Days of Awe

This Day of Atonement was probably the best I had in 57 years. This is so because I did not read the prayers (but the Tfilat Neila), I did not torment my body and soul, I did not fast. Instead, I worked all day in my garden.
This probably sounds like Blasphemy to anyone who considers himself a Jew. But for me, this was a very deep way of contemplation. As I worked, I was fully aware of the fact that I work on the holiest day of the Jews. I worked hard, in deep contemplation. I thought about my protagonist, who gave his life for the right to fast in The Day of Atonement and keep the Jewish religion, and I thought about the year we have passed, me and my sons, in which we left Tel Aviv and moved to kibbutz Tuval at the Galilee. I felt grateful for the change this move made in the life of my sons and mine. I even said loudly, ‘Thank you, God, and thank you Dad, for making this possible.’ And then I continue to work.

I achieved a lot. I cut the buckthorn that obtruded my yard, I uprooted a lot of weeds from my vegetable garden, I uplifted my tomato plants and trimmed their wilted parts, and then I sowed sweet pea, the flower I love so much, that I always dreamed that sometime in the future I will raise it in my garden. I also sowed Tropaeolum majus, to cover my front yard with its sweet colorful flowers, and use it for salad, and wheatgrass, so that my cats and dog will not dig in my new gardening spot. I also set droppers along this spot in my front yard.

When finished, I was exhausted as someone who did fast. I took four showers today, and after the fourth one I put on my long sleeve white shirt, a long sleeve Jeans, gave my boys a shower and dressed them the same, and then put on our yamakas, took out my Day of Atonement prayer book, and went to the kibbutz gathering for the closure of this holy day.

I prayed with the members of the community. I had no problem with that, as I know the prayers and love them. The atmosphere it the community gathering was warm. I sang the prayers with my friends, knowing deep in my heart that I did my own contemplative process today, without asking the forgiveness of God or of Men, but with a heart full of gratitude, and I believe this is what it’s all about.

 

Winning Over Technophobia

Daniel and Michael play at the shopping center of Karmiel.

In my childhood, whenever I took a tool my dear deceased mother would say, “Ilan, you have a pair of left hands, why don’t you take a book instead?”.

She meant good, but it made my suppress my technical abilities into my shadow.

As time passed, I became unable to do any work of home repair. I appointed each of my ex-boyfriends into ‘the man of the house,’ as far as it concerns with any technical mission, and when this did not work (my last boyfriend was and is a scientist, not a man of technical work) I used to call a handyman for anything that needed repair or mounting.

Once, a dear friend of mine, Denise, a theater producer and a writer, who has her way with tools, decided to cure me. She bought me a huge pirate ship for assembly and brought it into my house. “Are you crazy!?” I freaked out, “This is my innermost fear! When I was a child my uncle used to buy me kits of aircraft and ships for assembly, and I always failed to do that!”

“Don’t worry,” she smiled, “I will do it with you.”

But this did not happen. After few years that kitt stood on one of my shelves, as a permanent reminder of my technophobia, I gave it away.

I tell this story to my creative writing students when I teach them about The Shadow. “We suppress into the realm of the shadow not only unwanted behavior, urges etc, but also positive things such as creativity and other gifts,” I say, and then I tell them the story about my technophobia.

Actually, when I was 14, I had a psycho-technical test, in order to find out what my abilities are and see what I should learn in high school. We all had this text in the 1960’s. To my mother’s great pride she has been told, that basically, I fit into studies of the humanities. But that I also have a natural gift of abstract and spatial thinking. and therefore I can be an engineer or an architect.

My mother sent me with my father to register at The Tel Aviv School of Practical Engineers. But when I saw the pupils there, going around with T-bars Peeping out of their bags and heavy eyeglasses on their noses, I told my parents that I will never study in such a place, and that it is also too late to try and change my life path, as I am going to be a writer, not an engineer.

I recollected all that today. This morning, the morning of The Day of Atonement Eve, we went to buy supplies at Karmiel. I also bought a service cabinet, to put all the garden and swimming pool tools inside it, before the first rain.

