Comings and Goings

20 Elul, Monday, September 15

Main Street, Limestone, ME 2010 trip

I usually begin Elul in Limestone, Maine. For the past nine years a group of us have made the annual trip, a seven-hour drive straight north from Boston to a magical place, from a different era, where the sky is so expansive you could watch it all day long. Where the blueberries grow fat and sweet on the low bushes. Where we can’t look at our phones without paying Canadian roaming rates, so we don’t look. Much.

It’s a time to step out of time, to work with our hands, be with community, hear stories, make new friends, and dig deep into our souls.

This year was our final visit to our friends in Limestone. Nearly a decade has passed, and the years have touched us all. The kids, who are now adults, independent and strong, skilled with the power tools and more importantly, skilled in figuring out how to do things for themselves. No longer children, they have lives that beckon them to go elsewhere in late August.

The parents, also more skilled, more confident. Some of us with aching backs or shoulders that limit our strength and mobility. Some of us a little slower to hear, to understand, or to move. The church people in Limestone are getting on in years, too. They used to bring us snacks throughout the day, dropping by with cold washcloths for our sweaty shoulders, leaving bottles of water and fresh-baked cookies.

Nothing lasts forever. But how do we know when the end is here? Do we wait for it to stop us in our tracks, without warning? Do we push on anyway, despite signs that we have passed the finish line? Is it possible to meet an end gracefully, without resentment, anger or fear?

It took me all year to accept this loss, beginning with a hushed conversation at the church last summer. Over the course of the year I went through Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s classic stages. First denial—this can’t be true, there must be some mistake. Then anger that we had not been given a say in the matter. Followed by bargaining, perhaps we could find a way to keep it going? Depression set in. And finally, as we packed our bags and counted each day’s “last” event:  acceptance.

We will continue the Tikkun Olam Family Work Project into the future. We will investigate a new place, a place that has all the ingredients that made Limestone work so magically and that made us love it so much. We will recruit new families and train new teens (and their parents). We have been blessed to have these nine summer visits. We have been blessed to know the warm-hearted folk in Limestone. We have been blessed to feel that our week together has been filled with meaning and purpose, as well as blueberries and potatoes. That blessing has not come to an end.

Just as we say about loved ones we have lost, “may her memory be a blessing,” it is the memory of all of those days in Limestone that will continue to bring us joy, and inspire others to carry on this holy work.

Coming to the End…Already?

17 Elul, Friday, September 12

We are halfway to Tishri. I don’t need a calendar to tell me; I just look at the moon every night. When the moon disappears and only the tiniest sliver appears, the new year of 5775 will be on the rise.

The year is almost over and I haven’t….yet. How would you fill in that blank?

A year ago at this time, we all had high hopes and great expectations. Coming to the end of the year, we often find that we are still facing the same struggles, still asking forgiveness for the same misdeeds. It is said that when the great Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev awoke each day, before beginning his prayers he would say to himself,

“Levi Yitzchak, today you are going to behave correctly -- you are going to be a good person!" 

But he then sighed and said, "But Levi Yitzchak said that yesterday as well and he wasn't such a good person for the rest of the day." 

And then he said to himself, "Never mind yesterday, today Levi Yitzchak truly means it!”

This story can be read in a defeatist way—why keep trying? Or as a rationalization—I didn’t mean it last time, but this time I do.

But now I hear that story in a more hopeful way. The sainted Levi Yitzchak is making an honest statement that we often come back where we were before. We repeat old patterns. We also come back to try again. On the outside it may even look like we haven’t changed one bit. But on the inside, we need to stop and lift up our prayer, yet again.

In her book, Return: Daily Inspiration for the Days of Awe, Erica Brown describes a tradition that her family developed which I found worth sharing. At the meal before Yom Kippur, everyone at the table receives a set of questions to answer in reviewing the past year and making adjustments for the New Year. Each year they collect the answers in a separate envelope for every individual. It contains all of the previous year’s answers. As they think about the current year, they can look back and see how far they have come.

