Beach in November

Who says that the beach in November is a dreary place? Not I!

Sarah's Birthday Party

Family and friends gathered to join me in celebrating my 31st birthday. It was a gorgeous day, and we went out to Georges Island in the Boston Harbor for a beautiful afternoon.

Shambhala Abroad

(post written for Wake up Boston!)

Shambhala doesn’t exist just in Boston. On a recent trip to Europe, I was fortunate enough to be hosted by Shambhala friends in Kiev and Odessa, Ukraine. A week later, I joined an intensive practice retreat on the island of Aegina in Greece led by Acharya Eric Spiegel.

In both the Ukraine and Greece, being Buddhist is not really okay. These Center’s are tiny, supported by a small group of very passionate and dedicated practitioners who have connected with the vision of the Great Eastern Sun. Both countries have an overwhelmingly large emphasis on Orthodox Christianity, and while not exactly illegal, it could be dangerous to advertise a Shambhala Buddhist Meditation Center.

In Kiev, I was most warmly hosted by dear sangha friend Sasha. I also had the opportunity to visit

Shambhala Kiev

their tiny one-room Center that they have access to once a week. We sat together for a couple of hot hours, the meditation gong signaling us to walk and the wooden blocks clacking us back to the cushion. In Shambhala, these sounds and our practitioner’s smiles cross language borders. I was asked to give a talk about the Boston Shambhala Center to the room of 10 practitioners. I had a translator (a new experience for me), and talked about how we do things here in this big city at this big Center in Boston, until it dawned on me that they might be curious about how to do things there in such a tiny Center. I began to ask for questions, and they began to pour in. I learned probably more than they did (isn’t that always the case - the one presenting always seems to learn more than the ones receiving the presentation), but was incredibly moved by their passion for creating enlightened society in a place that is so consumed with entertainment and materialism.

The core group in Kiev taught me (without knowing it) a precious perspective about what we have here in Boston. We have a very large Center (even if it’s not big enough for us) that we can come to for practice at anytime during the week. We have daily meditation programs - imagine that - daily. We are able to support 2-3 full-time staff people (I have not forgotten how unbelievably fortunate I am to be one of them), and have enough volunteer staff to support not only the daily programs but also weekend programs almost every week.

Wake up Boston - remember that we are so incredibly fortunate to be able to flourish with the dharma so easily!

Odessa’s Center is also a tiny one-room rental, run by my friend Oleg. They only have about 5

Odessa Shambhala

practitioners. He asked me not to mention to anyone in Eastern Europe that they exist, saying “It could be difficult for us if you do.” I got to meet one other practitioner there, and Oleg and I practiced ngondro together in 110 degree heat. It was so inspiring to practice with him on Ukrainian soil (I was on the journey to visit the land some of my ancestors come from - more on that in another post soon), and to lend my support to my European sangha in this way.

The Greek sangha has a similar story. They are a group of about 10 or 12, and are quite possibly

Shambhala retreat in Greece

the most generous and hospitable sangha I have encountered. So warm, such good cooks, such large smiles! But they also struggle to expand, to get organized, and to engage their neighbors in the practice of Shambhala and the view of enlightened society. They are a very strong group, and I have no fear that they will overcome all obstacles, especially with the support of all the dralas of beautiful Greece.

If you ever get the chance to visit our Shambhala sisters and brothers in Europe - do not miss the opportunity! Shambhala is alive and flourishing, even in the smaller gardens of the old countries.

Photos

The photos are finally here! At some point, I will fill out the stories of the photos and experiences on this blog, but for now, enjoy the slideshows!

Enjoy!!!

Paris:


Kiev:


Dnipopetrovsk:


Odessa:


Tiraspol:


Chishinau:

Dharma....with a dish of Cornflakes

Home. Home from journeying, but my heart is so fully still on the journey! How to explain this? Love flows like an unending river, and I am but a small boat upon it.

Returning last Sunday from a week of a dream on an island retreat in Greece, space/time distorted with the long soak in the teachings and the Aegean sea....this is more of a poem than a story, and I don't know how else to sing it.

