nomadic wandering in India

I am writing to you from my parents home in Grass Lake, Michigan, where I arrived last thursday. Less than a week before I returned it was unconceivable that, still in good health, I would come home so soon. There was only one event that could have changed my path so dramaticly, and that was, of course, losing my violin.

 

It is gone. Stolen from my hands on a roadside in Punjab. The only object in the world that I was attached to. My vessel for making children smile, for expressing my soul. My companion whom for eight years I took care of like a child, whom I spent more time with than anyone, who stayed with me through high school, college, and all my travels. Countless hours of frustration, passion, sadness, and utter bliss I poured into my violin. A channel to connect to Hashem, connect to other like-minded musicians, and connect with people i was blessed enough to play music for. This was and still is a very difficult loss.

 

However, this was not a tragedy. In fact, it was a good thing. Through this loss, I have realized how dependant I was on my violin and I have had to build strength deep inside my being that I never needed before. Whenever I was going through a difficult time in my life I emptied my emotions into my violin. It was my crutch, and out of fear I never conceived of what I would do without it. But while my soul's voice is now weak it is growing every moment.

 

The other good news is that before I left New York my friend gave me a viola. So I have new life now on a different instrument, and can once again share Hashem's incredible gift of music with the world.

 

So how did I end up on the side of the road in Punjab? I will go back to my first adventures in India starting about two months ago.

 

I arrived in Delhi, stayed for a few days with family friends in Chandigarh, and then headed to the Himalayas. I stopped first in Kullu where there was a huge one week Hindu festival happening. People from three hundred surrounding villages came, carrying on their shoulders a flower-draped shrines to their villages' God. Together, all 300 reenacted an ancient battle between good and evil. When I needed a break from the festival chaos, I hiked to the tops of the surrounding mountains passing the most stunning rural mountain communities. Mud hut farms and women, like ants, carrying bails of hay three times their size. Each of the mountain tops had a Hindu temple on its peak and a few holy men smoking Shiva grass (take an educated guess) which grows wild on all the mountain sides. There I layed in the grass while eagles flew 15 feet over my head searching for food below.

 

After Kullu, I continued higher into the mountains stopping at Vashisht, a small town with sulphur springs and more Hindu priests. There I purchased a sleeping bag, hiking boots, and a tarp tent for almost nothing and started up a mountain. After six hours of grueling upward climb well past the snow line, the sun was setting and I had almost reached the peak. So I quickly set up my camp and spent an absolutely frigid 12 hours hiding in my sleeping bag, too afraid to even go out and see the stunning view of the stars. Morning came and I could still feel my toes, the sun warming everything to a comfortable temperature. I was in the most incredible place I had ever seen, alone but for a few wild horses. 360 degrees of jutting snowy peaks and lush green valleys, cascading rivers and distant villages, complete silence. A childhood dream now realized.

 

I continued on to Dharamsala, in the foothills of another part of the same mountain range. Here I would spend the most life-changing five weeks I may ever experience. After camping a couple days a few hours up from the town, I decided to go a bit further just for the day. Another four hours hiking up and I reached Triund, a flate green plateau where I would spend the next three weeks. There was a small chai shop and a two room guest house on the plateau which served the tourists who hiked up there. Aside from that there was nothing. No roads, no running water, no electricity, not even an outhouse. The man who owned the chai shop offered to let me eat there and sleep on the floor of the shop in exchange for helping him with the work and the occasional violin lesson. So I stayed on this plateau from which you could see 60 miles out into the plain of India in one direction, and a line of mamoth glacier peaks in the other. Shanti. (Peaceful). The extremely pronounced horizon line made the cities below look like an underworld at night. And the sunsets and moonrises blew my mind with their colors and intensity. Otherworldliness.

 

I washed dishes from a bowl of water in the grass; learned to cook dal, vegetables, noodles, omlets, and of course, chai; opened and closed shop; carried 25 liter tanks of water from a nearby spring and found a new passion for playing American folk and bluegrass tunes. But after one week I went down, itching to continue travelling. The following day, exuberant after finding out that Obama had won and for the first time truly proud to say I was American, I was helping an old lady gather wood when a man passed by my campsite. I was not so far away but I could not see my things and when I went back to my tent I noticed that my wallet, ipod, and phone were gone. My world turned upside down. I had not a single rupee and no way to get any money at all. This was one of the biggest blessings of my life.

