Fly on It: Desert Aerial Acrobatics Retreat - Crazy As It Sounds | Israel today

Thursday at noon, Kibbutz Yahel.

I'm sitting on a mattress in a spacious studio, with dozens of other strangers, in masks.

The embarrassment in the large space can be cut with a knife.

We all look at each other, trying to build a profile or story for the person behind the face.

In the center of the studio several instructors join an impromptu acrobatics session.

They swing each other in the air skillfully, and we ask ourselves if by Saturday we will reach a similar level of performance.

I mean, maybe just for their heating.

"You're really beautiful, but no one will look at me if you keep going," jokes Gal Ronna, a super athlete and energy bomb, and the mother of the "Flying Desert" retreat.

This is the fifth time she is picking up this impressive production.

She sits down in the center of the studio in an oriental sitting position, and bursts into an opening conversation.

"We are here to comfort and enjoy each other, so take it easy and allow yourself to let go, to be in the chill," she pleads with us, adding: "Treat your body with love, and be attentive to it. No matter what the schedule, everything is fine.

The adrenaline sometimes misleads us, and even if you rest in the middle of a class, it does not make you any less good.

"And most importantly - be confident in front of yourself and in front of those in front of you. Because you are going to climb on hoops and fabrics, but also on people."

That was the stage where I wanted to run away.

• • •

It is said that in life one should know how to let go of the routine.

The ability to release is also a muscle that needs to be trained, and for a control freak like me this is a serious challenge.

My life is based on working around the clock, incessant movement, difficulty disconnecting from my mobile and thoughts, and inability to take a moment to breathe.

I too am a slave of time.

Then I had the opportunity to retreat in the desert.

I was ashamed to admit that I know very well what a retweet is, but I have no idea what a retreat is (the meaning, it turns out, is "retreat," "retirement," "refuge"), and I laughed to myself at the thought of me calming down.

In the desert.

Because as with many decisions in life, here too successful marketing and a magic word were required, mine was "acrobatics".

I was sent to an aerial acrobatics workshop, a sports retreat, a job - and not, God forbid, idle.

I was convinced.

The next step was to convince my other half as well, that there was a good reason why I was missing for three days and taking the car with me, just about the days of adjusting to kindergarten.

"Work, really. We heard about you," he told me.

"Enjoy the ashram, hope they survive you."

In the days leading up to the event, I explored in-depth research on retreats, and existential anxiety from the variety of types I would encounter.

I packed a suitcase with a variety of options that would correspond with the character I would choose for myself, for camouflage of course, and with my selection of sportswear, and I set off for four hours from Givatayim to Kibbutz Yahel near Eilat, below - the desert.

First round in place, and the senses are already sharpening.

An aerial acrobatics complex stretches next to a beautiful lake, where there used to be a failed commercial center.

From the ceiling, six meters high, hang three types of acrobatic devices that I have only seen so far in circuses or YouTube: hoops, yoga hammocks and the biggest of them all - the fly, two colorful and long pieces of cloth - on which a variety of acrobatic exercises can be performed.

The saying that in an abandoned place life can be breathed is probably true.

I meet Gal at the entrance to the kibbutz, under an avenue of tall palm trees that seem to signal the following to me, and she hurries to calm me down.

"On the first day everyone thinks to themselves, 'Oh Mae Good, where did we get to,' but it passes quickly."

She is 31 years old, a resident of Tel Aviv, with a budget background in one of the largest advertising agencies in Israel.

What about her and acrobatics in the desert?

"On one of my visits to Sinai," she says, "a few years ago, I met an Egyptian friend. She brought with her an aerial yoga hammock, and hung it on a wooden beam on the beach. One that I would never hang on to today.

"She got in the hammock and started moving, and I was intrigued. She seemed so connected to herself, everything she did seemed flowing, pleasant, relaxed and beautiful. One part of my mind told me there was no way I was doing it, but another part tickled me, And I had to feel what she was feeling. "

"Watching and asking ourselves if by Saturday we will reach a similar level of performance."

The team of acrobatics instructors in the first demonstration, Lior Rubinstein, "The Flying Desert"

Gal stepped on the hammock ("I managed to turn over, I saw the world upside down"), and that was the moment her life changed.

"I decided to take this experience with me to Israel, and create an aerial acrobatics platform here, which on the one hand makes this world accessible to everyone and does it at eye level and out of a place of mutual paragon, pan and play, and on the other hand does not compromise on professionalism and high ceilings. Fly really.

"I danced ballet in my youth, and I always felt that what I was doing was not good enough for my teachers, so I swore to myself that under my wings no one or one would feel they were not good enough."

• • •

Three years ago, she opened an aerial acrobatics course in Tel Aviv, "The Aerial Bootcamp", followed by "The Flying Desert" - a visionary and a tribute to that vacation in Sinai.