• ·         Think of one person you have hurt this year. How can you fix it? What is one small and realistic thing you can do to make yourself a better person this year?
• ·         What can you do this year to be a better student or professional?
• ·         What is one thing you really want to pray for this year?
• ·         What is one thing you can do to strengthen your relationship with God this year?

Perhaps this has been a year of great achievements. Perhaps we have been grateful for success in struggling through life’s many challenges. As you consider what growth you have known this past year, consider the words of my colleague, Rabbi Bill Strongin, of New Paltz, NY:

This is the hardest sin of all to confess: did we create no new goodness this past year? Did we merely stumble our way through life yet another year, content with not being an evil person?  

As this year draws to a close, what goodness have you created?

Fuel for the Journey:COAL

16 Elul, Thursday, September 11

Curiosity, Openness, Acceptance, Love

I am a firm believer in the power of ritual. Whether birthdays or holidays or special days, ritual can take us beyond our immediate surroundings and connect us to something beyond.  Some people light Shabbat candles to feel connected to their parents and grandparents. Some people light Shabbat candles to feel connected to other Jews throughout the world. Some people light Shabbat candles to feel the calming presence of Shabbat. Some people light Shabbat candles because that’s simply the ritual that feels right.

Whatever the ritual, I believe that our practice open us up to develop mindfulness. Whatever we think is our own reason for doing the ritual, the practice helps increase our awareness. After lighting the candles, I settle into a different state.

People often confuse mindfulness with placid acceptance. After all, whenever I leave my yoga class, when my friend arrives for the next class she always tells me I look “blissed out.”  Before I began these practices I often thought of people who followed them as detached from reality. Blissed out.

Nothing could be further from the truth. The purpose of mindfulness is to become more aware of reality, not less. Studies have demonstrated the positive biological effect of these practices. Meditation has been shown to slow the heartbeat, helping us to distress  In that calm state we can be more open to looking at what we think and feel, all of it.

At the summer Hevraya retreat of the Institute for Jewish Spirituality I spent four days practicing a variety of mindfulness techniques:  yoga, meditation, silent meals, Torah study, davening. Our teacher, Rabbi Jonathan Slater, led the meditation sessions. One day he gave us an acronym for cultivating mindful awareness, COAL: Curiosity, Openness, Acceptance, and Love.

At this time of year, as each of us pays more attention to the turning of the season and the impending holy days, our minds and hearts can open up. Fearing judgment ourselves, we may be less likely to judge others. Instead, we can face the world and everyone in it, including ourselves, with Curiosity and Openness.

Curiosity may lead us to hear or see things that make us uncomfortable or unhappy. Mindful awareness teaches us to accept what is, even if we don’t like it. Before judging or pushing away “bad” feelings, mindfulness teaches us to notice them, embrace them, and over time, perhaps to love them. They are as much a part of who I am and what is happening in this moment as any “good” feelings.

In an unlikely source, a book on Leadership, Ron Heifetz echoes this teaching about the sacred heart, another way of thinking about mindful awareness:

“The virtue of a sacred heart lies in the courage to maintain your innocence and wonder, your doubt and curiosity, and your compassion and love even through your darkest, most difficult moments.... A sacred heart means you may feel tortured and betrayed, powerless and hopeless, and yet you stay open. It’s the capacity to encompass the entire range of your human experience without hardening or closing yourself. It means that even in the midst of disappointment and defeat, you remain connected to people and to the sources of your most profound purposes.”

In this month of self-examination, we might take time to examine without judgment, but with curiosity and the desire to learn. Learning who we are, in honesty yet without judgment can teach us to love, even what we fear. Is this bliss? Perhaps. It all depends on the moment.

Road Repair

15 Elul, Wednesday, September 10

An arm is broken

A house is falling apart

You fix it.

A heart is broken

A marriage is falling apart

The only fix happens from within.

Most Jews I know pride themselves on fixing. One of our most cherished Jewish values is tikkun olam, repairing the world, We solve problems, we give advice, we suggest solutions. We offer new perspectives, remind people how fortunate they are, try to get their minds off their problems. We are hands-on, up-front, down-to-earth fixers.

