Maybe humour is spiritual dancing

I hoped I'd sleep for 24 hours after my 24 hour overnight flight, but I awoke suddenly and finally after 8 hours. I opened the curtains to my first view of Tel Aviv in daylight. The bright sun reflected brilliantly off the white buildings. I craned my neck to peek west from my north-facing window and saw the Mediterranean sea.

Tel Aviv view from hotel Tel Aviv view from hotel


I'd so anticipated this rest day at the beach I'd packed my beach bag in Toronto. I hurriedly got ready and some directions, then headed off at a quick pace.

Open air gym, Tel Aviv I'm impressed by the fitness of Tel Avivians. Many were jogging or biking along the waterfront, and there were open air resistance gyms shared by children and hard bodies alike. I'd work out for 6 months before I'd exercise in front of them!

Breaking for lunch at a patio, the waiter asked my order, interjecting unexpected remarks. With our language differences it took me a minute to understand his sense of humour; then I responded in kind. Humour completely changed the dynamics between us. It allowed us to find each others' hearts.


“Humour completely changed the dynamics between us. It allowed us to find each others' hearts.”


Unexpectedly becoming serious, he said, "You look like a human." I sincerely appreciated the compliment.

"Do you know Yahweh?," he asked. (Yahweh is the Hebrew name for God.)

"I'm a child of Yahweh's," I replied.

We talked for a few moments about why I was in Israel, the children's charity I work for, and I learned that he helps poor children too. Our hearts grew closer. His final statement was that he was Palestinian, shared like a confidence.

I'm sure that humour allowed our hearts to find each other. Once introduced, they could find deeper connections.

Right now, I'm captivated by dancing for peace at the wall that separates Israel and Palestine. Maybe laughter is spiritual dancing.


“Maybe laughter is spiritual dancing.”


Tel Aviv beach