A day after I returned, Scott returned glowing and tired from Warrior Assembly at Karme Choling. A few hours later, Zurmang Gharwang Rinpoche and his lovely Dubgyud Lama (attendant) arrived on our doorstep and have been living with us ever since.

So, dharma with a dish of cornflakes has been the theme of the week.

What can I say? I've barely returned from the journey, have not had any downtime, have not had a chance to absorb the richness of all that I received and encountered upon the journey and the journey upon my very own doorstep has been so rich that in some ways, I feel I am just spinning, spinning, spinning in the present moment, and there is just nothing else, no ground, no mind, no no-mind.

Forgive this warrior if she makes no sense right now!

Dniepopetrovsk

Land of my ancestors, you shine with love, with love and a bright, big sun, resting on the Dnipr river.

I'm still learning how to post photos, so this is a teaser until I can post the rest. Enjoy!

Wine at 11am and Russian lessons

Vachyslav Gregorovich and his son Serge brought us to the large old cemetary where Vachyslav's parents are buried (Serge's babushka y deodushka) and a few other friends. It was gorgeous, and we helped clean off the graves and put new flowers there. It was really a beautiful moment with the family.

Then, they took us into town and on our way to the National History Museum, they saw a local wine-tasting bar and said, come let's go and have a little wine (chut, chut - just a little). So, I got a wee bit drunk on delicious Moldavian wine at 11 o'clock in the morning! Hilarious! It was really very delicious.

Last night, quite late, once it finally cooled down, Vachyslav Gregorovich wanted to go for a walk and he wanted me to come with him. So, I went. He wants me to carry two watermelons home from the bazaar, so, I carry them. It reminds me completely of living with Aamaa in Nepal - I become who they want me to be.....and it's a blast.

Anyhoo, he and I went for a long, long walk late at night in the cool air and he taught me Russian. From a week ago when I knew maybe two words of Russian (niet, da - no, yes), I know many, many more now. Can't have much of a conversation, but can at least follow along fairly well while listening (hand gestures and facial expressions make this easier by a long shot), and I can say a bunch of stuff too now. It's delightful learning a new language. The ONLY way to do this, of course, is by immersion, and that's what Carolinka and I have been experiencing these last few (two? a year?) days in Kishinev, Moldova - true immersion.

What can I say? Connections with people happen all over the world, sometimes over the simplest things, and it is quite possibly the most delicious thing ever.

Seeing Vachyslav Gregorovich and his son pray and thank their ancestors this morning felt like we had come full circle with this trip of ancestral pilgrimmage. I cried quietly while they prayed. It was perfect.

Carolinka and I are flying to Bucharest tonight where we have a room at a hostel and she will be meeting up with her friend who she's traveling with for the next week and a half, and then really early tomorrow morning I turn around and fly to Athens and then make my way to the port of Pireaus to catch the ferry to the island of Aigina where I'll be picked up and taken to the retreat I'll be attending for the last week of this years-long trip.

Not sure if I'll have internet again. Definitely more to share, so I may just catch up on blogging when I get back home and write up excerpts from my over-half full new journal from the trip.

Till next time, go with wellness!

Vachyslav Gregorovich and other stories

First, a HUGE shout-out of love and congratulations to Their Mukpo Magesties, the Sakyong, Mipham Rinpoche and Sakyong Wangmo on the birth of their beautiful daughter, Jetsun Drukmo!!!!! My heart is beaming with joy at this new princess of Shambhala! (see www.shambhalatimes.org for more info)

And now, down to business. We are in Chishinau (Kishinev is the Russian name), the capital of Moldova. It's still ridiculously hot out, record breaking. That's not really news anymore, so sorry for sharing.

Our time in Tiraspol, Transdniestr was very interesting. We had feared the crossing into this tiny independant nation that is not recognized by any country in the world (I couldn't change my Transdniestran Rubles in Kishinev even!), and feared the exit, but both went very smoothly. Sadly, no stamps in the passport, but a huge relief not to have our cameras taken away or "taxes" (bribes) requested or any of the other things we had been warned about. Friend Oleg in Odessa told us horror stories about being shot at while driving in his car.... It all went very smoothly.

