Hartsfield Int'l Airport, Atlanta, 7 am.

Despite the mug full of fancy, members-only coffee I just downed, it is still 7 in the morning, I have been awake for three hours already, and I did have one of the most mentally exhausting weekends in recent memory. Needless to say, the words are not flowing. I’ll do my best, anyhow.

On Shabbat afternoon, I ended up in a conversation of Burning Man, the event I only barely tasted in the summer of 2001 that so greatly altered my perception of my happiness-related needs. Not only did Burning Man expose me to a population of open-minded, growth-interested people, but more importantly, it showed me the essential need for community in which that growth can flourish. While I surely admire the concept of a Native American “Visionquest,” where you isolate yourself for days in the wilderness without food, in order to connect with the universe and have a meaningful vision, I think I’ve grown to disagree with the expectations of such a quest.

In the wilderness, alone, we may achieve a oneness with nature, a reconnection to a world we’ve grown so disconnected from through the rise of domestic culture and tradition. We may sense a closeness to Hashem only possible through the quieting of one’s mind long enough to create a space for the voice of G-d to sneak through. We may even find a sense of meaning and purpose never realized in such an contrasting environment. That said, human beings differ strongly from animals in one particular sense; while the essence of our survival mimics that of the animal kingdom (need for shelter, food, mates), and while the nature of the soul is questionable outside of mankind (can we assume a dog has a soul?), we create a great uniqueness – culture. And while one may discover an interesting counterpoint to our cultural experience while alone, starving in nature, one must struggle to learn from within that culture in order to truly reflect on the character of that culture itself. A philosopher may create amazing insight into scientific discovery, but only a scientist can perceive the connected meaning, the overarching connectivity of that discovery to the pathway of science itself. Likewise, only a reflection on culture made from within a community and as a part of that community carries a clearer understanding than any finding made through the eyes of one removed.

Now, looking back on the path I’ve taken as a seeker, an open-minded and exploratory adult, I’ve been interested in trying out different cultures, seeking to engage a culture on its own terms, in order to create meaningful reflection on that culture and it’s intrinsic workings. When I rediscovered the culture of the Jews, the culture I grew up in but never understood, I knew I had found a cultural pathway I could stick with, a culture I could delve deeper and deeper into, yielding a clearer understanding of humankind as a whole. Now, on the dawn of my trip to Israel, I’m forced to think clearly about how my path, once again, is changing.

Finally, I found a path and culture that I could learn from and as a part of, a community focused on learning and self-discovery through the lens of the human experience. Still, though, the next piece of the pathway stood amiss – I could learn from my community, but I was having a hard time learning with my community. I realize that I needed to learn the next essential skill – the transition from study to creation, or rather, the transition to study as creation. Study, in a Jewish sense, is an ever-changing beast, and while we have a natural tendency towards learning, that tendency must be nurtured and trained. Jewish study is a skill that takes years of learning to achieve competency, and decades to master. At Pardes, though, I will be starting that path anew, with a new community, an extension of the the Jewish people and culture of our own design, with a singular purpose.

What does this mean for my journey? I know several things. First, this trip is about exploring culture, inside-out; looking for the heart of the human experience through the lens of it’s own fashion, Torah. Second, this trip is about creation; I will experience the dawn of a community, and will be an integral part in fashioning it’s function and shape. And finally, and most importantly, this trip is about continuing down the path I’ve been on all along – the search for meaning, purpose, and more than anything, more questions.

Oh, and I hope the cab to Sean’s doesn’t cost too much.