My first thought was to call Haim, the kibbutz handyman, a dear man who did and still does any technical thing in my house and yard. But then I had a second thought. It is a holiday, the kids are at home. Why don’t I invite them to assemble this kit together?

And that’s what I did. I asked them to build it together. I opened the box, took out all the parts of the kit, opened the instruction page, and followed it. This is not something I ever did. I have a cognitive disability to ‘translate’ diagrams into 3d objects. But I insisted. I could almost make it, but then could not figure out how should I continue. O.K, I said to myself, I will call Haim and ask him for his help again. But then something beautiful happened. My son Daniel, 5.5 years old, who is used to work with tools (as his brother does) since he was two years old, took a look at the kit, and said, ‘Dad, I know how to fix it. here!’ – and he did.

We celebrated our success with cries of joy and kisses, and then organized all of our tools inside the cabinet.

In the afternoon I had another chance to win over my technophobia. For an unknown reason, I had no water in half of my first floor. None of the toilets worked, no water in the handwashing sinks. And then the washing machine didn’t work as well.

I have tried all the main faucets but in vain. No water came through the pipes. I went to check the electric main board, maybe something has caused a short circuit (I know there is no connection between water and electricity, but that is the way I think on such matters:)). I could not find the source of the problem.

“Kids, I really do not know why There is no water in half of the house,” I said. “Are you sure you didn’t touch any main faucet?”

“No,” they replied.

But then Daniel said. “Dad, I know where it is!” he took me outside the house, to a hidden spot, where they play, and showed me another main faucet I had no idea is there. And indeed, it was shut down, and as I lifted its handle, the water came back.

This is The Day of Atonement Eve. I am proud to say that I won my technophobia today, discovered again Daniel’s amazing technical abilities (the boy does not have to look at explanations. He examines an object and immediately knows how to fix or handle it), and ever held a short conversation of reconciliation with my neighbours, concerning our dispute about the dogs.

I do not fast, and I do not pray, during this holy day. I believe that I should do my best every day and that God had nothing to do with my diet. But I do thank God for creating me as I am, for my sons, and for giving us all the opportunity to constantly grow out of disability, misery, and pain, and especially out of our rich and effervescent realm of our shadow. Amen.

Biorhythm

As you grow old, you learn to honor your inner rhythm. If you pay attention and abide it, you gain. If you don’t, you lose. I obeyed. After two days if back and neck pain, I did only 20 minutes of aerobics this morning, some stretches and belly exercise, and then went home to write.

I had no idea what am I going to write about today. I had only the obligation to do so. I took out The New Testament. Maybe I will get an idea while reading it. But I didn’t have to. As soon as I set at my desk, I started to write about the human need for a reword and the way religion manipulates it. And while writing that, I got a heartbreaking scene, in which my 13 years old protagonist loses his trust in his father. It came from nowhere, as it does, but was tangible and dramatic.

Since I was so physically painful, and I also expected a visit of Moshe, my very dear friend, I did not edit today. I obeyed my inner rhythm, and instead of doing my daily work, I went out to my vegetable garden, weeded it a bit, and sowed coriander and dill.

Now, if you ever did that, you know that you get plenty of seeds of each, so I found myself sowing all over my yard, hoping that the rain, that is expected here by Saturday, will fill my yard with herbs.

Moshe came by. We know each other for 30 years, and share a lot together, but since my boys were born, we hardly had quality time together. Today we had. The boys were in the kindergarten, we were free of work, so we could talk and dine together with no interruption, and that was great.

Michael and Daniel came back home with a friend, as always, and we had a nice afternoon together. It is already few weeks that we have a great time together, and that makes me happy. Aside of morning irritations, such as ‘I am not going to the kindergarten today, Dad, because I am not allowed to bring my police car with me since it had batteries’, things are just fine.

I seem that the boys are getting mature. They are calmer, they conform with the house laws and do less mischief that they did before. I believe this change is motivated also by the fact that I am calmer, that I write every day, and that I am basically happy. This has its influence on them as well.