"Aerial acrobatics is first and foremost about trusting yourself, your movement, your ability to release," she explains.

"It does not matter if one experiences it in a basic exercise, and the other experiences it in 'drop' ('fall', dr), from a height of a few meters.

Everyone is coping with the same intensity with this moment of knowing how to let go, cut off hands and experience aviation.

"Wait until you climb to the top and roll over," she winks at me.

This is probably not the time to reveal to her that I suffer from a fear of heights.

After the opening talk, we immediately begin an acrobalance workshop - a couple or group acrobatics art that comes from the circus world.

We are divided into four groups, according to the level of fitness that was checked with us by phone ahead of time.

In light of being a ballet dancer and gymnast in the past, who is currently engaged in pole dancing and acrobatics (what you read!), I was advised to join one of the strongest groups.

But if there is already a chill atmosphere, I go out of my competitive gender and settle into one of the beginner groups.

On the mattress I start warming up with my partner attached to me, with me.

A guy in his 20s, who already in the first exercise had to swing me in the air.

It rises to a height of 1.90 meters, and very quickly I find myself near the ceiling.

And it's scary.

The height is frightening, frightening is the fact that I have to trust a foreign man, and despite the demand for a "green character" - the matter of touch is also frightening.

To me everyone in the environment is suspicious as a corona carrier.

It turns out that this too needs to be learned to release.

We are divided again, this time into triplets and roles: "base" - the swinging man, "flyer" - the flying man, and "bodyguard" for all this human pyramid that we are asked to produce.

I join Sharon (in her mid-40s), and Maayan (in her late 30s), who, like me, came to the retreat alone.

Their vibe is really good for me, they seem thorough enough to trust me, and ambitious enough to suit me.

And we succeed.

I find myself hoisted like an airplane on Maayan's feet, lying on my back with Sharon at my feet, and trusting the super-competitive team we have created for ourselves.

By the way, contrary to expectations, I learned that the "player" is not necessarily the lightest person in the trio.

It's all a matter of weight distribution and, you guessed it, trust.

The premiere workout is over, and we disperse to a vegan lunch break, "so it doesn't get heavy in the stomach."

Impatient as I am, I hurry to finish eating and arrive at the aerial acrobatics complex a quarter of an hour before everyone else.

In my head are already running the stunning shots that I am going to hit on the hoop and on the flight, glowing and effortless.

Then I land back in reality.

These are exactly the kind of things that seem very light on Instush, but very tough in the air.

"I dedicate myself to her just like a skydiving instructor."

Daniel and Gal in a double session on the flight, Yehuda Ben Yethach

• • •

The ascent to the hoop requires abdominal muscles, arm strength and also endurance - as it is rough and painful.

I bravely face the challenge, and manage to sit on the hoop elegantly, earning applause from my new teammates.

But in life as in life, every beautiful moment comes to an end when I look down and realize that I am a few feet above the mattress, on a hoop swaying in the desert wind.

Then I had a mild anxiety attack.

Asia, the instructor, explains to me the exercise I am supposed to try and perform, but I do not hear a word of what she is saying.

In my head I weigh the potential injury after I crash to the floor, and slap myself for bad risk management.

Did anyone say chill in the desert?

But since I'm already here, I have no choice but to grab myself with my hands, or my feet.

Die mortally with Philistines, I sew the exercise I was asked to perform and hang on the hoop with the help of the back of my knees.

The next step is to conduct tough negotiations with Asia.

She's trying to get me to let go of my hands, and I'm trying to make her realize it's not going to happen in life.

Trust in people is one thing, but trust in the mattress I do not have, Suri.

A small crowd gathered around us, and I remember getting the passon back to myself, not understanding how it happened that I was promoted to the demonstration position.

Upside down, swinging on a hoop between heaven and earth, I finally release not only my hands but also my control approach.

And the truth?

I'm flying for it.

Literally.

I look around at the beautiful and inverted landscape, breathe desert air, and try to enjoy the moment.

There, on the hoop, I realize how much I never stop.

The scratches and abrasions are equal every moment when me and the hoop become one.

I forget about the height, I'm totally in the situation.

Like a girl meeting a swing for the first time.

So that I do not feel too comfortable, the next step is to get acquainted with the flight.

Sivan, a circus artist, director and choreographer, accompanies "The Flying Desert" from day one.

She demonstrates types on the plane, ties her body using only the cloth and rolls with it all the way down.

It's definitely impressive.

And also disturbing.

I am a new immigrant.

The fabric is pleasant and caressing, but make no mistake - any passing over it, or stretching it in favor of a new position, turns it into sandpaper.

Luckily the hoop has already made me a good preparation.

Again and again I get used to wrapping around my arms and legs, until I feel like they are well cast - and start to fly.