 

After spending a couple hours reflecting, I realized that I didn't need what I'd lost and many other things as well. I went to a nearby village and gave away everything I owned except for my passport, my violin, a jacket which I later traded for a blanket, sandals, a toothbrush, my journal, a needle and thread, and the clothes on my back. Then I hiked back up the mountain and worked two more weeks at the chai shop. Having removed these layers from my consciousness, I spent my time looking at what was left and I found many things that I wanted to improve. I worked on building a peaceful core inside my being, training my mind to control my thoughts and my body and not vice versa (nervous habits, anxiety, cold, hunger, lust, etc) I tried to eliminate my dependancy on mirrors and clocks, freeing myself from time and physical appearance. I examined my selfish and judgemental thoughts and actions and worked to find compassion for those I previously despised, and most of all I built courage and faith in the universe (Hashem) that I could survive without any money or back up plan. And so I descended onto the plain of India with no destination but south.

 

The next two weeks were one blissful moment to the next.  I was given a place to sleep every single night. I was offered chai and food to the point that I was turning it down. I played music in the street and made 500 rupees ($10) in a few hours, enough money to last me 20 days. I woke up every day in good health. Every bite, every step, every single moment became the greatest blessing. Now having nothing, I was truly able to appreciate everything. 

 

First I spent a few more days in Dharamsala meditating at the Dalai Lama's temple, another incredibly shanti place, and was able to catch a brief glimpse of him coming out of his home. Then I started walking and hitch hiking, catching most of my hitches from tractors. At this speed I was really able to experience rural India--rich soil farms, wide glistening rivers, small one road towns with smiling children waiting for the morning school bus, a baba who coated his entire body with a muddy ash mixture. I felt weightless, like a feather just blowing in the wind, landing wherever Hashem desired.

 

I arrived at the Golden Temple in Amritsar, the holy pilgramage site for Sikhs. Anyone who wants to can eat and sleep there for free regardless of religion or class, and they serve 35,000 meals every day! The entire operation is run by volunteers, so I spent a couple hours every day chopping ginger and peeling mounds of garlic with groups of old men and women. The rest of the time I was meditating or walking around the Gurudwara (temple) which is in the middle of a large pool of water, listening to the prayers sung inside the temple. Sikhism is a religion that originated in India/Pakistan about 500 years ago, that believes in one God, Waheguru, and the equality of all men regardless of class or race. Laziness and selfishness are the most undesirable traits for Sikhs and they stick to closely to those beliefs.

 

I was there at the Golden Temple during the Mumbai attacks and I called my parents to let them know that I was ok, having no idea I would see them in just a few days.

 

From Amritsar I continued south, again receiving the hospitality of a king everywhere I went. My plan was to wander all the way to the beaches in the south, roughly 1500 miles, just following my intuition and the universe's constant road signs. But two days later I found myself in Ferozepur, near the Pakistan border, playing violin for some young children by the side of the road. Three guys my age stopped and offered to give me lift on their motorcycle. A few miles down the road they pulled to the side and we all got off. Here they grabbed my violin and jumped back on their bike before I could stop them, laughing as I was on my knees pleading for them to stop. My passport was in the case.

 

I cannot remember ever being so wild-eyed hysterical in my life. I ran after them for a couple miles trying to stop cars before, in exhaustion, I realized in was futile in this state of mind. I calmed down and eventually made it to the police, a deep hole in my stomach as I came to grips with the fact that would never see my violin again. It turned out that I was in much more danger than that. I was a foreigner with no passport or I.D. passing through the main drug smuggling border with Pakistan, having come somewhat mysteriously from Dharamsala, the biggest destination for those drugs, and looking like a crazed deshevalled mess. But by the grace of Hashem, my friend in Chandigarh sent his wealthy, influential friend to the police station to save me from the Indian "Guantanamo," or so my friend said.

 

I went straight to Chandigarh where I found out that my passport had been found by the railway tracks later that evening. I considered whether to continue travelling, but realized that it would take time for me to recover from losing my violin. I let go of my southward dreams, admitted that I was not yet strong enough to continue, and two days later I was on a plane to Michigan.

