Some positive directions

My new life is slowly taking shape, and I'm happy with it. The very intensive time that I had around the move is more or less over, thank G-d, and I can breathe, and look around, and start to enjoy my new environment and my new life here. I go to the university often, instead of working alone from home, and it's nice to be around people, and educated people at that. I have special sentiments to this campus. It has always felt like home to me, somehow. Also, this area of Jerusalem, Mt. Scopus and the French Hill, have always felt like home to me. I'm not sure why. I like being here.
Before I moved, I looked around my things and got rid of many things that I hadn't touched in years. I found among my folders some books, booklets and folders with piano music, from the time that I studies piano in Japan. Since I haven't played after I left, I decided to give them away, and I did. Then I came across my folder from Japan with guitar chords. I have an old guitar at home, that someone gave me when I was a student in Jerusalem - a friend of a friend of mine from Japan. I still have this guitar. I looked at the guitar and thought to myself - maybe it's time for it to go as well? Maybe I should give it away? I was that close to giving it away, but then a thought entered my mind. What if I resume playing it, and play some music to sick people at hospitals? I decided to keep the guitar, and to keep my folders with the chords. I have visited people at hospitals in the past few years, and I was hoping to find some regular volunteering at Hadassah of Mt. Scopus for a long time now, but the thought of playing music to them never entered my mind, until this move. So I moved, and the music came with me. I've been here for two weeks, forgot about that thought, and only thought about visiting the sick, without the music. Until today. I use a smartphone application called WhatsApp - everybody here uses it. It's for free calls and texting, and you can be a member of groups and send group-texts. So today, after work, I got this message in one of the WhatsApp groups I'm a member of. It's a general Jerusalem group, not specific to my new area. I've been a member of this group for a long time now. The text that was sent was an urgent request for people who are not far from the Mt. Scopus Hadassah hospital to go there with musical instruments, to the Hospice on the third floor, and to play some music to a young woman who is dying, and this could be her last hour of life. I didn't take my guitar, because I haven't played it in a long time and I need to relearn how to play it. I took my recorder and ran, literally, from my home to the hospital. I got there on time. There were a lot of family and friends around her, but no one with music. They saw me with the recorder, nodded and ushered me in. I played some calm, soothing pieces to her. She was unconscious. She lost consciousness earlier that morning, I was told. She looked weak and pale. When I played, she uttered some sounds that sounded like coughs, but they were not coughs. She somehow reacted to the music. When I stopped, the strange sounds stopped, and when I resumed playing, she resumed making those sounds. It was moving. I've visited sick people at hospitals before, even people who died later on, but this was the first time I stood next to the deathbed of someone. I've never seen anyone in the process of dying before. Efrat. That was her name. At a certain point, after playing a few song, I felt I should leave her alone with her family. I went to play in another room, since I was already there and I realized it was that easy - you go in, ask permission of the patient or their family, and play. Then, out of nowhere came this young lady with a flute and joined me. Then another young lady with a small drum, and then another young man with a guitar. We improvised some music together to different sick people at different rooms in the hospice. It turns out that they belong to a charity organization that does such things regularly - twice a month. Somehow today was one of those times. They took my number, and they will be in touch when they go there again to play.
I was starving when we were done, so I went down to buy something to eat. As I finished eating my toast and blessing over the food (Birkat HaMazon), I saw two older men go into the hospital, one with a guitar, and the other with a clarinet. I've visited this hospital before, but I've never seen people with instruments there before - how amazing it is that on that day that I responded the call to go and play, I saw people who go to play. I asked them if they go to the hospice, because I wanted to warn them that the family wants to be alone with the girl right now. They had no idea what I was talking about. They didn't come because of a WhatsApp message - it is something that they do every Wednesday anyway. I asked if they needed a third person with a recorder to join them - they said yes. We were slowly walking in a raw, one behind the other, and playing music as we were walking through the hospital. People were looking at us, nodding and smiling, some singing along. We got to one of the departments during dinner, and played there in a central area. Sick people and their family started pouring to the area from different rooms, smiling, thanking us, nodding to us, singing along, asking for specific songs. The man with the guitar (our 'leader') took out a tambourine and other percussion instruments and gave them to the sick people so that they can join and play with us. It was beautiful to see their smiles. It's amazing how complete strangers can play together without planning anything, in beautiful harmony. We played there for two whole hours. It was so nice. Then the 'leader' of our small group started walking out, we followed, playing music all along, and we found ourselves back at the entrance to the hospital. A man with retardation came and told us that we play so nicely and asked for specific religious songs. We played. He asked each of us for our names, and we said our names. This is the first introduction I had to them and they had to me by name. Quite amazing - after playing so nicely together for two whole hours. Then the 'leader' asked me if I needed a ride back home. I said I don't need one, but it can help. We left the hospital, walking slowly to the parking lot while playing music all along. They asked me again for my name and took my number - they want me to join them from now on. The person who played the clarinet gave me a lot of compliments on my recorder playing, which made me happy. I hope I can join them every week for this musical volunteering from now on.