I do not know if, in the days that are left until my crowdfunding campaign I will get all the money I wanted to get. But I do appreciate a side effect achievement – along all the days since both my campaigns, in Israel and abroad, are running, I wrote and still write three times a day. This is my real reward, and I am sufficed with that. But if you do want to give me a hand in maintaining this blessed writing routine, you can go into my campaign and back it. Thanks.

And Thou, my Servant Jacob, Fear Not

Tuval: A Night Scene with Flash

After twenty minutes of meditation, I use the Hose Silva Method, I opened my eyes. The atmosphere at my living room was dense with entities. They were all around me like a thick transparent blanket of ghosts, and I heard a voice saying, and thou, Ilan, fear not because we are always with you. We are with you since your birth. We guard you and we lid you to your path, and all the calamities you have experienced in your past were aimed to bring you to the right path, to where you stand now, stable and happy and content. It is now that your success will be fulfilled and manifested.

I closed my eyes, set still for few moments and then opened them again. I felt that it is time for me to go out again, after many years I did not do it deliberately, to my astral voyages, and then figured out in an instance that I already do. That my daily writing is actually an astral voyage I resume each and every morning, that the current story I tell, the ones I have already told and those which are still waiting to be written through me are all fruits of astral projections. And that actually that is what I teach, as well.

In this very moment, while I write this post, I have a group of creative writing students in my house. We just had a lottery of sins. Each one of us got an identical piece of paper, wrote one of his greatest sins on it, and folded it. Each of us took one note from the box of sins and is now writing a confession of a sin that is not his sin as if he had committed it. This is a great writing assignment to teach them literature of confession with, and it soothes The Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur, the next Jewish most sacred day, that will occur next Saturday.

My writing and teaching are highly spiritual, even though I do not market it as such. This is because I teach what I practice. And I practice my own writing with a deep sense of belief, and live my life as a religious person, although I do not keep most of the Jewish laws. I am a Jew without religion, an unorthodox Jew, one that invents and defines, as a day to day matter, his own Jewishness, and rediscovers daily the power of belief.

This is what my protagonist does, as well. Actually, this is what the protagonists of my former novels, ‘When the Dead Return’ and ‘The Wife of a Jewish Pirate’ do as well. Each one of them defines Judaism and Jewishness, his belief and the power of believing. And this is no wonder, as I am the person who wrote them all.

Tuval: A Night Scene without Flash.

I had a strange day today. Yesterday night I went to bed only at 1 a.m. I spent an hour in ordering food from the local Supermarket so that I will now have to spend time and money by driving there. I woke too early when my sons sneaked into my bed and begun the morning with insufficient sleep.

I took my boys to the kindergarten, drove my Dad to the train station at Karmiel, got back home and did my daily gym training, and then wrote my daily piece. When finished, I edited 5 pages in one of the books I edit and fell asleep on my keyboard.

So I went to sleep at 12.00, got up at 13.30, had a meal and edited another 5 pages. This is my daily output. 10 pages of editing. I cannot edit more if I want to keep it focused and well tuned. And then I took Michael and Daniel together with a friend from the kindergarten to the football training, in which both boys did very well. And then they invited a girl home, and then I gave them a shower, anticipating what happened in a very short time – Michael fell asleep on the sofa, I had to take him to bed in my arms, Daniel follower, and I was so exhausted that I needed meditation to be able to handle the 11th meeting of my creative writing course, at home.

If you are gasping for air while reading it, imagine how tired I am. You can help me by backing up my crowdfunding campaign that is going to end soon.

Thanks,
Ilan.

Living in a Vacation Venue

it was this morning, while walking to the local post office, that I suddenly had this notion – I live in a vacation venue. Life here is not easy, due to the fact that the kibbutz is located high on the mountain, with no grocery shop, no medical center, no urban facilities. But at the same time, life here feels like a permanent vacation.

Maybe I felt it because of the odor, the deep odor of chopped grass, and of herbs, wet of dew or of early morning watering. Maybe it was the fact that I passed by the B&B rooms the kibbutz rent for tourists. It is the first houses that were built here. Small rooms with a kitchenette, a shower, and a toilet. Such was the dwelling here of the kibbutz pioneers. Today the members of the community live in huge houses, and their former rooms are rented for tourists.