 

All is well. I am in good health, it is a truly a blessing to have this time to spend with my incredible family, and my Mom got me a roundtrip ticket from India thinking it was the same price as a one way. So India is on pause, for maybe a year or so. Until then, I hope to see all of you and reconnect. I would like to spend a couple months in the Big Apple and also do a trip around the U.S. this coming year, so insha'allah (God willing!) I will be able to give you all a big huge some time soon, if you can recognize me.

 

Shalom v'ahava (peace and love),

Lev

 

P.S. if you want to see pictures from the first two months of my trip in Israel, Jordan, and Egypt (before I sent my camera home) click here: http://picasaweb.google.com/leventermusic/NomadicWandering#

this week in palestine

I spent the past week traveling through the West Bank. Every day was packed full of amazing stories and experiences which I wish the entire world had the opportunity to see. Traveling without a camera, the best I can do is to share them with you through words, which I hope will help us all to understand the nature of life within the walls of Palestine. 

The entire week I did not spend a single shekel. I visited friends and families from the peace gathering that I went to a month ago, and despite their economic strife (30% unemployment and 60% below the poverty line) every meal, every drink, every bus ride, every night out, even my cigarettes were paid for by my hosts. I was welcomed into their homes like a long lost brother. I was not allowed to lift a finger. 
To experience this kindness in the face of the virtual prison in which they live, which my government essentially helped to build, just blew me away. 

About the prison:
Every city and road is surrounded by a tall barbed wire fence or a 20 foot wall. Each road going in and out of a city passes through a military checkpoint which stops every car, checks each I.D, and sometimes harasses Palestinian passengers for hours before letting them pass. For almost all Palestinians, leaving the West Bank is impossible, for many of them leaving their city to see close family members is impossible. The neighborhoods near the walls are silent. The businesses are closed and there is no life on the streets. In most cities military vehicles patrol the streets every night. 

The normalcy of violence, especially for the children, is absolutely unbelievable. One of the  friends I visited was a 17 year old kid who grew up in Jenin, the major breeding ground for suicide bombers and freedom fighters until after the 2nd  Entifada (uprising) from 2000 to 2004. Instead of pictures of girls or cars on his computer, it is full of pictures dead bodies--some burned beyond recognition, some in parts, etc--each of which he knows by name. The streets are filled with posters of martyrs holding automatic weapons. Half the toys sold in the streets are fake m16 rifles. I remember drawing countless pictures of basketball games as a child, while children here draw countless pictures of tanks and destroyed houses. 

At this point, you may want to know how on earth I felt safe in this place.  At times I didn't, but most of the time I felt fine. It certainly helped to have friends everywhere I went. But most importantly I was armed with weapons of my own. Whenever I felt like I was in an uncomfortable situation, instead of wallowing in fear, I approached people with a smile and a greeting in Arabic. Immediately, all tension was dissapated.They asked me my name, where I was from, and if I liked George Bush. The correct answer to the latter question instantly made me their habibi (an endearing word for friend). My second weapon I had was the knowledge of Arabic music, which I played in the streets drawing crouds of thankful observers. 

Perhaps the most uncomfortable moment came when I was in Hevron. My jewish friend and I left our Arab friends at a checkpoint inside the city to visit the jewish side of a Synagoge/Mosque in which Abraham, Jacob, and many other prophets are buried. Abraham  is an especially holy figure for Muslims, second only to Mohamed. So the tomb was placed in the middle of the Synagogue/Mosque, which is divided by a metal barrier. Each side has two windows looking into the tomb, so that as I prayed I could see I could see Muslims on the other side also praying. This is as close to each other as the Jews and the Palestinians get within the walls of the West Bank. 
The uncomfortable moment came when I tried to reenter the Muslim side of the city. With my friends standing just on the other side of the fence, the Israeli soldiers stopped us and asked if we were jewish. Without thinking I answered yes. With that, he said we could not reunite with our friends because it would mean certain death. They would pull a knife when I wasn't looking, or someone would certainly shoot us. After arguing for 10 minutes, with the soldier threatening to put us in jail, our friends across the fence signaled for us to walk to a different checkpoint, where we were able to pass. Our friends met us there and paid for our cab back to their home. 
No one stabbed or shot me. What my friends did do was take me to an extravagant dinner to break the fast, then to a nargile (hookah) cafe, then to their friends house for dessert, then for a tour of his fathers plastic bag factory, and finally to his home to sleep. Again, I did not pay for a single thing. 