And now I want to connect the dots - isn't it amazing? As I was preparing to move and started packing, I had this thought, this desire for the first time in my life to play music to sick people. Regardless, I've been wanting a regular volunteering opportunity at Haddassah of Mt. Scopus. And today, two weeks after I moved, the opportunity came knocking on my door. I wouldn't have known how to find it on my own. I wouldn't have gone alone and played music to people. If not for that WhatsApp message today - first of its kind in my life - it wouldn't have happened. And to think that it happened DAVKA on a Wednesday, when the two older men go there to play anyway, and DAVKA on one of the two times a month that the younger people go there to play - isn't it obvious that G-d is behind this? Quite amazing, and I am so thankful.

Sadly, I have to say that as we were walking in the corridors of the hospital, playing, one of the male nurses from the hospice saw me and recognized me. He asked us not to go to the Hospice, because the girl died, and many people are mourning and crying there. She died at such a young age - very very sad. But in her death, she gave a gift to me - and to sick people who can enjoy this music from now on.

G-d's plans are great and amazing. I'm also thinking - if I had been living in Rechavia, it would have taken me at least 45 minutes by public transportation to get to the hospital, and I wonder if I would have gone. I believe I would have anyway, even though they said she has only one hour to live. But living here made it much faster for me to go there, and then through being there I merited to meet those other musicians who go there routinely and regularly, and not because of any WhatsApp message. Great and wonder-filled are G-d's ways.

One more new thing in my life - I've been wanting to study computer programming for the past year or so, because I feel that I need to have this knowledge in my work. I'm working with programmers and it is very hard to do so without knowing anything about programming. I asked around about programming courses but they were all so expensive, so I gave up. But G-d has His ways of making wishes come true. In one of my visits to the Hebrew University, I saw a poster about a free programming course for women only. I applied. And then today I got a very happy email - I got accepted to the programming course for women, free of charge, in Jerusalem. The organization that holds these courses is called She Codes; and you can find it in other countries as well. I already gave up on my chances of being accepted - but today I got the message that they found a place for me and that I can start Feb. 3rd. Quite amazing - thank you, G-d!
Also, yesterday I started learning Python on my own through a link that one of my Hebrew students sent me - I didn't know that this student knew anything about programming, but he did, and he was another messenger of the Almighty to grant me my wish. He sent me this link: www.codecademy.com and I started learning. So far it is so easy, and I'm happy!

I feel so grateful, I feel that my moving here was important for HaShem, and slowly and gradually I am starting to discover why.

Thank You, thank You, thank You, G-d! I love You, HaShem!

