What is Midburn?
Once upon a time… in a land far, far away….
The day after Midburn in Israel this year, the country was marking a religious holiday; the beginning of the Jewish festival of Shavuot — acknowledging the wheat harvest in the Land of Israel. The timing is quite prophetic if you’d like it to be.
Tel Aviv was once again teeming with beach goers soaking up the summer rays on one of the most vibrant coastlines in the world.
But… what has now become a familiar scene to me, looked so very different; brighter, fuller.
First of all — in just 3 days in the middle of Israel’s southern desert, I had not only amassed an abundance of new friends, but many new perspectives.
The Midburn city is rather paradoxical — it’s a place where thousands of people from around the world escape to — and it is there they can find themselves in their true expression — and feel absolutely found.
I was not the only one who asked this question while staring at one of the many bonfires lighting up the desert near Sde Boker this past week; why is it, that we need to travel deep into the wilderness to create a city — a temporary utopia — of which the lifeblood is love, altruism, acceptance and freedom of expression…?
Why is this kind of living not sustainable in the ‘real world’ when it functions so perfectly in this context?
But actually, what I’ve noticed upon my return, is things don’t have to be all that different in regular society.
Of course, Israeli culture operates with a market mentality… it’s rough, fast-paced and there’s a constant hustle. Many people are quick to cut you in line and rip you off… there is little respect for authority and next to no decorum.
BUT — I’ve often said that one of the things I love most about Israel is the sense of community, the openness and willingness of passersby to strike up conversation and the deep familial relationships established amongst groups of friends… at least that’s been my experience.
Now, if the latter is true of ordinary society in Israel… the country’s Midburn was just that — but on steroids.
The people who attend the festival have their eyes wide open to the completeness of life that comes from boundless human connection.
Of course, it’s easy for these simple wonders to thrive in an environment where there is this shared belief system.
But you see, if like me, you subscribe to the idea of energetic attraction, the hours following Midburn were an indicator as to why a big part of me felt that the distance between life at Midburn and my life in Tel Aviv was, in fact, not so far apart.
What it taught me is that we do not need to go anywhere but exactly where we are, in order to feel that completeness.
If we operate with an open heart and mind, with generosity and compassion — anywhere we are — people who express those same qualities are the ones we will always have around us. If we vibrate from a place of love… that is what we will receive in return.
Midburn finished on a Saturday and on Sunday it seemed I couldn’t walk more than a few hundred metres before bumping into other ‘Midburners’ with whom I’d shared the past few days.
The excitement of reconnecting was as though we hadn’t seen each other in years. The hugs were tight and the smiles were broad. It was as though, back in regular society, there was an acknowledgement that we’d all seen something… and felt something… that others around us weren’t in on.
The festival runs for 5 days — if we don’t include the set up and pack down of the city.
I arrived on the 3rd day…
I had not yet set my bags down in our camp… when three men who I didn’t know, but whose camp I’d be joining, approached me with outstretched arms… a hug.. and an invitation to sit and drink something.
After we’d become acquainted — my friends and I began to set up our tents among some 30 others who were part of our group.
My friend needed a screwdriver … I ventured just a few metres outside of our camp… to find a group of people in their 20s sitting in an area one wouldn’t think had been constructed overnight; a fully functioning kitchen, a bespoke wooden bar with shelves that had been decorated with fanciful ornaments, a kegerator (a refrigerated beer dispenser) — couches, carpets… the whole kit and caboodle. Camp XOXO – I applaud you.
Of course, these guys had the tools we needed, which they let me run off with to give to my friend, in return for the simple promise that I would come back and sit with them.
Here, they poured me a beer, gave me a necklace that only their camp members wore, gave me my choice of golden tattoo… and offered awesome conversation. I had not yet been in the city an hour.
This is a place where people are offering you things before you can even think to want them. It’s a place where there is almost more joy in giving than receiving.
Later on, walking back from a party in the stifling heat… I could see in the distance a tall, dark, spikey-haired guy, with goggles on his face and wearing brightly coloured pants, walking in my direction.
It was quite windy in the desert and by this time I was wearing a bandana that had been given to me by a stranger at that party to cover my face for my dusty journey back to camp.
Despite ice and water being one of the most valuable commodities in the desert… without hesitation, the spikey-haired man walked towards me to give me some of his ice block… before venturing onwards. We didn’t even say anything to each other. It was such a quick and sweet exchange.
The next morning my friends and I stumbled upon an acro-yoga camp after failing to find the scheduled morning vinyasa flow we’d hoped to join…
Despite the fact that none of these campers were regular yoga instructors, one of them agreed to lead us through what we ended up calling ‘social yoga’ — where by default he would lead us through a sequence… and when he’d get stuck… we could all suggest what poses could come next. We just made it work. Unsurprisingly, it was all we needed.
Then, a man with one of the kindest faces I’ve ever seen, approached me and asked if I wanted to try out acro-yoga. He was balding, wore glasses and was a little tubby — not someone you’d class as an acrobat by any stretch of the imagination…. but man, was he strong.
After a few upside down manoeuvres… sitting on his feet, shoulder standing on his palms, whacking him in the face with my hair… as you do… I thanked him for the opportunity… before sitting down with my friends.
Now, perhaps in ordinary society, this next part might have been weird — but in Midburn context it was totally normal.
Mid-conversation, I felt some hands on my shoulders — and I was being given a massage, which after just one day of walking untold distances in the desert, was the most heavenly gift. Then I was handed watermelon and an ice block by another camp member… what was this place?!
Of course these are but a few examples of daily life at Midburn.
If you want to dial it up a notch or two… I’ve heard the ‘free love’ camp is worth checking out. There was a waiting list for the waiting list when we showed up…
Moments ago, while writing this blog to digest everything I’d seen and experienced — sitting at a communal high table in a cafe in Tel Aviv — an Israeli man sits down next to me — smiles and says good morning… we chat and exchange stories about who we are and what we do… he was warm and lovely and like many Israelis, shocked that I’d choose to live here over my home city, Sydney. He told me how special he thinks it is that I took the geographical leap— and with that typical and hilarious Israeli suave — told me that now I need to marry an Israeli guy that I can love passionately and yell at… (that’s the Israeli culture, right there) and no matter what I do, this phantom husband will say to me “I am on my knees for you”.
Later — he overheard my phone conversation about an issue I’m continuing to have with my landlord and fixing my air-conditioning — still — after 13 months. Real life. (You might remember that I was in month 10 of the A/C battle in blog number 1)
Then, in a way that is so common in Tel Aviv, he offers his assistance. He tells me he has the phone number of someone who can come over and help fix the problem.
I smiled to myself — it was for exactly this reason that I was struggling to see the distance between what I’d experienced in the desert and what I experience daily in Tel Aviv; the warmth and generosity of spirit of the people I continue to meet here is astounding.
While we were chatting, the owner of the cafe, with whom I’ve become friends, came up behind me and massaged my shoulders. Hilarious. This was just like the experience I was marvelling at while at Midburn.
The desert city was just an exaggerated version of what I experience most days in Tel Aviv.
My local friends often tell me I’m too friendly — because I will speak with whoever speaks to me — but why not?
By remaining open, responsive and kind… not exclusive (well not entirely exclusive) to who we offer our attention to, life is far richer.
We can all create the world we want — no matter where we are.
To give, is to fill your own cup.
L’chaim.