When we crossed through the Ukrainian border, it was a bit silly, a bit Soviet, actually, in how we were treated: go to this line and wait for that, get to the window, no you have to go to the other window, wait in line, no go to That other window! Very reminiscent of our post office experience earlier that morning in Odessa. When it's government related, it's still very Soviet. But we got through fine, walked the narrow corridor (marsh) of no-man's-land, saw some cute baby coots in the marshy water, and got through the Transdniestran border just fine. Didn't have to pay any taxes or anything. Though they did ask us why we were going there! (to visit where Caroline's grandmother was from was the good answer, it made them proud, they said)

Our bus couldn't cross the border (it had cost just over a dollar to go from Odessa to the border - something like 12 Ukrainian hyrivna), so we were looking for a taxi. We saw one and he was all cocky, saying okay, I'll take you to Tiraspol for $20, US. We laughed and said no way! We were told it would cost about 16 rubles (just over $1)! He kept trying to sell his taxi to us saying, the maxi-taxi (minivan taxi) would only take us to one place, he could take us where we wanted to go....and while we were walking away from him again (for the 3rd time), I smiled at these two ladies in a private car and they asked (in Ruskie) if we spoke Deutsh. Caroline said no in Russian so they started talking and wound up offering us a ride for FREE to Tiraspol, right to the hotel we wanted to go to!

So off we went. They were very sweet, and it was only a 45 minute drive or so - and, Air Conditioned!!! I've been really struggling with the heat, and actually got bad heat stroke the next day, so anytime it's cool, I hugely appreciate it!

Our hotel was right along the river Dniestr, which was beautiful and wide and flowing, much smaller than the Dniepr, but cleaner. We went swimming that evening, sooooo nice to float in the water!! Our hotel was very old, Soviet built, no hot water (which was fine, but the cold was ridiculously cold so my skin was either on fire with the heat or pained by the many cold showers...), stained but clean linens and lots of bugs. I didn't sleep much that night, but we had an excellent dinner at a nearby German/Russian restaurant. Truly, excellent food I want to make at home!

We walked too much in the heat exploring Tiraspol and had one very scary encounter. We were on a back street wandering our way in the heat to the bus station to buy tickets (which it turned out we didn't need to do in advance) when we saw a very classic old Soviet apartment building with laundry and gardens hanging out of the window/balconies, and Caroline reached in to get her camera out to take a picture. I saw a guy watching us and was a little worried about it, and as soon as Caroline aimed her camera, this guy, who turned out to have some kind of badge and was maybe a security guard came rushing over. He was saying something sharp and mean and tried physically to take away her camera. I stepped in and was fiercely saying "Niet! Niet!". We managed to wrangle the camera out of his hands and walked quickly away. We were quite shaken.

But that was the only slightly dangerous thing that happened. We were both quite paranoid about taking photos after that!

Well, time passed and the next morning, we went to the history museum, sneaked photos of Igor Smirnoff's palace (the president) and then caught a maxi-taxi (metrushka) to the bus station and met Vachyslav Gregorovich and his grandaughter and her boyfriend. We didn't know his name at the time though. They were all also traveling to Kishinev (Chishinau), so we took the bus together and sweated our brains out (the bus driver was kindof an ass about not opening the windows), and the boyfriend who spoke text-book english (he sounded a bit like a history professor, even at something like age 19) taught us lots of history about the area for the whole journey to Kishinev. Turns out the granddaughter's great-grandma is also from Dnipopetrovsk.

Then, as Caroline says:

we followed a strange man to his home, then into a park so he could show us where the hotel was, then allowed ourselves to be convinced to spend the night at his home. drinking wine and eating fresh veggies bought from local market vendors. and, we are still alive! Welcome to Moldavian hospitality!!!

That sums it up - Vachyslav Gregorovich, a man in his 60's with clear sparkling blue eyes and a hearty laugh (reminds me a bit of you when you are happy, dad) has taken us in. He is very loving and gentle and funny and is teaching me Russian (I am lapping up the Russian). He has fed us and helped us get around the city and given us a free and comfortable place to stay. He has been our daddy duckling leading us around!

