Encountering the dead (at the) end, pursuing lines of flight

On the 20th and  the 21st of February 2019, we visited the Gaza Envelope region. It is a territory bordering the Gaza Strip which suffers from the ongoing state of war between Israel and Gaza. The intent was to look for, and intensify local potentials for transformation, and perhaps participate in de/re- territorializaion.



In a search for those potentials we started with the region's natural resort, and headed to Eshkol National Park. Walking its land, crushing its soil and naively climbing its dunes we immediately encountered with an all encompassing death.


Sitting for meditation was beyond imagination, and most of our energies were invested in dealing with death while staying alive.

Exhausted and disturbed we left the national park on our way to our zimmer. Every few tens of meters we saw mobile shelters scattered around.




On the next day, we made a pilgrimage to the wall between Israel and Gaza - literally "the end of Israel", and joined the project of "the path for peace" by gluing one of the settler's colored stones made of clay, on the 4 meter high cement wall.

There was no relief.
One the contrary, death wouldn't let go of, it presented itself in continuous manner.
It felt a dead --- end.
Nothing moved.
Neither words nor thoughts came about.
It felt the oppression of the event: death hugs you while you try to survive.

A part in me was looking for a difference. It found an interstice in the wall (where life might lurk), and glued an assortment of local stones to it.

Only then a shift was felt. The deadening feeling changed for a pulling heavy sad.
We were freed from the hug of death. Some movement commenced,
and it was possible to breathe again .


Charged with these feelings we headed east to the desert for cleansing in a hope for finding some peace within a different landscape, wishing it would enable us pursuing lines of flight.

We were hiking during the day and sleeping in mud huts during night. The rocks the stones and the air of the Negev desert were brushing our feathers, some relief was felt.
Unfortunately that wasn't enough. The heaviness of the sad did not clear off.

It accompanied us for a few more days. Upon our return home I felt restless, and couldn't sit for meditation. Only days latter  I was able sit for a short while releasing some of the heaviness of the sad.
By today, while sitting at the anemone grove I encountered the open. It felt it was only my first visit to the wall on the border. I saw climber plants growing on the wall in pots of clay made by us.