Like anything else, there is a time for fixing. And there is also a time simple to be with what is. That takes a lot more work than fixing.

Most people share their problems without asking for others to fix them. Most people simply want to be heard. Sometimes they want to talk. Sometimes they want to sit in silence. Sometimes they want to be held; sometimes they don’t want to be touched at all.

At these times, fixing can feel like criticism. Unless someone invites advice, offering it can push people in the opposite direction. When someone is in pain, first they want empathy:

“Yes, that must be very hard.”

“I’m sorry to hear about that.”

“Tell me more.”

And if it’s a mess I am responsible for, I may want to fix things because I’m afraid of the consequences. My first desire is to put things back the way they were. But they can’t go back to the way that they were if something is broken between two people. The fix can’t happen without laying the groundwork, without hearing my friend’s pain.

Remember the last time you had a problem. What did you want from people? Maybe you did want a solution. But first, you probably wanted them to hear what you were feeling and get on board with you.

In his memoir, The End of the World (cited by Erica Brown in her book Return: Daily Inspiration for the Days of Awe), Robert Goodrick notes, “There is so much that happens to the human heart that is in the realm of the unthinkable, the unknowable, the unbearable.”  It is our duty to those we care about to plumb the depths of the heart. We cannot know what another is feeling unless we listen with attention and love.

Why is this so hard? As an inveterate fixer, I know that I have felt useless when I can’t “help” by offering a solution. I don’t want to feel inadequate. I want to offer something. Yet, our full and authentic presence is something we can offer.

In this period before Rosh Hashanah, ask yourself, is there anyone I tried to “fix” this past year?  Do I need to repair that relationship? How can I do that? By starting with myself. Start with an honest assessment. Then, seek out the other person and find out how she or he feels. Offer acceptance of their feelings. Listen and speak with honesty and sincerity. And then, if you really want to fix things, open your heart and ask for forgiveness.

Looking at Ourselves in the Mirror

14 Elul, Tuesday, September 9

Jane McNally recently told me a story which took place years ago when Roman Catholic nuns wore traditional habits. It happened that a friend of hers, also a nun, went to a different part of town and saw people she had never seen before. One man who was a Sikh passed by her with his white turban wrapped elaborately around his head.

Without thinking, she said, “I would never be part of a religion that would require me to wear such a silly thing on my head.” And then she laughed, as she realized what she must look like to others.

The best part of this story, to me, was the humor that she brought to her own earnest convictions. If only we could enter into this time of self-scrutiny with the ability to laugh at ourselves.

This is the time to take a good hard look in the mirror. Who am I? Who have I become? Who did I once aim to be? Who do I believe I am? What do others see?

The Baal Shem Tov taught this great secret of Torah that “when one perceives a critical aspect in one's neighbor, what he is really observing is a defect in himself.” The faults that we most criticize in others are likely the ones that distress us the most about ourselves.  The Baal Shem saw this as a gift, a way that God opens our eyes to seek change. Whenever we notice that we are annoyed with someone else and critical of their behavior, that is the best time to consider the flaws in our own souls.

Is it possible to let down our defenses just enough to be honest about our misdeeds and at the same time to laugh at our human frailty? Can we approach teshuva without delusion and mend our ways without beating ourselves up? If we can treat our own weaknesses with understanding, then we will be even more likely to forgive others their failings as well.

The great poet laureate of Israel, Yehuda Amichai, gave us a poem from his own humble soul that can remind us to soften our judgements:

From the place where we are right

Flowers will never grow

In the spring.

The place where we are right

Is hard and trampled

Like a yard.

But doubts and loves

Dig up the world

Like a mole, a plow.

And a whisper will be heard in the place

Where the ruined

House once stood.

Keeping Track of Every Step of the Journey

13 Elul            Monday, September 8

For the past four months, I have been keeping track meticulously of everything I eat, how much water I drink and how much activity I get. This became a regular habit, so that every day I found a few minutes here and there to write it all down. I had to be honest, knowing that I could lie to everyone except myself. As time went on and I adjusted to the changes in my lifestyle, the practice of keeping track became second nature. As a result, I have been feeling healthier and stronger.

