what now?

what am i doing? when i was traveling in israel i had all these thoughts and experiences i wanted to share with other people via my blog, and i had it in my head that when i had some time i'd do it. but it is difficult to write about the doves that live on the western wall or the man that shouted at us for meditating there, however recently it may indeed have occured, when i woke up this morning and cross country skiied through a new england wood. its hard to live in the present and write about the past, and truly, living in the present is what i want to do. i have started a new job, i am a person with a past who is the flower grower and events planner at a farm in granby, ma. i have a tomato festival to schedule for august and i have to learn which shed holds which tools and where the ladle lives in this new kitchen i now share with some wonderful folks. but what of the untold stories? the materialistic young urban professionals who were the participants on the birthright trip and how i covered myself with mud immediately after we all exposed our bikinied bodies at the dead sea because i felt embarassed about my hairy legs for the first time in YEARS. the moment of silence i held at the end of our five hour tour of Israel's holocaust museum (Yad Vashem) in which i asked people to empathize, not blame or analyze but to try to empathize, with the people suffering in gaza just a few kilometers from this memorial where we had just empathized with the victims of the shoah. the wild dancing i couldn't help but let loose in that kibbutz bomb shelter that night. the play i went to see in hebrew about a conversation among a group of turn of the century european jewish immigrants to palestine who were trying to figure out how to relate to one another as a commune and how it along with the commune i was staying in at the time inspired me to be conscious and intentional about relationships. the retail tycoon and birthright philanthropist, bernie marcus founder and owner of home depot, who uglied any sense of jewish identity i had while i sat through his bullshit speech with broiling blood and watery eyes at independence hall (the bomb shelter room in which ben gurion declared the state of israel in 1948) while all the young urban professional participants applauded home depot and israeli nationalism and laughed at his jokes about greedy jews. david grossman's eulogy for his sone, uri grossman. what about all these untold stories that i meant to tell?