So, one more night of this and then we've got another day to spend in the city before we fly to Bucharest - me for one night before I fly to Athens for a much-anticipated week of retreat on the island of Aigina, and Caroline for the rest of her trip.

Vachyslav Gregorovich has given us a window into the real life and times of people from Moldova, and has been an enourmous, unlooked for gift on our trip!

Gotta go now to get home in time for our tomatoes and peppers and fresh feta cheese dinner!

War of an Alphabet

We are in a small independant nation that I didn't know existed until two days ago called Transdniestra in a town called Tiraspol that Caroline's grandparents come from. It's a small sliver of a nation that separated from Moldova in the early 1990's with a bloody war over an alphabet. This section of country wanted to stay Russian whereas the rest of Moldova wanted to be more Romanian and change the alphabet to the Romanian/Latin script. They have their own President - Igor Nickolai Smirnoff and currency (Rubles), but are not recognized by anywhere as being independant.

It is freaking hot here. I got heat stroke yesterday and still feel like my insides are burning, but I am basically okay. 

Helped when we swam in the river Dniester.

We're on our way to Kishinev (Russian pronounciation, Chishinau - Romanian pronunciation) which is the capital of Moldova today. Then on to Bucharest, Romania tomorrow or Saturday. I'm getting very tired with the heat and the constant travel so am going to splurge on a flight from Bucharest to Athens, dont' think at this point that I can tolerate another 18 hour bus/train ride without air conditioning.

Can you imagine going to war over an alphabet?

Odessa

We are in Odessa right now. It's a beautiful city and slightly cooler with the breeze off the Black Sea (so romantic sounding, isn't it?!). It is record-breaking hot here, and just learned about the fires in Russia, but I am not surprised. That might explain the haze that has been in the air since we arrived in Ukraine. For the heat, it's a terrible time to be traveling. We took an overnight train from Dnipopetrovsk last night and I could only sleep about 3 hours of the 11 because of the heat. Ugh.

But Odessa is beautiful. This is where my ancestors took their last steps on their home continent, their motherland Russia. I have always dreamt of coming here. It doesn't quite add up to my dreams of the place, but I think it must have been grander in the times when my ancestors were here - either through their eyes having come from smaller towns, or because of the destruction of much of the city in the war and then the Soviet re-building. Now though, it seems like a city in reconstruction - so many of th ebuildings are being re-built and re-decorated adn they are beautiful.

There is incredible drala here in Odessa.

This poem just popped out:

"Odessa"

Odessa
port of departure
from motherland Russia
sparkling with drala
you showed the way to richness
for those about to leave
haven for those from the dirt farms
capital for those wishing to leave

Odessa
your magical air
perched above the cooling Black Sea
imagination cannot help
but sing with stories of distant lands
shivering with mystery
quaking like a tender leaf
relaxing with the brilliance

i see you
i see you walking down the Potemkin steps
embarking upon your journey into the unknown future
clasping a small orange in your hands
given to you by a sailor

Odessa
the last footstep on your homeland

a love story

I'm writing a quick note to say Dobrya-den (good-day or something like that) from the town that used to be Ekatrinaslav, Russia but is now Dnipopetrovsk, Ukraine. But they all speak Russian here.

It's hot. As in 40 degrees Celcius hot. We spent hours by and in the river Dnipr again today (did the same thing in Kiev the other day)just to be reasonably comfortable in the heat. But had a good chance to soak up the atmosphere of the town last night and today even though we haven't seen much of it.

Did a sukhavati ceremony the other day by the Dnipr River in Kiev and again today by the same river for my ancestors. Feels really, really good. Feels like the purification and release of the burden is occurring. And in it's place, love is just burgeoning. I'm discovering a new story about my family. It is a story of love. Not just a story of neediness and pain, not just a story of forgetting the old world and attaching to newer, faster commodities.

It's a story about a soft breeze by a river, the leaves waving in the wind, and two lovers meeting by the water to enjoy it all deeply. It's a story about loving many all at once, about conquering fear to love ardently, about striding across bridges to fall at the feet of the ones you love.

