Uplifted in the North: Sunrise Over the Kinneret and a Day in Meron and Tzfat

There’s something about the Galilee that feels timeless — as if the hills, the air, and the light have witnessed centuries of whispered prayers and songs.

My day began in the quiet stillness before dawn, wrapped in a cool late-October breeze. I stepped out onto the balcony, overlooking the dark outline of the Kinneret below. The world was silent except for the faint rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of waking birds.

Then, slowly, the horizon began to shift. A soft ribbon of gold spread across the water, the first hint of sunrise painting the lake in gentle hues of pink and silver. Watching from my balcony, I felt the moment unfold like a private prayer — peaceful, humbling, and full of quiet gratitude. There’s no photograph that can really capture that glow — it’s something that settles inside you.

It was one of those moments that stops you in your tracks. No filters — just stillness, a cup of coffee in hand, and the sunrise spilling across the lake. It felt like a whisper from Above, reminding me to pause and breathe it all in.

After breakfast, I set off for Tzfat, the mystical city of blue doors and cobblestone alleys. The old stones seem to hum with energy, and every corner feels touched by spirit — artists painting verses, melodies floating from tucked-away synagogues, stories etched into ancient walls. It’s a place that reminds you to look inward as much as outward.

From there, the road wound upward toward Meron, where the air turns cooler and the energy more concentrated. Visiting the kever of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai is always an experience that’s hard to put into words — it’s not just a visit; it’s an encounter. People come with their hopes, their gratitude, their tears. There’s music, murmured tefillos, and a palpable sense of connection across generations.

By afternoon, I returned to Tiberias, a city where holiness meets horizon. The lake shimmered beneath a wide sky, vendors setting out as families strolled the promenade. I stopped for a snack by the water, breathing in the scent of lake air and possibility. The Kinneret — framed by soft hills — felt both endless and intimate.

As the day closed, the same lake that greeted me at sunrise now mirrored the soft light of dusk. The reflection of the sky rippled gently, and I thought about how the Galilee holds contrasts so beautifully — ancient and alive, quiet yet full of motion.

It was more than a day trip. It was an experience — one that uplifts, renews, and reminds you that sometimes the most meaningful journeys are the ones that draw you closer to stillness.