Fog Lifted

We were "treated" to three days of sandstorms here in the Arava and when I say treated I am really "euphemising" the experience much like one would refer to being "treated to a spinal tap". Sand storms here are not the ones in Hollywood movies that blur and blind leaving mountains of sand. Yes there is blowing and a fine coating of dust and grit but the two aspects that most bother me are the light and the pressure.

You certainly can not say that the Sourthern Arava is sun deprived. We have one of the highest percentages of days with sunlight in the world. No surprise Arava Power decided to locate their flagship solar array here. Ketura's hi-tech agricultural industry ALGA Technologies  thrives on the sunlight, but the light during a sand storm is different, diffused, unwavering and pervasive. Perhaps because all colors are dulled by the dust, the sunlight coming through the murk and gilings reflects off everything. Yesterday I sat opposite the window in the kibbutz dining  room opposite our nearby mountain that is home to the kibbutz "Menorah" and stands out as the official overlook of the community. Trying to even see the top of the mountain was complicated with the blinding glow that has conquered our skies. As the light overhead blinded me and I could barely make out the mountain in front of me. The light combined with the dust in the air manages to shut down any emotional reflection other than seclusion. The light and view manages to create the feeling you are occupying the only location on earth. I can't see the mountains of Jordan from here. I can't see the fields across the street. I can't even see the gate that is a mere 200 meters from me and that demarcates the property line of my home. I appear to be alone and so alone is how I feel too.

The other downer for me is the pressure. A low pressure system brings with it low depressions too. The weather plays havoc on my sinuses, lungs, and general well being. reducing me to a biological machine that is struggling through the motions liked a labored climber in the death zone. Each breath more precious than the last.

So now I can't see and I can't breath and my world has been shrunk to the 100 meters around me. I just want to go to sleep and wake up when it is over...but that is the joke. Upon waking the next morning the skies seem clearer but renewed winds blow waves of dust only to blind us again and send my respiratory system into maxed-out mode. I can practically see the solar array sucking Volts back out of the national grid as if to compensate for these days of diminished production, the algae pleading with the carbon dioxide for just a little snatch of rays, just enough to get by. The algae does well enough at night by going to sleep, but I imagine the light during a sand storm sends them into a tizzy.

Algae: Give me some of those Rads
CO2: I don't have any.
Algae: Give me some of those Rads, I say! I don't need them, I just want some.
CO2: I am a gas. I have no radiation.
Algae: I can give up sun light whenever I want. GIVE ME SOME LIGHT! NOW!

Okay so maybe this is silly when was the last time you overheard a gas talking (Please do not answer or send "interesting" emails.)

It must be like drinking lite beer, it says beer on the label and comes in a beer can, but tastes like an unfamiliar beverage and  provides no true benefit. I guess I have to drink another one or twelve to feel anything. Why?  What benefit does a sandstorm bring? If you know than please leave me alone. I enjoy being miserable sometimes. Okay I guess that is the side "benefit" of the "chamsin", I am miserable. The day passes in a blur and I retreat to the confines of my home for as long as possible armed with nose drops and other elixirs. At some point I am dreaming that I am deep sea diving and my oxygen has been cut off and I am soon awake, snorting and blowing. Finally the exhaustion and the exhaustion of this weather bring me back under the covers and before I know it it is day again.

Today I awoke to birds singing in the trees. I am reminded of Spring and the spring sunshine, not the blinding light of the sandstorm but the bright light that accentuates colors and compliments the mountains during sunset, the light that nourishes our algae and powers the cells in the solar array. I don't even need to open my eyes to know that this storm has passed. A few nostrillian breathes and I can feel it. I feel much better.  In fact...I think I will celebrate the winds of change and go back to sleep. Snooze!

Shabbat Shalom