A Year's Time

Today marks a year since I left New York and a lot has happened since then. Here's what's changed:

I moved to Tel Aviv
Entered the Israeli startup scene
Fell in love with a guy
Married him
Visited 3 different countries
Found a great job
Did the honeymoon thing

When I think of the difference this year has made I am astounded by all that. Usually it's the silent swoosh of another year passing with accelerating speed that astounds me instead. This has been happening more or less since my 20s and throughout my 30s when school, semesters and summer vacations gave way to the flow of Life As Is. Milestones happened along the way but never so many that were so meaningful in the mere span of 12 fleeting months.

There's a nice saying that reminds us life is what you make it. Each day counts because even though 24 hours may pass in a flash they add up to 24 hours. And the next 24 hours after that. So what you do with that time matters, including working hard, eating right, loving well and taking leaps of faith. For me coming to Israel was a leap of faith.

So today, to mark my one year anniversary since I arrived, we went hiking. Or so that was the plan. Now that I've been in Israel one year and feel like I'm settling in I want to get back to the things I love from before. Art. Reading. Teaching Yoga. Hiking.

Used to be I hiked all the time. Upstate New York, Patagonia, Colorado, the Palisades, Nepal. I have a list I'm pretty proud of but I haven't hiked much since coming to Israel. So today was a sort of new beginning. Also it's Saturday, the Israeli "Day of Rest."

We picked Nahal Taninim which loosely translated from Hebrew means "Alligator River." Israel is a beautiful country, from its European-style rolling hills up North to its Biblical desert landscape down south. Nahal Taninim is somewhere in the middle, a noncommittal 30 minute drive from Tel Aviv in the Carmel region, near Haifa. The trail itself is small and full of other people who had the same idea about how to spend their day not resting. That's the thing about hiking in Israel. Israelis love their country and getting to know it is popular among outdoor enthusiasts, youth groups, families, and all other citizens alike. That makes for a lot of people on one trail in a country this small, especially when that trail is considered "family-friendly."

Nahal Taninim ends up being nothing like the hikes I've experienced before or what I imagined for the day. But we are with some friends so we don't stop there. We end up at another park after that, marvel at its beautifully landscaped grounds and gardens of fresh herbs, then end up at one of Tel Aviv's best steakhouses. By the time we sit down to eat we must've "hiked" about 3 km.

But for a one year anniversary celebration of sorts it isn't bad. Nothing like what I imagined it would be but fun and full of laughs. Fall is just beginning and a cool breeze helped temper the still hot sun. We saw an ancient Roman aqueduct and the steak was delicious.

Mostly, today was pure pleasure in a series of moments that wouldn't have existed if not for every step and every minute that came along the way. These 12 months before could have just passed me by but they brought me here, to this new previously unimaginable life that I love. As the writer Milan Kundera says,

"There is nothing more obvious, more tangible... than the present moment. And yet it eludes us completely. All the sadness of life lies in that fact."

We can grow heavy with such sadness. Or we can learn to take advantage of the "obvious." And revel in it.

Morning window

This is the view I snapped from my bed this morning. I lay there thinking about how much it had changed in less then a year. How the one before had been my view for 11 whole years before I moved. The window then hanging over to my right, shuttered against the sound of West 60th and Broadway, and covered by almost always closed dark green Venetian blinds. There was no point in opening them, as the only thing to see was the Time Warner building blocking any glimpse of the park (though sometimes I did lift the shade to see if people were carrying umbrellas). Walking up in my shuttered room was like waking up in a dim cozy cocoon before descending 11 floors down to face the city day.

Now my morning window lies over to my left. And is almost always at least a little open so I can feel the breeze and hear the birds in the trees right outside. Our window points towards the sea and even though our apartment is too far and too low for a view, you can still feel it in the air. But  my favorite thing about the window is the birds. If I peer out I can see them in the branches, nonchalantly looking about as they make their festive noise.

The new window is indicative of everything else that has changed too. The rhythms and patterns of my days. The constant sunshine with which they begin this time of year in Tel Aviv. The way I move laterally to get to work across the apartment instead of down to the street and then the subway further below. Everything is quieter now too, the forever longing of New York replaced with the calm contentment of knowing better where I belong. There is still so much I need to do to feel truly settled here but I know that it will come.

In the meantime, there's the view.