This notion of living in a constant vacation got stronger as I went down the hill to the new train station of Karmiel. It was opened a few days ago, and today was my first travel on the new train.

The station is brand new. It is vast and clean. The train was clean as well, and the train stuff was affable. I took a sit, and read a manuscript of a novel one of my best friends wrote. I read it slowly, because i delighted in her Hebrew and the way she describes landscape, characters, and event, and also because I wanted to look at the view outside the train – the greenery of the Galilee, the sky, the sea, and celebrate the fact that I do not have to drive all this way to the train station in Acre, as I did so far.

I am so happy we moved from Tel Aviv to Tuval. This is probably the best thing I ever did, aside of giving birth to my sons. Before I have decided to become a father, and later a farmer, I was a gay single man, sailing my life from one monogamy to another, from one book to another, living in a small flat which is not entirely mine, in a constant feeling of dissatisfaction and stress. Today I am a father, a writer and a farmer. I live with my two sons in a huge house that is ours, and I thank God, my father and my good intuition for anything I have.

And the first thing I am thankful for is my writing ability. This is probably the best gift I ever got from God, aside from life itself. Writing for me is breathing, writing is therapeutic, imaginative and transformative. A day without writing is for me an unfulfilled day. Thus, I wrote today, even though I had barely 20 minutes to do that.

I had my morning gym session, and when finished I had to clean the house in honor of my father, who came all the way from Ramat Hasharon to take care of my sons while I will teach at Tel Aviv. And as I told my sons so many times, I honor my father, and because of that I always clean the house before he arrives.

This is what I did today, and after that, I had only 20 minutes before I had to hurry by car to the new train station of Karmiel so that I will get the 11.30 train to Tel Aviv. For few minutes I wondered should I really force myself into writing, while being in such a hurry. But then I answered myself positively. Of course, I must write before I leave home to Tel Aviv. My best and quickest writing session are being held on my typing machine, and if I will not type immediately, I will have to do long handwriting, which is fine, but usually, I do not get scenes in handwriting, but inner monologues. And I really do have enough of that.

So I took out the machine and wrote, very fast, two different texts. I began with what I have felt a few minutes earlier, after visiting the loo. The gratitude for having a fully functioning body. I wrote this, and that led me to the way my protagonist perceives his body and the dichotomy between his body and his soul. And then I recollected another issue I had in mind a few days ago, concerning my book, but didn’t write about it so far. So this morning I did.

And then I took the car to Karmiel, to where I ride the train now, on my way back home.

It was a long day, but a day full of gratitude and a sense of fulfillment. May all my days be the same. You can help it come true by backing me and my writing time at https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/a-single-gay-father-s-writing-retreat-lgbt#/.

Thanks,

Ilan.

Despair

when I look at him playing, celebrating his childhood, no despair exists.

Life, at least as I experience it, is living in a swing. Once I am up, once I am down. Yesterday I was up. Today I am down.

I can’t know for sure why. Basically, it’s my inner rhythmic cycles. I live my life as in Hassidism, in a constant change between expansion and condensation. I can always relate it to external events, such as the missed call I had from my bank branch this morning, while I was totally immersed in writing; The new PC technician who formatted my computer and then told me I must re-purchase licences for Windows and Office, an expense I was not ready for; The discovery that my dog did not pee in either of my two walks with her this morning peed and smeared it on the old mattress I use at our family playing corner; Or the short conversation with my gastro’s secretary, concerning the biopsy I had. She said that I do not have cancer or Helicobacter, but that my old Barret syndrome seems to be back. This is bad because now I will have to restart a diet without tomatoes, chocolate, watermelon, hot pepper, and without coffee and cigarettes. At least I lately bought myself a few packages of free-of-tobacco herbal cigarettes, which taste good. This might be a good start to quit smoking if I have to, and it seems I do.