This story is all around me here. It is in the statues, the water, the story of why this city exists (General Putemkin's lover Ekatrina loved the island by the bend in the river - this is where we went swimming this moring - and so he built a church there for her, and a palace overlooking the island and the river for her. He also later (or earlier, I'm not sure) conquered the fort at Odessa (where we're heading to tonight on an overnight train) for his lover Catherine the Great (17th Century) from St.Petersburg and built it into what it is today - a multi-ethnic port with a magical air.

This story exists in all the painful stories of my family, all of which are based on love, and loving too many. The stories are embedded in my family history, and I have chosen, long ago, to change the way this story unfolds. It is so wonderful to be here, where that love seeminly originated, or at least I can taste tendrils of it in the hot air, the way the breeze moves the leaves of trees, the way the flowers bend in the heat, the way the water laps at the shore.

Not in Kansas anymore.......and why we aren't in Belarus

When all the signs are in cyrillic (which you don't read at all) and the buildings all look like Soviet-era high-rises, and your first meal you are offered is borsht, well, you know you're not in Kansas anymore.

That's right. Au revoir Paris! We left this morning on an early flight to Kiev, Ukraine where I write to you now from a sweltering but cute, old apartment my friend Sasha lives in with his family (read: mother, brother and his family). He has lived here in this same apartment since 1982 when it was indeed a Soviet high-rise.

There's so much I want to share. It's been quite a week. Warning - this may be my longest blog post of the journey.....

Let me start backwards. I sit in this heat, with fortunately a nice breeze drinking a delicous cold compote drink after a filling home-made meal by Sasha's mother. Caroline has fallen asleep behind me on the couch we'll be sharing for the next two nights and Sasha has gone down to the store, possibly for a beer or vodka or maybe milk for his mama, I'm not sure. We're tired because we got to bed late last night after enjoying a last evening in Paris (we dined out instead of picknicking by the Seine), and then getting up early, early to rush to the Metro to catch the bus to get to the airport.

It was amazing to have a friend to pick us up here in Kiev at the airport! In the sea of cryllic and Russian and Ukrainian syllables flying over our heads, it was such a relief to see a friendly and familiar face. Sasha and I met last year in France at Vajrayana Seminary.

But backing up again, to the question that has most burned my mind all week: Why are we not in Belarus???

We tried. We tried for something like 3 hellish days to make the plans work. We were jetlagged, yes, we were cranky and homesick and unsettled (love Paris, but next time will either successfully pin down a home-stay or make a certain plan for how many nights I want to stay - we had to move almost every night, to a different room, and then shuttling back and forth between hostels).

Why Belarus in the first place? I thought I had to go back to where "I" came from (my ancestors, that is). I thought I had to go back to heal the past. I thought, well, I thought a lot.

When it came down to it, we were pushing and pushing to get there and nothing, NOTHING would work. We would get online and find a bus ticket, trek to the bus station only to find out the bus left the following day and would take FORTY hours, getting us to Belarus with only a day and a half before my visa expired (visas were required to procure before we left for Europe, mine cost something like $300). Then we would go back online and find a plane ticket, get through all the steps to book it and realize that I didn't have my passport with me (number was required) because it was at the bicycle rental shop where we had rented bikes from. So, we biked to a travel agency thinking that maybe we could have them help us, but they couldn't. Not unless we wanted to pay about a thousand dollars. So we biked again, and it thundered and poured and we were soaked to the bones and I lost my sunglasses and my day pack fell in a big puddle, and......finally we returned the bicycles, I got my passport back, we went to a cyber cafe and.....

The next flights we could find for a reasonable fare would only get us to Belarus with enough time for us to land and basically take off again for Ukraine. Not enough time to get to Pinsk, not enough time to see where my great-grandparents were born, not enough time to do some healing work (practice) by the mass graves where my great-great uncles and their families were probably "buried" after they were murdered in the Holocaust. Not enough time.

It was incredible. All this effort to try to get there, and every path blocked. Obstacle after obstacle.