Moved

I'm sitting now in the library, at the Hebrew University campus on Mt. Scopus, which is now a walking distance from where I live. I work from here - rather than working alone from home. I sit where I used to sit when I was a student here.
I went to the gorgeous synagogue on campus today to pray the Mincha prayer. It is such a beautiful place, perhaps my favorite ever. I sat there alone for a moment, and then another woman came. When I looked at her a few minutes later, I saw that she was Asian, not sure if Chinese or Korean, but it was nice to see her sitting there, trying to connect to spirituality in my favorite place. Then, little by little, men came into the prayer hall and soon they started the service with the Ashrei prayer. How beautiful, I thought to myself - students, professors, cleaning workers - they all come in together for a short while to stand in front of G-d together, none of them is above the other, each of them is equal to each and every one of the others. Someone led the service. I don't know who he was, but he could have been a professor, or a cleaning worker, and it doesn't matter. In front of G-d there are no such statuses. Everyone is equal. To be able to say the Kaddish prayer or read from the Torah, Jews need a Minyan (a quorum of 10 men). Every men above 13 can complete a minyan, and it doesn't matter what his place is in the social hierarchy. Just a very human, innocent moment, a sweet moment that I thought I should record in writing here.

So I moved, finally. The neighborhood I live in is beautiful, and gladly, there are a lot of steps and stairs, and distances to walk (which I didn't have when I lived in Rechavia). I'm happy with it, because I need the chance to be physically active and I cherish it. I missed that in the old apartment and neighborhood.
My apartment is nice, but small, and not new, and I'm thinking that if (when) I move again, I wish myself to live in a newer place, one in which you don't easily see the signs of time and use by previous tenants. I already unpacked and organized almost everything. Little by little I'm getting rid of things that no longer serve me and that I haven't used in a long time. Today I brought to the university a few booklets that I no longer need, as well as some CDs, and I plan to keep on doing so.
I live in the top floor in a villa. My ceilings are sloped, and there are windows in them. It is great, because when I go to bed, or when I sit on my sofa to read or reflect, I look up and I see the moon, the stars, or a beautiful blue sky with white clouds floating by during day time. It hailed a few days ago, and snowed a bit, and it was great to see and hear it all happening through my windows, above my head.
The calls of the Muazeen (the Muslim priest who calls people to prayer) can still be heard, just like years ago. Not much has changed.
I already visited a few synagogues in my neighborhood for Shabbat, and I found one that I really like. There are a few more that I want to visit, though, to see how I feel there. The neighborhood is a lot more religious than it used to be when I lived there. But secular people can also be spotted here and there.
Going to the same supermarket that used to be mine so many years ago. Except for the people, nothing changed. That building is still the same too, with the same rose flowers in front of it, the same entrance gate, the same parking space, the same everything.

Look forward.

Very stressful two weeks are ending now. It was close to impossible. Packing my things, finishing a very important project at work - which hasn't really ended yet, having people come to see my old apartment - constant phone calls about the apartment from interested people, calls from the landlord, and what not. I hardly had time for myself. I was in a constant rush. I felt I just couldn't take it anymore - but throughout all of this, I didn't forget G-d. I didn't forget for a moment that it is all HIM who does this to me, who puts me on a test, to see how I cope and how I do not lose my temper or start being not-nice to others. I think that overall I passed the test with a good grade - I hope. And I also learned some very important lesson, one that HaShem was trying for a long time to teach me, and only now I realized that it was a lesson and that I should change something in my behavior. I realized what it was - it was something related to my boss at work. She told me that and I realized she was right. I took responsibility and took upon myself to be aware of this and not to repeat it.  It is not easy to find that you were wrong, but it is good to learn this and to change. I think I will be a better person from now on thanks to this lesson.

I'm moving Tuesday. A week later than I was supposed to. I'm already paying rent in the new place. But it is all worth it, since I got to see what I need to improve, and I took upon myself to improve it. All in all, it is not easy. I'm so in need of a home, of a true home, of warmth, of light, of happiness, of belongingness, of understanding. Home - the ingredient I'm missing most in my life.