Surprising, because I don’t consider myself a disciplined person. I have struggled with food, with exercise and the inescapable weight loss and gain for as long as I can remember.

Still wary of my ability to sustain these practices, two weeks ago I decided to get a Fitbit to keep me motivated. At the minimum, the Fitbit acts like a pedometer with a coach, tracking my every step with the goal of achieving 10,000 steps a day. It also tracks the distance I travel and calories burned. For the first week, I checked my progress several times a day. If I was short a few thousand steps, I dragged Brian out for a summer evening walk. I was motivated!

The Fitbit can also keep track of food, weight loss (or gain), and even sleep patterns. This feedback depends entirely on the information I take time to log. I could even record mood swings, which can be tracked along with sleep, eating and activity levels. The monitoring process is potentially invigorating. It can also be overwhelming to keep track of so many incidentals.

I quickly came to the point when I asked myself, if I have the discipline to notice so much about myself, shouldn’t I be tracking other aspects of my behavior as well? Shouldn’t body and soul work together?

The practice of Mussar, Jewish soul-instruction, works best with daily incentives, guidelines and journaling at the end of the day, just like the Fitbit. When working on gratitude, it’s helpful to set a goal, such as saying thank you 3-5 times each day. Or working on humility, letting others speak first one time every day. These may sound like modest goals compared to 10,000 steps. On the other hand, “a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” To change our behavior is a journey of a lifetime.

Self-care, through exercise, proper eating and fitness, must lead to being a better person in the world. Otherwise, it can devolve into narcissism. I’d like someone to invent a SoulScroll to keep track of our actions. How many times did I say thank you, I’m sorry, or I love you? How much tsedaka did I give this week? How many people did I greet with a smile? These are the spiritual goals that should grab our attention in the month of Elul. Pick one, keep track and see how far you can get. Inevitably, you will not only change yourself, but you will change the world.

ROAD SIGNS FOR THE JOURNEY: It Can Wait

10 Elul, Friday, September 5

Here’s a new sign that popped up this summer:

“It can wait: Text stop 5 miles ahead”

I fell in love with the simple phrase, “it can wait.” Of course it can wait!

Yet waiting is very difficult. We are programmed to respond to that jingle, that buzz that tells us “someone needs me!”  Yet we can be better than that. We can overcome distractions and remain focused on the present, especially when we are in a life-and-death situation like traveling down the highway at speeds faster than any human or animal can run. (The cheetah has been clocked at 70 mph. What’s your highway speed?)

Wait—you may say. I’m good at multi-tasking! According to the experts, multi-tasking takes our attention away, diminishing our capacity in everything we’re doing. To say that I am good at multi-tasking is like a smoker saying that smoking doesn’t do us any harm, according to Clifford Nass, author of The Man Who Lied to his Laptop and professor of Communications at Stanford University. He explains that “when people are driving and talking on the phone or texting, that other task becomes what we call the primary task, the thing their brain focuses on.” It can wait, at least for another 5 miles.

We have to wait for lots of things that are beyond our control: we wait for a baby to be born. We wait for someone in surgery. We wait to hear about a job offer.

Waiting requires patience. To overcome our distracted minds, we can start by noticing how impatience manifests itself—the anxiety that arises, the tightness in parts of the body, increased pulse or rapid breathing. Then consider, what is the value of waiting versus acting? Count to 10. Pay attention to your breath. Sing a silly song. Find something else to take engage your mind more fully.

Waiting requires discipline. While someone else is speaking, stop thinking about what you plan to say in response and listen. While.dinner is being served to others, say a word of blessing for the food or thank the cook before taking a bite. These are habits of discipline worth inculcating in ourselves and our children to help us all be better focused.

Of course, there are occasions when waiting is the wrong response. Just this week, quick-thinking and quick-acting strangers at a T station jumped to save a man lying on the tracks, stopping the train just 50 feet away.

It can wait. The email. The text. The tweet. Not just while driving our cars, but while navigating our everyday lives. I know it's hard. I can't tell you how many times I was distracted while trying to write this message.  Were you distracted while reading it?