The Nomadic Family- The Sky, Cysts, Silence, Mangled Cats & Daughter Heroes- Returning Home- Israel
Skies are dark, thunder booming. The kids are watching the rain as it draws nearer, and, yes, here it comes. I now hear the first large splats of water outside my bedroom door. As I’m lying here about to fall into the sweetest of naps, I realize what quiet there is within and around me.
All day I’ve cleaned the house. All day, just like those days when all we did was laundry in the river in the jungles of Eucador when we lived with the indigenous tribe. Or when we lived for two months in Panagsama Beach and dove daily with Savedra Dive Center (and laughed and laughed). There we’d sit on the second-story porch and watch the rain and the mud-covered people below walk through ankle-high puddles.
There’s a lovely white long-haired cat with green eyes outside. Well, he used to look lovely, I’m sure. He showed up here with his purple collar over one shoulder and choking him, matted hair, and though he’s clearly been through hell and has quite a scary look to him with those bones jetting out here and there, he purrs, cuddles, and sits beside us every chance he gets. Like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, in his hideousness, there is cuteness.
He stands by the screen doors and demands to come in as if he belonged here long before us. The kids and I feed him; Kobi chases him away. Good thing he’s the stubborn sort.
I think he was meant to find us. We have something to learn from this soul. Something unclear, like why we’re even here bumbling around on this planet, but purposeful all the same.
Death and the Meaning of Life
I no longer believe in accidents or coincidences. There is a hand, maktub [Alchemist] that guides the interwoven fabics that become our life history. Like Jacky who was smoking a cigarette outside
, defeated, and tired of “For fifty years, I worried about this shit…. What a waste of time.” She was not discovered by accident and found finally peace with That Which Is when the lady handed her the lace underwear. No, she was meant to find her, the Universe was simply waiting for her to be ripe and ready to receive this next lesson or that next gift.
Or like that powerful therapy process I had with the woman who’s kindergarten-aged daughter got hit by a car and died and for thirty years she believed her husband that she murdered her daughter. What an honor it was to have her finally meet her daughter again and ask for forgiveness and make peace with That Which Was/Is, which is essentially the same thing anyhow. So, her daughter almost died the Thursday before her death. Mom was taking a nap and woke up startled (guess her instincts knew) and she ran out to the balcony, some fifteen floors up, and found her daughter dangling in the air off the clothes line. (The dear girl thought it would be a good idea to help mom remove the dry laundry).
And so, it was the Tuesday four days later that would be her final day on Earth. Maktub, as in the Alchemist. So it was meant to be, so it was written, and therefore on that week no City of Angels wings could protect the girl. It was her time and So It Was/So It Is.
A Heroes Life Sucks
And so are we meant to go through this acclimation process. Damn, it’s hard. I spent the first three weeks of the school year crying. So hard to be so rejected, so blown back by how sorely you don’t fit in. Dahnya found media-inspired, sexuality-infused little twelve year olds prancing around full-make-uped, tight-tight mini jeans-skirted 20-year-old-wanna-be’s who I believe tragically lost themselves. They lost their voice, their right to be goofy, funny, tom-boyish, and creative. Now they’re all desperately trying to be ‘in’ and nothing outside the clothing, music, i-phone app, make-up, or hair-do matters. Nothing.
It’s a hard place to be in but we’re sticking to our guns and filling Dahnya’s soul with messages of how amazing she is, of how the right girls still connected to themselves will find her, of how eventually she will walk around comfortable in her own skin, and mostly about how fucking brave and strong and beautiful she is and she walks in there day after day with some light shining around her head. She has become our hero. She has.
For Everything, Turn, Turn, Turn, There Is a Season
And as I watch the stevia, lemon grass, lemon verbana, and some other herb from my sister’s garden turn the water greener, I know she is thriving with her Voice lessons, with our weekly lunch date with her at school, and with a homeroom teacher who sees her as magical. We invited the class and their families on Sunday to our home with the sincere intention in helping to create this community we all deserve. The winds are blowing their hair outside as the sun now smiles and the mountains sigh.
Dahnya’s got this one friend, Shaked [photographed with Dahnya above], who took care of her stuffed animal while we were gone and stayed true to her and to herself. Shaked does rainbow loom, swings on the hammocks outside, and allows her to be her creative, semi-introverted, socially uncooth self without demanding of Dahnya to be anything but That Which She Is.