I will probably talk to my doctor soon and know exactly what is going on. I still hope that maybe her secretary, who is also my facebook friend, read the former indication of my Barret syndrome as if it still exists. But this is a fool’s comfort. I must go back to where I stopped six years ago when I did everything I could to heal myself, including this diet. I have neglected it when I heard that my Barret syndrome is gone.

I wrote today. I started with my feeling of despair and got an amazing scene of the revelation on behalf of my protagonist. I could see this revelation with him, and see his response to that. This was extremely strong.

When I finished writing, I edited two section in the second book I edit for money, took my nap and then picked up my boys from the kindergarten. Daniel wanted to go out with me and our dog, Michael demanded that I will play football with him. I did both, of course. Afterwards, they invited a friend home, and played with him, grabbing a new pile of junk all the way from the community’s recycling place into their kingdom – the fenced part of my yard, in which the convertor, the heart of the central heat system is.

The boys went to sleep. I will begin reading my students’ written assignments for tomorrow’s meeting of our creative writing course. You may if you would like to, back me up in my crowdfunding campaign. Thank you for being my readers, good night.

P.S.

I am sorry if my straightforwardness causes you discomfort. A dear friend of mine wrote to me this morning, saying that I should not play the part of the victim or of the miserable person. Well, I am not. Please do not misinterpret my tone or my content. I am a very strong person, and if there is anything I detest is feelings of pity, when directed at me.

 

Tranquility

Being tired of hearing the words ‘Buy me,’ I made an agreement with Daniel. He goes over catalogues, cycles any new gadget he wants, and when his piggy bank will be full we will open it, count his money and choose to buy one of his most desirable object. The boy has an expensive taste, though.  

There is no price for the tranquility I felt today. I called my Dad, to thank him for making my happiness possible, by helping us to move here from Tel Aviv.

“Hi Dad, I only wanted to tell you how happy I am and thank you again,” I said.

“I know, and I am happy for that,” he answered.

Later this day I wrote a similar conversation between my protagonist and his father. He thanked him for the revelation he had enforce on him when he was young – the fact that he is Jewish, not Catholic. He also thanked him for the consequences of this on his life. His father showed him how this blessing might turn into a curse, if he will not rethink about the rout he took, on his way to salvation. But my protagonist is a tough guy; he cannot avoid his deepest desires, and thus continue on his way to his form of salvation – self destruction.

Before and even more after I finished writing I was so happy and content, that nothing could change it. My financial situation; the fact that I called a PC technician here just to find out that my computer did not work earlier this morning not because of power familiar but because I mistakenly switched its on/off button; My dog’s morning escape from home until I caught her by the help of hot-dog seduction; I ran out of eggs for my daily omelet this morning, but cooked a delicious Humus and chard omelet instead; The Steeper in the local gym did not work, so I went jogging in the kibbutz instead of walking on a machine; and the terrible noise of military aircraft, going to and through over Tuval, on a regular training or a special task, who knows.

I wrote, I used a half an hour time spot to sow in my yard, met my naturopath and had two editing sessions on a book I edit, with excellent outcome. I even played football with Michael and Daniel, cooked an Arabic local dish of lentils (Majadra), gave them a shower and read them a section of the Encyclopedia for Children, an explanation about clay, pottery and its use in the history of mankind.

This was a fantastic day. I hope tomorrow will be the same. It pretty much depends on my crowdfunding campaign. In 1^st of October I will have to re-balance my bank accounts. I have no idea how I will do it without your support. And this has the potential to shutter my tranquility and stop me from writing. I hope you will avoid it by backing me up.

Ilan.

 

Dad is Permitted to be Tired

Michael took our selfi today

This evening I was so tired, That I could hardly move. Michael wanted to play football with me. He is very good in that. And I really have no clue where did he learn that. Probably from Super Strikas, one of his favorite TV series. I told him I am extremely tired, although I slept 2.5 hours at noon. We had guests who left us less than an hour before.

Michael insisted. Daniel went to the local playground with our neighbor twins, a year younger than my boys. and Michael wanted to have time with his dad. But I really couldn’t. I sowed broccoli the front part of my vegetable garden. So he throws his ball at me and then stones.

