I stepped off a modern innovation into the cradle of civilization. After 12 straight hours of travel from the United States, I had finally arrived at Ben Gurion International Airport in Tel Aviv, Israel. Though the concept of visiting Israel was old, and obviously so was the country, within a four-month span I went from having minor summer plans to having a highlight with a ten-day trip canvassing the country. Though the ways of life were old—the religious element, the tradition, the contrast between rural and urban—everywhere I looked I saw rebirth. In the mountainous terrain in north Israel (Rosh Hanikra) there were sea-carved rocks and caverns, forged over thousands of years but further shaped by the handiwork of man when geography became geopolitical. At the Mediterranean city of Acre, historical fortresses, places of worship, ways of living collided with the modern needs of the local population. A thriving market emerged, not only providing goods to help sustain the area’s residents, but also promoting the tourist trade surrounding its origins and proximity to the city of Haifa. Over the next eight days, I continually learned about how Israel’s renaissance unified its origins with a new world order; its adaptation mirrored my own over a much more condensed time frame. I saw the Sea of Galilee, where the Bible documents Jesus walking on water and performing many miracles. In contrast, my experience revealed the modern marvels of technology; Israelis proudly spoke to me about the techniques that allowed them to effectively conserve, reclaim, and desalinate the lake’s water, providing a viable drinking source in an arid area. While honoring the roots of the region, the country had transformed the city of Tiberias by innovations borne out of necessity and want. The prominent Christian landmark of the Sea of Galilee was juxtaposed with my exposure to Tzfat (perhaps best known as the birthplace of Kabbalah), one of Judaism’s Four Holy Cities. Though Tzfat flourished in the Middle Ages, conquests had mired its development through centuries of conflict between Arabs and Jews. The city’s orientation settled in 1948, when the Jewish established a stronghold despite days of mortarshells pounding the mountainside and the structures dotting its landscape. In the years since, the city’s Jewish population has expanded threefold, and dedicated efforts have been made to restore religious life by excavating many holy buildings buried in the rubble or lost to the tests of time. Though the history and tradition most challenged my worldview, seeing all of the scientific discoveries and innovations developed throughout Israel reinforced how pivotal the past and present are. Israel is the birthplace or Orcam, a device to help the visually-impaired adjust to performing everyday tasks like reading, identifying people, and navigating spaces. Everyday applications like Waze, which centralizes maps, directions, and road alerts, were also developed in the country. Perhaps most notoriously, the Iron Dome, Israel’s missile defense system, was a response to the constant barrage of warfare that marks everyday life in Israel. Cities like Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, most commonly associated with the “irrationality” of religion have become scientific hotbeds of change in a global environment. Across the time and space of my Israel travels, I stared in wide-eyed wonder as an awareness of the many millennia that preceded my arrival unfolded—a contrast to my childhood, where even the United States’ nearly 250-year history seemed abstract and farfetched. How could George Washington and the legend of the cherry tree be real? Who was there to witness it? Yet there I was in the “land of milk and honey,” and for all of the religious texts that present some version of the area’s truth stretching back nearly 6000 years, the supernatural was unequivocally true. I experienced it. As I document my travels, I find not that I provide additional insight into humans have shaped Israel, but how Israel has shaped a human: me. I am but a blip among the many who have traversed the canyons, the coasts, and the cities, but I am one who can shape the world. In mysticism of Israel, the old became new, as I gained a worldlier orientation by opening my thirty-year-old eyes and my responsibility to mankind.