Today was supposed to be a landmark day, driving to Tel Aviv for the Israeli Innovation Authority's convention, a gathering brimming with potential for any startup in the climate, energy, or food tech sectors.

it promised a cornucopia of opportunities: round tables laden with the promise of grants, a stage set for pitches that could launch dreams into reality, and a bustling network of founders and potential co-founders mingling amid a feast of food and drink. It was the kind of day designed to infuse startups with the vitality to soar.

Yet, as the day dawned, it did so under the shadow of recent events that hung heavily over Israel. The nation had struck a high-ranking military officer in Iran, sparking vows of retribution that seemed poised to culminate on this, the last day of Ramadan. Tensions simmered, making the journey to Tel Aviv—a city teeming with financial prowess and now, perhaps, a target—seem more like a foray into uncertainty than a mere business trip.

But determination coursed through me, a resolve to not let fear and terror dictate the pursuit of my life's mission. With the morning still wrapped in the quietude of dawn, I embarked at 7:30, leaving ample time to navigate the unpredictable rhythm of traffic, catch the train, and immerse myself in final preparations.

However, barely thirty minutes into the journey, surrounded by the beautiful Jezreel Valley, with my hometown of Tivon receding in the horizon as I change busses off to Tel Aviv, an ominous feeling took hold. The earth trembled subtly beneath my feet, the sky turned unsettling gray. Something was weird, an intuition whispering warnings I couldn't ignore.

Reaching out to my co-founder, a being of fairy-like intuition and deep sensitivity, I shared my unease.

"Hey listen, something is off, I think I'm turning back," I texted, my fingers hesitating over the keys.
"What's up?" came his swift reply, a lifeline in the brewing storm.
"Something feels off, I'm scared of leaving Tivon, and I feel my feet are drawing back to town," I admitted, the words barely capturing the tumult inside.
"Okay, it's not the time then. Let it go," he counseled, his faith in our intuition as our guide shining through the screen.
“How can I be sure I ain’t just chickening out?” I questioned, seeking reassurance in the face of unseen fears.
“Intuition is what separates us from the rest of the abundance of tech startups. It’s the finest of human qualities, don’t worry about it,” he assured, grounding me in the trust we had built on our shared vision.

His words were a balm, affirming the decision to trust that inner voice. So, I allowed bus 826 to Tel Aviv go past me as I wait for the next bus back to Tivon, seeking solace and clarity in the familiar embrace of a local coffee shop.

As I pondered our dwindling funds and the path forward, a call shattered the momentary peace. It was my girlfriend, her voice laced with panic.

"Babe, I've been in an accident," she cried.

Without hesitation, I gathered my things and made haste to be by her side. swiftly, I grabbed my coffee, now a travel companion, and looked for the fastest route to her. I tried to hitchhike for a few minutes until fortune smiled on me—a bus halted directly in front of me, not at a stop but as if by chance, driven by the same person who had ferried me earlier. This unexpected ride felt like a small nod from the universe, that I am indeed under divine intervention.

The incident, a jarring reminder of the unpredictability of life, was spurred by frustration over skyrocketing gas prices.
Houti Iranian proxies have in the past few months pirating the Red Sea, and the Gulf of Aden, leaving all ocean traffic carrying oil to go around Africa and enter through the Strait of Gibraltar.
She had dared a risky maneuver at a notorious junction, resulting in a collision that could have ended much worse than it did.
At the garage, the mechanic's assessment offered a small relief: "Aside from the left headlight, it's not too bad. $200."

While the damage was minor, the day's events left a lasting impression. Perhaps it was sheer coincidence, or maybe, just maybe, my intuition had shielded us from a fate far grimmer in Tel Aviv. Regardless, being there for my girlfriend as she navigated this harsh lesson was where I needed to be.

Gratitude filled me, a silent thank you to the universe for its mysterious ways.
As for the convention and the opportunities missed, they paled in comparison to the invaluable insight gained: to always trust that inner voice, for it guides us through life's most turbulent storms.

Moon.