What do I mean by fast? Well, basically the entire month of September was a Muslim holiday called Ramadan. I observed the last 9 days with my hosts, not eating, drinking anything or smoking from 4am to 7pm every day. The general point of which is to learn to be humble and thankful for the incredible gifts of this world. Each time the first sip of water went down my throat I felt my body restored, and I felt a supreme appreciation for life and a good health.    

Anyhow, I could write ad nausium about this one week of my life. Hopefully someday I will have the time to. However, I leave tomorrow morning for India! Ironically, it was an incredibly frustrating two week delay in getting my Visa for India that made this trip possible. It has become impossibly evident to me that there are no coincidences, that everything happens just as it is supposed to, even if it is difficult to see at times. 

So, I wish you all the best and I love you very much. Also, today is the Jewish new year so shana tova (happy new year) to you all. Next time time from India Insha'allah (God willing)! 

Shalom v'ahava,

Lev

Sulha peace gathering

this past week I spent at a peace gathering with over 1000 Israelis and Palestinians. It almost brings me to tears just thinking and writing about this experience. I heard some of the most horrifying stories of loss and suffering from both sides of the conflict, things that you hear about on the radio but cannot really conceive of in reality. A group of neighborhood children killed in senseless cross fire, a mother who lost both of her sons on the same day, a son whose father lost both of his legs and then committed suicide, a man who saw three of his brothers stalked and killed within a month. To see these victims looking for peace, not as an ideal, but as an act of desparation was the most beautifulthing that I have ever seen. 

We ate meals together, slept together every night on thin foam mattresses in 200 person tents, shared arabic melodies and jewish songs, danced arm over arm for hours every night, taught each other arabic, hebrew, and english, and survived intense heat each day.

I am at a loss for words, honestly. I am at the same time horrifyed by the ugliness of humankind, and inspired by thecourage these people have to come together. Their ability to overcome intense lifelong fears, fears ingrained by ignorant societial understandings,  government controlled media, and terrifying experiences with war, and reach across the barbed wire electric fence brick wall to say shalom/salaam/peace was beyond amazement.

 

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Other happenings the last three weeks:

Got my bag, passport, poetry journal, and peruvian flute stolen in Jerusalem. Not so important--nothing I can't live without! Though I would have rather lost my ipod/camera/wallet because they are more replaceable. Gave my suitcase, most of my clothes, and shoes to charity and sent my valuables home. Camped for a night on the Jordan river with Arab-Israelis, which included an interrogation from the IDF (Israel Defence Forces) that ended peacefully baruch Hashem (thank God). Three crazy nights at an adrenaline rush klezmer festival in the ancient city of Tsfat. Every street packed, 9 stages, jams on every corner, and dancing until my sandal broke in another place (a shoe mendor fixed it somewhat). A mini-rainbow gathering in the valley of the goddess for the lunar eclipse. Had countless hours of conversation only in Hebrew, ironically mostly with Arabs who didn't know any English. Slept on the bare earth every night the past two weeks. Got better at making a fire wherever I was and cooking vegetables in it. Perhaps did not always smell so rosy . . . but certainly enjoying showers when available. Missing my family and friends, while also getting excited to go to India September 18th!

 

Shalom v'ahava lekulam (peace and love to everyone),

Lev

shedding skin

I have been shedding skin everywhere I go. One of my aspirations for this trip was to free myself from material possessions. For a while I felt a little frustrated that I couldn't mentally let go of having money, clothes, electronics, etc. Tel Aviv was somewhat of a miserable lonely experience--I thought I could stay with friends but that didn't work out, and in general it is just like a modern, shallow, Western European city, except without any fascinating history. 

In addition, the youth hostels there are rediculously expensive. So after a few days in one of them I decided to put my bags in a locker and sleep on the beach. I stopped taking any money out and when I needed food I played violin in the street. I realized that, though this new found independence felt amazing, I needed to get out of Tel Aviv. I dropped the Hebrew class I was taking before committing to it, bought a teach yourself book instead, and hitch hiked north. 

