The City of Earth and Heaven

Yerushalayim ?????????????, Jerusalem, al-Quds ????? .
A city that was built for one God, became the capital of two peoples, the temple of three religions and exists twice, on earth and in heaven. A city with a history and an quality so powerful they named a mental disorder after it.Reflecting on my experience in Jerusalem feels like standing in the shadow of Masada before sun rise. Much of my journey was like that dizzying early morning hike up Masada.Two seasons have passed since I've first lifted my eyes to Jerusalem's sandstone face, her singing minarets, her ringing sepulchres. And now that I'm struggling up the foot slopes of memory I know that I can one day return and comfortably but not rightfully call her home.The first time I arrived in Jerusalem I had the feeling that, like the winter snows, I was swept in by the hem of a long black ultra orthodox coat. Under the cover of wool, cotton and obscurity I checked into the my hotel and watched the soft light of the rising sun dance over the rooftops of a city that, once illuminated by it's own glow I would bravely crusade into. I've rarely looked back at that day, at those first instincts and impulses that allowed me to find my way in a city I never imaged I'd feel a sense of belonging in. My hours aimlessly spent wondering through ancient alley ways and sacred spaces eventually accumulated into not only days but definitive moments. A growing reverence didn't surprise me, it is the Holy City after all. I'd have coffee with a shop owner in the Jewish quarter who would compliment me on my cigarette rolling skills. I'd sit under a tree with a Rabbi who I would listen to as he answered me about Kings David's psalms and Solomon's love songs. I'll never forget the tranquil beauty of those days and the evenings spent looking at fireworks or walking on the city walls. I've learnt that with the right people by your side a touristy city will disclose some of it's most well kept and precious secrets. Those were nights filled with the scent of white jasmine under the dome of a desert sky, a timeless life in the Holy City- a pilgrim of my own soul.The day I departed I was listening to the muezzin singing the call to prayer, soaking his ancient devotionals into my memory like two parting lovers' promises to meet again. A teardrop in an ocean, a prayer on a piece of paper between two bricks in a wall. As I leave I'll cover my head and I might see you next year, in Jerusalem, after all.