We each need just one of those in life. Dahnya has a handful. So do I. So do the other kids. That’s all you need to know that you are OK exactly the way that you are. Orazi’s teacher says he doesn’t act like a 6th grade boy, that he lives in a bubble, that he is naive and not rough in the right ways to fit in with his peers. Uh-huh. And so, he’s been bullied pretty badly. Solai doesn’t feel that she fits in so hot either. I guess it is time to develop some thick skin (sigh) and so we will.
Everything has a season. Our travel lifestyle, our life back home [wings and roots], feeling on top of the world as the cool foreigner who just flew into town, and feeling odd man out as we enter a technologically-ruled, media-drunk world of brainwashed consumerism and chronic feelings of not enough. We have a season. Here, not here, euphoric, static, miserable, and dead. Right now health issues and being fully here, and tons of nesting and appreciating, rules our lives. My online season has not yet returned, and maybe never will.
Three days ago, I got this message:
and yesterday, Alyson Long said this:
which reinspired me, reminded me that my honest searching does hit a chord of truth that deserves to be shared. And my season to write is redawning. I feel it. I see me carving into the maddening-consuming time of modern life, time for me. Time to work, time to write, time to heal, time to nap, time to find me in a new world that is pulling me simultaneously in twenty directions.
Welcome home. It’s nice to have a kitchen counter, drawers, and walls that belong to me. It’s even nicer to come home to my body, my husband, my family, my day, and see, fully see in deep appreciation, this moment as full and that, yes, I’ve already arrived.
Comment. I’d love to hear you, but don’t feel pressured for I hear the kids playing with good friends outside, I hear the tip-tap of these keys. I hear my beloved, soul-soothing wind chimes outside, and I hear my heart thumpy thump. So much to hear and bow down to, so much to be utterly grateful for. I hear you too- if magnified down to words or if kept as energetic waves of unity. I hear you.
Am I being too harsh here? Am I creating (as my best friend believes) a place where Dahnya won’t be able to find her niche for it’s them vs you, they are lost and evil and disconnected and you are perfect? We’ve agreed that everyone is looking, some everywhere, some more within, but everyone is looking and that is more empowering perhaps.
Ever left home and found when you returned that the world was so very different than it was before? Or was it different or were you just changed?
[Like Prince] Formerly known as the source of light for The Nomadic Family
PS: but not really for we are still the nomadic family, just in an altered constellation with more roots. I’ll be in India this December for 7 weeks alone (long story for another day), Kobi will spend a month in Europe in the Spring, and yes, we’re all going to be in Sweden for the summer (another long and amazing story for another day!).
So, still The Nomadic Family. Come on, Kobi was even considering making it a tattoo. I love the dork to death! I do.
PPS: I have a complicated cyst in my uterus but we’ll talk about that another day. It is not cancerous, we believe, which is a great relief. This took up some time too, but either way, it and every other thing going wrong with my digestive system and back in that chakrah is yelling to be taken care of, and so I am. Accupuncture, Therapy, Naps, and more…..
Other Posts about Returning Home to Israel include:
About the Author:
Insanely unorthodox, embarrassingly honest, and on her path towards spiritual awareness, Gabi Klaf blogs about her family’s ups and downs in their now third year of non-stop budget world travel. This family of five has lived with an indigenous tribe in the jungles of Ecuador, hitchhiked throughout the world, danced with drunk Vietnamese at weddings, and hiked the entire Annapurna Circuit trek where a film crew accompanied them for the documentary movie about how The Nomadic Family is redefining modern family life. They are now spending six months in Goa, India. Gabi writes about the untold sides of family travel life, those moments that take your breath away, adventures and mishaps while globetrotting, and how bits of her soul remain in this small town and off the side of that river. She is a guitar-stumming, energy-healing, ADHD wind-loving scaredy cat. Hugely romantic, tantalizingly sweet, and hysterically funny, Gabi Klaf represents a rare Rubik’s Cube of family world adventure.
We’re out doing crazy stuff and making our dreams come true, every single one of them, and a few more that sort of flew into our mouths while we were smiling into the wind. Should you like what we are doing as a family, BUY AN EBOOK to support us, share this, tell any media source or local newspaper, leave a comment. Your footprint makes all the difference in the world friends. Gracias!
Gabi and Kobi, Dahnya, Orazi, and Solai
And, sweet new news loves: In addition to parenting, family life and trauma therapy, Gabi is now offering Make Your Dreams Come True/We Wanna Travel But.. Coaching too. Engage with Gabi!