After 20 minutes of practice on the plane, reversals and a start of happiness, Gal joins a couple session.

"Trust," she emphasizes again, "is the most important thing here."

In stark contrast to my character, I dedicate myself to her.

Just like the guide that accompanies you in skydiving (an experience I am not interested in going through, thank you).

We roll on the plane with Gal guiding me from the height: 'Here you put your hand, here you move your leg, now stretch your back'.

Create a little dance that will go really well in the story, and mostly enjoy.

From the release, and also from the moments of horror I go through.

"Put your hand here, move your foot here."

Daniel (right) with Gal Ronna,

I finish this workout with adrenaline so high I haven’t had since I finished my first triathlon a decade ago, and take a few minutes in front of the lake to figure out what exactly happened here right now.

The feeling is powerful.

My body is exhausted, but my mind is full of energy.

Tired but satisfied, we gather for an evening show produced for us by the instructors.

Presenting a purpose, if you will, during which I ask myself if these are real or bionic people.

One by one, or in pairs, they fly around us, illustrating how fundamental this art is in their identity, not just physical activity, and there is everything: self-confidence, trust, communication, touch and total devotion.

With this motivation boost, I crash into sleep.

A second before I close my eyes, I admit to myself that I am glad I came, and the competitive in me adds that come on, I have two more days to discover about myself a few more abilities.

• • •

Friday, the alarm clock rings at six in the morning.

For me it's a late wake-up call, though if for two.

With a mattress I brought from home, and saw in his life only strength training, I stand up for the horror of my life: a yoga class.

On the lawn next to our rooms in the center of the kibbutz, dozens of participants are already gathering, more alert and less alert, and in the center is the evil guide.

She believes that yoga is a presence, a movement discourse and much more than a physical body.

Or, I think to myself, here's an hour of self-assembly that will really be hard for me to survive with joy.

Well, it turns out that opinions can be changed.

I do not know if it's bad, the pleasant weather or the clear bell music, but this moment of calm just flies and rearranges my busy body.

So much so, that throughout the second day of the workshop, my aching body is already waiting for tomorrow’s yoga.

At dinner I decide that it is not good to be alone, and communicate with the environment.

Although I have built in my head the identity of tree-huggers, I find that most of the participants in the retreat are actually quite similar to me, and after a short round of acquaintance it turns out that we all have one goal: to escape!

"Right now there is an opportunity to go out and enjoy, and it is important to take advantage of every moment like this up to the next Corona limits," shares Eva Weiss, 52, from Kfar Yona, a dog trainer ("I did a conversion during the Corona period") and a mother of three.

"I'm here to take care of myself. My youngest son is a low-functioning autistic. He's charming and smiling, but there are hard days and hard times. So when I heard there was a possibility of flying in the desert, I said to myself, 'Let's fly away from home.' Love, I'm a boss to myself. "

"On the hammock I'm a boss to myself."

Eva Weiss, Yehuda Ben Itach

Keren Mogados (36) and Oren Hecht (44) from Moshav Aminadav also escape the routine, although in slightly different circumstances.

He owns a network of tennis schools, and is the principal flutist at the Israeli Sinfonietta in Be'er Sheva.

So what about them and Retreat?

Honeymoon!

"I pulled Oren here," says Keren.

"I've been following the Flying Desert for three years now, and my dream is to fly, but so far I haven't had time. For our honeymoon we wanted something active, physical, chill, with people spinning and talking."

Joint practice of acrobalance, she says, does them good for a relationship.

"Practice requires you to trust your partner, and that's a battle."

Oren, for his part, is already thinking about the next step: "We will continue with this at home as well, we will try to find such an activity together. We are very energetic people, and we need to channel our energies together into a positive place."

I decide to give up the party after dinner, both because of fatigue and because I want to be able to get up in the morning for yoga.

Yes, yes, I'm willing to give up a party in exchange for practicing yoga.

I'm definitely going through a process here.

"We wanted an active honeymoon."

Oren Hecht and Keren Mogados, Yehuda Ben Yethach

• • •

Saturday noon.

I am already after another yoga session and one last acrobatics workout that leaves me with a taste of more, settling in for the final show of the participants.

Cynicism aside - there is something exciting about seeing all the people who just two days ago clung insecurely to the walls, like me, flying in the air and giving a show.

I, of course, do not hold back and go up for a short show of my own, demonstrating the hoop exercise I had the hardest time succeeding.

Competitive people, in the end, do not change.

On the way back home I promise myself to strive and attract the feeling of liberation, the physical and mental aviation, as much as possible, and decide that this will not be the last retreat in my life.

I turn on my cell phone to share with the family the makeover I went through, and immediately crash into countless messages in the parents' digging group of parents in kindergarten.

Going into isolation.

At least I came to him calmly.

danieller@israelhayom.co.il