did. so in that sense I have always been home - it wasn’t even a choice. it just isn’t always such a nice place to be…

that feeling of being home comes from a place of trust and confidence - the confidence that everything is will be fine. it’s only then that I can approach people with an open heart, and then the communication that follows only feeds back into that trust, that being home, being here, completely safe.