by Aaron Brandes
As I careered down a Panama mountain path, my daughter Tamar called out, “quetzal.” A bird with green plumage and a pair of long tail feathers sat regally on a tree limb above us. I paused to catch my breath, and it was gone. We were fortunate enough to observe another quetzal, this one more stationary and further away, pointed out by a local wildlife expert on a different hike.
You haven’t stumbled across a school “what I did during my vacation” essay. This is one of those blog posts where a Hav member shares something about their life outside Havurat Shalom. Spending time in nature has been a life-long, life-giving practice for me. From a Jewish perspective I connect it with “creation” which for me is the acknowledgement of something greater than humanity. Locally, I go for frequent walks in the Middlesex Fells, and in the Torbert Macdonald park along the Mystic river (where I have recently been keeping tabs on the growth of over twenty goslings).
While reflecting on my wildlife experiences in Panama, I noticed that some aspects are paralleled in my spiritual experiences. Some experiences happen serendipitously, some require guides. Sometimes you go expecting or hoping for something, but don’t find it. At a municipal reservation near Panama City a ranger told us that howler monkeys had been seen on one of the loop trails. We hiked it slowly, looking carefully, but saw no mammals. Later, on a different trail we heard them, and eventually saw several. Near the tops of tall trees they were clearly at home, and looked small even through binoculars. They were clearly not there for our convenience. Sometimes you see something you didn’t even think would be there. A long, thin erect brown tail moving among bushes and fallen trees turned out to be part of a pointy-nosed coati. He was so intent on searching for food that we were able to observe him for ten minutes digging for insects and other delicacies.
At times even something familiar is revealed in a new light. Tamar and I kayaked to a small island off of Santa Catalina (a small fishing town on the Pacific). Lying under the shade of a tree we saw hundreds of small black creatures wandering the sand. A closer look at one of their pileups revealed them to hermit crabs feasting on a fallen piece of fruit (not what I have imagined hermit crabs eating). We had seen some of the intricate, sometimes floral shaped scratchings they left in the black volcanic sand on a Santa Catalina beach, but the solitary crabs dashed to and from their holes for only seconds at a time.
Sometimes the special aspect of an experience is the ‘arc’ you are witness to. While snorkeling we saw a number of sea turtles ‘flying’ underwater. What really wowed us was watching a sea turtle slowly rise from the coral below until it broke the water surface nearby. Sometimes immediacy is not the same as proximity. We felt safe on land watching a crocodile ten feet away in a pond, since it seemed quite content there. Yet while whitewater rafting we saw a crocodile over thirty feet away, but felt more alarmed because we shared the same river.
The Hav has been my Jewish spiritual home for over forty years. I continue to be moved by the davening, especially when we sing together. I enjoy preparing and delivering d'vrai torah (talks on the weekly reading from the Torah), and participating in the discussions that follow weekly.
You haven’t stumbled across a school “what I did during my vacation” essay. This is one of those blog posts where a Hav member shares something about their life outside Havurat Shalom. Spending time in nature has been a life-long, life-giving practice for me. From a Jewish perspective I connect it with “creation” which for me is the acknowledgement of something greater than humanity. Locally, I go for frequent walks in the Middlesex Fells, and in the Torbert Macdonald park along the Mystic river (where I have recently been keeping tabs on the growth of over twenty goslings).
While reflecting on my wildlife experiences in Panama, I noticed that some aspects are paralleled in my spiritual experiences. Some experiences happen serendipitously, some require guides. Sometimes you go expecting or hoping for something, but don’t find it. At a municipal reservation near Panama City a ranger told us that howler monkeys had been seen on one of the loop trails. We hiked it slowly, looking carefully, but saw no mammals. Later, on a different trail we heard them, and eventually saw several. Near the tops of tall trees they were clearly at home, and looked small even through binoculars. They were clearly not there for our convenience. Sometimes you see something you didn’t even think would be there. A long, thin erect brown tail moving among bushes and fallen trees turned out to be part of a pointy-nosed coati. He was so intent on searching for food that we were able to observe him for ten minutes digging for insects and other delicacies.
At times even something familiar is revealed in a new light. Tamar and I kayaked to a small island off of Santa Catalina (a small fishing town on the Pacific). Lying under the shade of a tree we saw hundreds of small black creatures wandering the sand. A closer look at one of their pileups revealed them to hermit crabs feasting on a fallen piece of fruit (not what I have imagined hermit crabs eating). We had seen some of the intricate, sometimes floral shaped scratchings they left in the black volcanic sand on a Santa Catalina beach, but the solitary crabs dashed to and from their holes for only seconds at a time.
Sometimes the special aspect of an experience is the ‘arc’ you are witness to. While snorkeling we saw a number of sea turtles ‘flying’ underwater. What really wowed us was watching a sea turtle slowly rise from the coral below until it broke the water surface nearby. Sometimes immediacy is not the same as proximity. We felt safe on land watching a crocodile ten feet away in a pond, since it seemed quite content there. Yet while whitewater rafting we saw a crocodile over thirty feet away, but felt more alarmed because we shared the same river.
The Hav has been my Jewish spiritual home for over forty years. I continue to be moved by the davening, especially when we sing together. I enjoy preparing and delivering d'vrai torah (talks on the weekly reading from the Torah), and participating in the discussions that follow weekly.
Aaron Brandes is a long-time member of Havurat Shalom.
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