So, we spent time by the Seine. We practiced for more than an hour in Notre Dame (powerful place that), and we gave it all some space. Next morning, we tried again. No go. So, in a quick moment of insight, we looked up a flight to Kiev, skipping Belarus. GO! Green light! Affordable and on Friday (today), so we booked it!

That left us with a few extra days in Paris to enjoy. So, we enjoyed: the Louvre, Notre Dame, the "Merry" section of town, the Seine, the Sorbonne, the base of the Eiffel Tower, lots of espresso's, some gorgeous parks and gardens (Paris seriously knows how to do these well, very, very well), and other enjoyable moments by other ancient buildings and parks and monuments. Most of it was quite simple. We didn't have a lot of money to spend on doing things, and both felt strongly that relaxing was more important than trying to see everything in Paris (unlike a few of our hostel-mates we met who had crazy-packed itineraries).

Then, I think it was yesterday morning, I had a bit of a humongeous epiphany. It feels personal, but is completely central to this whole ROOTS journey, so I would like to share.

I can't heal the past. I can't go back to the Pale of Russia where my great-grandparents came from. In fact, I don't need to go anywhere or do anything, my ancestors are all already with me all the time. What I did need to do was to TRY really, really hard (spend way too much money and time and stress and tears and pain) to get there and then fail, only to realize that I didn't need to go in the first place. I experience my ancestors present with me now. Here, as I type on this keyboard, melting from the heat, they are here, clustered around my shoulders, not necessarily curious about what I am writing, but interested regardless. They are here, in the way my hand moves through space to brush a fly from my forehead. They are here in the way I take a deep breath through the humidity. They are hear in the strong beating of my heart. They are here in my tears. They are supporting me (just as they all support all of us) and giving me strength, and there is nothing I need do other than continually wake up to life, to love.

This was massively important for me to recognize. The gauze covering my eyes, my heart, my mind could only be lifted by trying really hard and failing. In the failing, I actually won far more than if I had been able to simply travel to Belarus as planned.

So, now I am here, enjoying my mind and very extremely humongeously full heart, traveling now for myself, not for those who have gone before - because they are already here with me!

Tomorrow I will spend time by the large river Dnipr (dnepr in russian) which flows from the Prijapet which runs through Pinsk in Belarus, and continues through this new capital city Kiev (though historically, Kiev is called the heart of Russia - the birth place of Russia) and on down south to Dnipropetrovsk (which used to be Ekatrinaslav - where my other great-grandparents were born). So, this river Dnipr is very important to me. I plan to do a sukhavati for all of my ancestors by this river, calling down the dralas and blessings of them, so that they may be free, and so that I may free to experience their freedom.

That's how it feels, anyway.

The river. And the trees. That's what it always comes down to for me - the river and the trees. I don't know what I'll find here in Ukraine or even in some ways why I am here. But here we are, and I know I have this work to do by the river, and I know I want to see the steps in Odessa where my ancestors walked down to the ships, leaving their homeland Russia behind forever.

So, why are we not in Belarus? It was necessary for us not to go.

Instead, we are here in Ukraine! Awaiting the next series of adventures........

picknicking by the seine

that's my favorite part of being in paris so far
but the mona lisa was amazing today

we have one more day in paris, and it has gotten quite nice to be here now, especially since we have a plan! we fly to kiev on friday morning and will stay with my friend Sasha for a few days

i want to write more, but these internet cafe's just eat up the euros
i'll try soon!
love to all of you!

Paris.....for a week

Hi. We're in Paris, and looks like we'll be here till Friday. After some enormous frustration and difficulty, we've realized that we cannot go to Belarus as we had planned and hoped. So much for the $300 visa....

We've just bought tickets to fly to Kiev on Friday. So we'll go straight to Ukraine. The river Prijapet that Pinsk, Belarus is on flows down to Kiev, so I will be able to at least connect with the waters of my ancestors, if not on the soil of their birth, then at least the waters of their birth.

We've been staying in youth hostels and will continue to do so. We rented bicycles and have enjoyed touring and learning Paris by bike. Looks like we have three more days to do it, too. Yummy food, beautiful Seine, and some amazing landmarks.

So sad about not getting to go to Belarus, but relieved to at least have movement finally - so, on to Kiev!