“Michael’ please stop it,” I said, “I will play with you when I am finished with this.”

I finished sowing, I watered the ground and came to the road to play with him. He showed me how he plays and asked me to try and get the ball. I couldn’t. The boy is smart and fast and manipulative. He will make a great football player very soon.

I have two male sisters. One is Eran, who lives in Toronto. The second is Oren who lives in Sonoma, San Fransisco Bay. Today, Oren and his friend Rick came to visit us. So I cleaned the house, I put the children’s playing room in order, cooked Harreima, a Tripolitan dish of spicy fish, and set a table in-home and at the yard.

Meeting Oren is always empowering. We know each other since I was 23 years old and he was 20. And we’re friends since then.  Oren is working in the field of VTS, Visual Thinking Strategies, both in Israel and in the U.S. VTS is the result of more than 20 years of collaboration between cognitive psychologist Abigail Housen, veteran museum educator Philip Yenawine, and their colleagues.

Oren is the sweetest unjudgemental person in the world. I love him deeply and was really happy to meet him and show him our new way of living, and our house. What I didn’t know is that Oren Knew Tuval since its very beginning, because he was a member of the Nahal brigade which established Tuval back in the 1980’s.

Oren met here with Kitchie, the head of the educational system in Tuval, and his old-days friend, and we had a lot of fun.

But after Oren and his friend Rick, a marine biology researcher left, I was exhausted, and I had to write. So I told my boys that I must write in order to get to my senses, and that’s what I did. I took my typing machine to the yard and wrote a scene. Again, I had no need to think about it. All I had to do is ask how the wife of my protagonist responded to the terrible surprise he prepared for her, and what else did he do at that very same day, that made her so full of rage. The scene was written without effort, and then Daniel, who got bored, and did not succeed in convincing me to drive to the near village of Yarka, to ‘My Baby’ playing ground, went to the local playground, and I and Michael stayed home.

In the end of the day, all three of us chopped vegetables for soup, but instead of having soup the boys asked for semolina porridge ‘with surprises’ (chocolate pieces I put inside and let them dig it with a spoon). We then have a bath, and when they got out of the bath I couldn’t even stand on my feet, so I lay down on my bed, telling them that they may come and sleep with me in my bed.

Michael was the first to enjoy it. He laid by my side. I hugged him. “I love you very Much, Michael,” I said.

“I love you too Dad,” he answered. “I love you even when I am angry with you.”

“I always love you,” I replied.

“I will love you even when you will be dead.”

“I love you not only because you are my child,” I continued, “but because you are beautiful. wise and gifted boy.”

Daniel stood near the bed. He saw us hugging and talking sweet things to each other.

“Hey, this is not fair, I also want to lay near you, Dad.”

“O.K., so I will move to the center of the bed. Come on, you have plenty of space here,” I answered.

Daniel laid down in my right, Michael at my left. I hugged them both, each one with one hand, and closed my eyes, breathing heavily, snoring, until they fell asleep.

This is the way I gather myself. This is also my trick to make them sleep. And when they did, I kissed both of them for good night and went downstairs, to write you my daily post.

It was only then that I have discovered that my desktop computer doesn’t work. It seems that the restart button is not functioning. I will have to take it to my neighbor technician tomorrow. I am lucky to have a portable pc as well.

Good night, and do not forget to back me up at Indiegogo. You can do it here. Thanks.

https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/a-single-gay-father-s-writing-retreat-lgbt#/

Time and Dogs are Running Away

After few days in her new status, a home-dog, my dog just ran away. I went outside to bring my typing machine home so that it will not get rust because of the heavy dew here, and my clever dog seized the opportunity and ran away. The irony is that only today I talked about her in our community New Year’s Eve service. I said that she grew up, showed her nature as a shepherd dog, chasing men and cars and that because of that I have decided to raise her at home and asked the forgiveness of the community’s members who might have been annoyed by her behavior. It will take me hours to bring her back home.

