This week we visited the Bay of Fundy, where the Atlantic Ocean punches in between Eastern Maine, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia. The tides vary by nearly forty feet at full or new moon. Yep, the water rises and falls almost forty feet twice a day, over 100 billion tons of water flow in and out of the bay twice daily. The interplay between the earth, sun and moon’s gravitational pull are responsible. Talk about experiencing the power of nature. When the tide comes into the rivers that feed the bay, it rushes in like a wave, called the tidal bore. You can hear the rush of the water. The wind picks up and the temperature drops due to the power of it all. At low tide, boats sit on the ocean floor, only to be lifted forty feet at high tide. Timing is critical for lobster fishing and other water activities. Jobs in lumbering, mining, and fishing are largely replaced by the tourism economy these days. Farming still occurs on dykes built two centuries ago by the Acadians, French farmers, who took land from the Mi'kmaq, first nations people; and were later chased out by the British.

Colonialism is an old and recurring story.

In the northern part of the bay, the Hopewell and Joggins rocks regions are composed of red sandstone. Cliffs are worn down by the power of the tide, revealing fossils and even dinosaur bones from earlier millennia. We kayaked through rock arches that vanished at high tide. The bay’s eastern/southern shore is largely granite, with rock resembling that in Africa due to the Pangaea split, when all the continents were mushed together.

Rhode Island’s tidal ebb and flow is a marvel, a variation up to six feet, but nothing as dramatic as the Bay of Fundy. However, swimming at high tide these weeks brings in noticeably colder water since the bay heats up as summer marches on. Earlier in the month, I witnessed the orange ball of the full moon rising out of the bay, a breathtaking reminder of its power. The moon reflected a wide orange swath across the calm, dark water water. These views and realities silence me with awe and keep me grounded.

I continue to be saddened by the war in Gaza/Israel and the worsening attacks by the IDF and Settlers in the West Bank. This morning, a family medicine colleague sent me a photo near her home in the Northern West Bank. (below) Her husband, three children under eleven years and she have been stranded at home for three days. She apologized for not replying to an earlier email.

I am awed by my colleagues courage and fortitude. One responded to my thoughts and prayers with the text: “Despite the bad circumstances, we have not lost hope.”

How does one respond to these horrors? How does one support colleagues and friends whose families are suffering? How does one face the tragedies in this world? There are no easy answers here.

Quoting, Rainer Maria Rilke, I can only “live the questions into the answers.”

Consider donating to Dr. Suha, who is trying to keep open and expand the only academic family medicine training clinic in the West Bank. Located at the university in Nablus, she wants to continue to offer clinical learning to students and residents, and to provide expanded clinical care to patients who cannot attend the government clinics due to limited hours, are unable to travel, and don’t have the money to seek private care during the on-going war.

Support the Only Family Medicine Training Center in the Northern West Bank.

The money is collected in pounds through a UK Charity, Foundation for Family Medicine in Palestine, which has worked to support and grow family medicine in the West Bank for nearly a decade. Your donation is tax deductible. Let your credit card make the conversion, its cheaper. Be aware, 1 pound UK = $1.30 US.

Shukran, thank you, in advance.