Wish I could write more, the time is running out on my internet card. Love to all!

Setting Off

In two days, we set off for an ancestral journey. We'll be traveling to Belarus & Ukraine for my ancestors and Moldova & Romania for my friend's ancestors.

I will be traveling with dear old friend Caroline whom I first met in Nepal, even though we had been neighbors in Boulder - she lived directly upstairs from me then, but we didn't meet until we were in Kathmandu. Nine years and many adventures later, we are finally setting off on a journey which we've been dreaming about together for a very long time. A journey I've been dreaming about my whole life.
When I was very small, I used to ask my dear red-headed Nana (Mildred Gottlieb Zimmerman) to tell me stories about her grandparents. She gave me little scissors her red-haired "Zeida" (Pincas Gottlieb) gave to her, and told me how she used to jump up and grab onto his long, long red beard and swing from it. photo:(Caroline, "a bestie" at y wedding, 2008)
She told me how her mother's sisters (read: my great-grandmother Mary (Miryam
or Merele) Volovelsky-Karzinel Gottlieb) (sisters: Rivka (Rivele) Volovelsky-Karzinel Yellin and Hanna Volovelsky-Karzinel Kolodny) walked from Russia to Palestine. This captivated me for years until I traveled to Israel myself and met Sarah Danin (daughter of Hanna Kolodny and my nana's first cousin) just a year before she died, and she told me the story she remembered of being 5 years old and taking the train to Odessa from Pinsk and then taking a large ship to Palestine. She remembered the Palestinians throwing stones at them as they disembarked from the ship, and they had to hunker down until night-time to cross the dessert to Jerusalem.

These few story-snippets are the seeds of my family identity:

• my great-great-grandfather's strong red beard
• my great-grandmother's escape from Russia to America with her young paramour (Morris Gottlieb)
• the gorgeous silver menorah given to Merele by her mother (my great-great grandmother: Yehudith-Feigeh (Minski) Kartzinel-Volovelsky – 1863-1924, died shortly after arriving to Israel-Palestine; I saw her grave when I was in Tel Aviv) because she was leaving the old country and might never see her daughter again (the menorah that I have since inherited; I believe that the menorah is a few hundred years old and has been handed down the line of women in this family, ending up with me so far)
• the Volovelsky-Kartzinel's were intellectuals, the Gottlieb's were wood cutters (photo of the Lipton family at my wedding, 2008)
• the Lipshitz clan emigrated as a group from Ikatrinislav, they were merchants and upon opening a grocery store in Brooklyn, realized they had to change our name to Lipton (thank goodness); my great-grandparents Sam and Goldie were first cousins, they were 2 and 3 when they came over from Russia
  
• my great-great grandfather died in Russia and his sons and their families were all killed in the Holocaust (my great-great grandfather: Avraham Volovelsky-Kartzinel (-1910); Avraham’s family was Volovelsky, but they changed it into Kartzinel in order to avoid his recruitment to the Tzar’s army; his parents were Meir and Tzirl Volovelsky (Tzirl was the granddaughter of the Gaon from Vilna – 1720-1797, a very famous Rabbi in Jewish history)) (my great-great uncles who were murdered in 1942: Yosef & wife Dvora, daughters Tzirl and Boriya; Iser & wife Duba, sons Avraham (lived his life in Israel) and Chayeem; Avigdor & wife Eidle, daughters Yehudit and Batya
• I am half Russian-Jewish, which does not really mean my religion, it is a cultural identity.
  Click here for a more complete family tree compiled by my 2nd cousin once removed, the famous botanist in Israel, Avinoam Danin.
  

The land of my ancestors is calling me. I hear their voices in my dreams, I feel their presence when I practice (in case you don't know, I am a Shambhala Vajrayana Buddhist practioner (click here to learn what in the world that means - scroll all the way down the page). I must go to meet the land of their birth, the trees of their dreams so that I can lay this burden down. Through my practice and patience, I can let them go, releasing them from their suffering, releasing myself to live my life fully.

This new blog will be a place to chronicle the journey. Thanks for coming along on the ride!