I understand her. She is a mixture of Pyrenees and Merryman. She is only eleven months old but is very big. White and big and with a deep sense of territory. She can not stay home all day. I will have to fence a part of my yard and let her live in it. I will probably do it soon. If not, I will have to send her back to her place of born, my Cousin’s pens in the Golan Heights.

This was the third day of vacation. We woke up and I could see that we can not stay home. The boys started to fight each other and annoy me as well. I ran away to the Gym, to cool my nerves. They followed me. After half an hour of aerobics and some stretches, I told that we will go to the new railway station of Karmiel. I wanted to get my three-months-free-ticket. The railway station was opened two days ago, and wall the residents of the area get w three-months-free-tickets and a grace period, and that a reduction of 50% in ticket rates for the next two years.

The boys wanted to take the train to Acre. I agreed. But when we got there we have found out that the train station is closed, due to the holiday.

Instead, I took them to the local Family Park. Unfortunately, it was closed as well.

We crossed the road to a tiny playground. The played there for about 15 minutes before starting to harass each other out of pure boredom.

I could not stand it anymore. So I took them to the shopping center of Karmiel, to buy me a newspaper and dairy products. And I have found that all the stores are closed…

We went to the village, bought dairy products and got back home.

By this time we were all exhausted. so we had an early meal and went to sleep.

In the afternoon we had the community event for Rosh Hashana. We gathered together, sang few songs accompanied my Davidi’s saxophone, and then three members of the community talked about their past year.

I was the first out of the three, all writers. I talked about the decision to leave Tel Aviv and move to Tuval. thanked the members of the community for their warmth and support, and then said what I said about the dogs. My friend Guy talked next and Maya was the third speaker. We then had few community games, and had a special supper together – each family brought its food and we shared it all.

I prepared pizza, as I thought that this will be something good to share with the members, especially the kids.

It was a special event for me. Michael and Daniel ran around, doing mischief. I talked with neighbors I did not have the opportunity to meet until today.

I do not know how exactly, but I also managed to write today. I grabbed half an hour, told my sons that I must write, sat outside and continued from where I stopped writing yesterday. I did not have to think. I had a very clear ‘knowledge’ about what happened next. My protagonist had no other choice but to do what I saw in my mind – A dreadful decision that will completely shatter the life of him and his wife.

Writing for me is channeling. I do not think about what I write. I simply sit in front of my typing machine, put a blank page inside and start playing its keys. Many years ago I used to lit a candle before I started to write. It seems I do not need it anymore. Here, in the Galilee, I am naturally tuned to the flow. All I have to do is sit. The universe does the rest.

I am writing with no effort. All I need is writing time. This is the reason I started my crowdfunding campaign. I hope you will help me achieve it in the last few days that are left before the campaign will end. If not, I will have no choice but sell my precious time again for creative writing workshops, editing books of other writers, etc, instead of writing my own. This is not a very good prescription for happiness, and thus I ask you to back me up.

Thank you in advance,

Ilan.

The Cat, The Lion and The Lamb

Yesterday night my youngest brother called me. He said that he and his family will celebrate New Year’s Eve at his wife’s sister, in Harduf, an anthroposophic kibbutz close to where we live, and asked if they can spare the drive back late at night and spend the night at hour place.

“Of course!” I answered, “My house is yours too. Come and stay with us.”

My brother Aviv is 10 years younger than me. He and his wife Hagit have three kids. Sarel, their oldest daughter, didn’t come, but the two others, Ori and Klil, did. And when I wake up Michael and Daniel were already playing with their cousins outside.

I went to the nearest village to buy bread and vegetables for breakfast, and after breakfast, my brother dropped his plans to take his family for a trip in the Galilee. Instead. We spent some time together, Aviv, Hagit and me, while the kids went out again for few hours, showing the kibbutz to their cousins.

Aviv told me about an interesting meeting he had with a pious Christian lady, and about their conversation on the Christian symbols of the lion and the lamb. He talked about his concept of God and belief in God and asked me if I know anything about Christianity. I smiled. “This is exactly the theme of my next novel,” I told him. “The relationships between Judaism and Christianity in the 17th century. I read many books about Christianity and Jewdaism those days.”