I got picked up by these hippie rainbow guys who run tea shops at festivals and parties. After working, and playing music with them for a few days at this incredible Israeli dance festival, I went on ahead to Zfat to take a free course on Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism) on the campus of the organization I worked for at the beginning of the summer. There I learned that my last name is a combination of lev=meaning heart in Hebrew, and "enter;" that I was born the morning of the first day of passover, the Jewish holiday celebrating freedom; I learned the uplifting power of eliminating negative thoughts and actions from my life, and I realized that music is the highest expression of my soul, and that my purpose in life is to share this incredible gift and try to achieve this level of spirituality in all aspects of my life.

Tomorrow I am leaving my suitcase and most of my stuff and hitching to a student community in the desert outside of Jerusalem to meet other people I met hitch hiking, but who knows if that's where I'll end up. . . 
 

I cannot tell you how good it feels to be freeeee!

Other activities in the last couple weeks: learning to read, write, speak, and understand hebrew (albeit slowly), cooking all my meals, and watching amazing sunsets.

So, I think I may be traveling for long time. A ticket to India is unbelievably cheap from Amman, Jordan. I think I'll hit that up in a month or two.

 

Shalom v'ahava,

Lev

Shaaalom! 07/2008

So it has been a while since I last wrote!

To wrap up cairo:

I went to a concert every night (traditional egyptian, funk, reggae, egyptian rock, nubian), met some incredible musicians,  jammed every night, slept every day (cause its too damn hot to do anything anyway), played a couple songs with an egyptian popstar "ruby" (similar to "britany"), recorded some tracks for dj samba (check him out on myspace), played with nubian musicians at this park on the nile (pronounced neel), took a couple lessons with arabic violin master alfred gamil, and almost stayed for a really long time (I was there for 10 days).

 

But I left because i wanted to go back to Israel and work on a kibbutz, and because Cairo is just too nuts of a place to stay for very long.

On my way I climbed Mt. Sinai, the peak of which is the quietest place I have ever been. With the stars incredibly bright I almost felt like I was in outer space.

 

Neot Semadar (the kibbutz):

wake up at 5am 6 days a week, work until 1pm (with a breakfast break) which among other things included picking apples, pears, plums, figs, olives; making/bottling juice, jam, olives, olive oil, dolce de leche (milk jam) and fruit leather; sorting fruit and packaging it for sale; doing construction work on fountains (laying stones, paving, etc), cooking vegetarian meals;  cleaning algae from man made ponds; and working in the kibbutz's restaurant. Then we ate lunch. The afternoon was for sleeping because it is too hot do anything, and we continued to work again from 5 to 8.

It was basically a small zen communist community/cult with silent meals every day and an interesting improv dance in white on shabbat (sabbath). The mindless repetitive nature of the work (putting labels on jars for two hours) was really meditative and my experience of time was very calming. It was hard not knowing hebrew because very few group conversations were in english, though almost everyone could speak decent english. But this motivated me to learn the language which have been doing very quickly.

 

So I moved on, needed to get back to a big city. Tel Aviv is supposedly the New York of Israel, even though it only has like 600,000. I plan to be here for at least a month so I can take very inexpensive course on hebrew, find the music scene, hang with some musicians I know from my university, and experience urban/secular Israel.

 

shalom v'ahava,

Lev

Salaam alaykum from Cairo! 06/2008

I'm in the crazy capital of the Arab world. Its like NYC on steroids with traffic, honking, extreme poverty/wealth, pollution, nightlife. . . i'm really loving it! I went to a great concert in a park last night by a famous egyptian  rock/fusion band playing plus a fantastic traditional arabic band. Met some of the musicians after the concert and went out. Set up a couple jam sessions for this week. sweet!
I spent a couple days walking around, talking and drinking tea with some shop owners. There is hardly any middle class and the poor are incredibly oppressed by the Mubarek the "president" who essentially has dictatorial power. The only way to work your way up is to lie, cheat . . . play the game. And even though much of the city is secular, muslim values are very important to most egyptians. Even in the poorest neighborhoods there  is very little threat of getting robbed, etc. 

Anyhow, i spent all last week in sinai. staying in a hoosha (bamboo hut) on the beach for $4/night. was hard to leave . . . sat under the same tree for 5 days, like an oasis in my life. Amazing. I was planning on going to the nile (southern egypt) this week but probably won't happen cause I want to be back in Israel by the end of the month.
Well, that's it for now. going to go see some sufi dancing/music!

shalom v'ahava,

Lev