Why are we waiting to savor something ephemeral with excuses like, “I don’t have time,” or “It just isn’t convenient,” or “I am leaving soon, so what’s the point?” This morning, having returned from the bucolic calm of the north to the frenzied rhythm of Jerusalem’s Old City, I opened my refrigerator door to see three brown glass containers full of beautiful yellow and white chrysanthemums which had gloriously graced my terrace table for recent Shabbat guests. Since I am at my Galilee house during the work week, and in an effort to preserve them longer, I always put the flowers in cold storage when the weekend closes.

Even though the flowers are fading, their beauty brings a smile

I only have a few days remaining in my beloved city before a flight to the US. I stood with the fridge door gaping, warning bell annoyingly signaling “DOOR AJAR,” and I debated whether to get flowers out and enjoy them for a little while longer or just throw them in the trash. Today I chose to savor the beauty, embrace the moment, at least in a small way.

In an effort to squash thoughts of futility I triumphantly carried the three fading two-week-old bouquets to my terrace table. I tossed on a tablecloth, popped up the patio umbrella for some shade, pulled the table into that shade, but didn’t go to the ½ hour set-up trouble to get the canvas pergola cover on and bring out all the chairs and cushions, “since I am leaving soon and why waste the effort?” How much of our lives do we live in that zone of squeezing the joy right out of our could-have-been moments?

Room with a view

As I stared through the flowers toward the golden Dome of the Rock, searching to find some inspiration for this journal, something occurred which I had never seen in over seventeen years of observing life and landscape from my room with a view. This is a never boring, always intriguing ancient city. A powerful spray of water came shooting up from below the dome, drenching that western section of the gold-plated dome. It was ephemeral. There was only enough time to grab my camera and capture a photo of the oddity which lasted only moments. No explanation. No repeat performance, but it triggered a story idea.

Small details catch my eye in this ancient city where oddities amuse

My downstairs neighbor, Faizeh, shares the terrace with me where we both hang our laundry to flap dry in the Middle Eastern sunshine. Faizeh’s entire being emanates sunshine. Gary used to describe her as “an artesian well of joy.” She arrived with her second basket of laundry for the day and I quickly ran inside my apartment to retrieve two small potted pansy plants which had been given to those of us attending a memorial service for a “closer than a brother” friend named Ariel, who died a few weeks ago. As the nearly one hundred guests departed the memorial service we were instructed not to keep the plants for ourselves, but to give the plants away to someone whose day would be brighter because of the gift. The tag on each plant said, “Take time today to give love away.” And that is exactly what I did.

Faizeh receives the gift with childlike joy.

Sea Captain Ariel Cook was a man who relished giving himself to others, and OH, how he gave so much to so many. Ariel had lived an adventurous life piloting mega yachts in the Caribbean, Mediterranean, and South Pacific Sea and was a surfboard aficionado and builder. He was head of the astronaut rescue team at Cape Canaveral where all of his team later died from the toxic emissions of 13 space launches and he owned an antique gallery specializing in Oceanic Art and Artifacts. He was a renaissance man.

Nine years ago in North Carolina, Ariel was surfing the internet and a “pop-up” advertisement for Ancestry.com caught his attention. He experienced an invisible nudge to send in his DNA sample. Results returned which would change his world. He discovered his Jewish roots and was notified that he was the missing link in a long Jewish line which included explorer James Cook who was Captain of the British Royal Navy, as well as being a descendant of the first Chief Rabbi of Jerusalem, Rav Kook. During the 1600’s an entire British town of Jewish residents came under threat and overnight converted to Catholicism, including Ariel’s ancestors and the town rabbi became a priest. Ariel Cook chose to seize the moment and in light of his discovery, he and his wife, Cindy, followed their hearts and quickly sold everything for a move to Israel.

Words of a Roman poet urge us all to “seize (or literally pluck) the day,
knowing that the metaphorical flowers will fade and
we must enjoy while we are able.

We shared our roof with Ariel and Cindy for a season after their immigration. They lavished their love on Gary and me throughout our Galilee home renovation, at countless gatherings at The Place of Stories, trudging with us during Gary’s cancer journey, and attending to watering my plants and house maintenance up until Ariel’s own cancer diagnosis left him weak with only a few remaining months. He has now left a huge hole in the community.

Ariel’s well-worn Bible, two surfboards brought from the States 8 years ago but never once catching the surf in Israel, Gary’s shoes which Ariel loved wearing and other mementos stood as a tribute to the man we came to honor.

What does your invitation to savor the beauty look like today? Open your eyes, pay attention to the details, and don’t shut the fridge door of your mind on opportunities to embrace those people around you—to stop and smell the roses. Why are you waiting? Carpe diem!

Enjoying the walk home,
Cindy