We talked, and then they rested, taking the opportunity to read a newspaper and a book. I had other things on my mind. I emptied the swimming pool, in order to dismantle it and pack it until next summer. I want to sow new grass where it stood. Then I weeded the grass. I uprooted a whole bag of grass off my garden.

“I remember you gardening when you were in the youth movement,” my brother said. He made me happy. All of a sudden I had a recollection of something I absolutely forgot about.

When I was a guide in the youth movement, I initiated the making of a vegetable garden in its yard. I saw it as an excellent opportunity to teach the kids ideals as cooperation, Equality and the importance of work.

Unfortunately, at the same time, the new private country club of Ramat Asharon opened, very close to where the youth movement building was. Each and every Saturday I had to fight with the kids I educated to come and work in our communal vegetable garden instead of going to the swimming pool.

I lost the battle. The building that was a bustling youth movement’s center was sold. No youth movement activity is being held there. The country club still stands in place.

But I got back to farming. After forty years of city life, which I spent mainly among books, I became a farmer again, on a small scale though, in my own vegetable garden. And that feels great.

While my brother and sister in law read, I cleaned the house and wrote my daily piece. My characters surprised me again. I began writing thinking about the way my protagonist is totally absorbed in his reading. I saw his wife troubled by this. She tried to talk him out of his study but in vain. Then she found out that whenever their 3 years old daughter is hurt, her husband leaves his books and pay attention to his family.

Out of this revelation, a dark story emerged. I typed it very fast, and when I finished, I gazed at myself amazed. I could not imagine that the novel I write will take such a turn.

This is the magic of writing. You sit every day without a hint of what is going to be written through your hands. Sometimes you have an opening sentence, sometimes it’s only an image. But if you sit and write without censoring yourself, without questioning why your character is doing this or that, a story is being unfolded under your hands.

*

At noontime I drove to the village again, to buy meat for the barbeque. Michael preferred to stay home with our guests. I took only Daniel with me. This was a special event, as it was the very first time Daniel and I spent time together without his brother. Such is the life of twins with a single parent. They hardly find time to spend alone with their parent.

He got into the car in barefoot. So when we went to the butcher and to the Humus restaurant I had to lift him in my arms, hugging him and kissing him again and again. He enjoyed it a lot and asked me to buy him a popsicle. I suggested that he will choose popsicles to all our guests and his brother. He agreed, on one condition – that I will not tell them that. This will be his surprise, his sweet secret.

We got back home. Daniel walked into the house with something hidden under his shirt.
“Look, Daniel is pregnant!” O cheered, using this second of distraction to hide the popsicles in the freeze.

After the meal, the kids went out again. They took Gilon, one of our cats, with them, and forgot to bring him back home. It took some time until Micahel discovered that his cat is lost, and burst into tears. I went with him to the place where they left him and tried to find him, but could not see him anywhere.

“I am sure he will come back home'” I told Michael. “If not, I will search after him again.”

Michael fell asleep at 17.30. He is still sleeping. Daniel woke up from his evening nap, and we both went to search after the cat. Daniel found him, and we came upstairs, to Michael. We told him that his brother found his cat, and put the cat on his bed.

Daniel asked me if we can do something together. I suggested that we will bake a cake. He preferred cleaning my coffee machine. “whenever I am asked to do dished in the kindergarten I do it perfectly, Dad,” he said – and washed my machine.

I praised him for that and hugged him again. I offered to read him only a story. I read him the book he chose and set near his bed until he fell asleep.

I am sitting at my desk for the very first time today. Exhausted but satisfied. I achieved a lot today. Especially with Daniel. And I am very happy for that.

I have only 17 days left until my crowdfunding campaign will come to an end. I will be thankful if you will back it.

I started it in order to get some more writing time. When you are a gay single father, who must provide his sones, time is money, and when work and writing rival, work always prevails. Any sum of money you donate buys me the precious gift of writing time. Thank you for providing me with that.