If Life Is A Game

Sometimes I feel like a character in a video game. I'm the protagonist stuck playing an endless loop of whatever level I'm running in, ducking attacks from oncoming obstacles, and I'm high-jumping, sometimes picking up coins and prizes, but other times totally and completely missing them.

Occasionally the path is clear, and I need only my momentum to keep me going. Other times the way is strewn with hurdles, and I must strategize to get over or around them. There are Bowsers that block the way to my goal, and I need to work hard fighting them off to keep them from capturing what is most dear to me.

I think I need some cheat codes.

Planning Ahead

One of the things I hate the most about this stage of life is not being able to plan effectively. Besides for it being distracting, always having this "other" priority on my mind aside from what's in front of me at any given moment (talk to/meet this person, look into that name, find out who knows so-and-so, network, follow up that idea, etc etc), I also just don't know when I might need to free up time to go on a date. Maybe it sounds ridiculous, but I like to keep busy, and I hate having to back out of commitments. It's a J thing.

As a current example, even just arranging a vacation is complicated. My friends and I have given up the "I have no idea what my life will look like in two months; maybe I'll be dating the guy of my dreams and won't want to go away for a week," yet the uncertainty of the future bites in other ways. Of course all of our top destination picks are Zika-infected, so we've decided to avoid them. (There goes my French Polynesian honeymoon too I guess. Tears.)

Here's the catch: how likely is it, even if one of us started dating someone with serious potential tomorrow, that we would want to start a family eight weeks (and the CDC suggests a six months waiting period for guys) after being exposed to the possibility of getting bitten by a potentially Zika-carrying mosquito? Ch"vsh should any of us contract Zika, it isn't even proven that Zika causes microcephaly in newborns. And, it's only a virus, like the flu, that lasts less than a week, only of which 20% of infected people exhibit any symptoms at all, of which are relatively mild. On the off chance we might meet The One and have a really quick dating/engagement period and decide to start a family right away, we shouldn't go somewhere where there's a chance of getting Zika and an even slimmer chance of it affecting this theoretical newborn. Although, it seems Zika is frightening enough, I guess, because the CDC has issued travel warnings, and scientists are scrambling to learn more about it and produce a vaccine.

We don't take a gamble on health/life. Plan for the unknown even if it's super unlikely to happen.

I was debating this point with someone (married) recently, and she said that you never know when or what is going to happen. She didn't agree with me that you can at least know who you're going to face this ambiguous life with or what sort of general path your life will take. "Anything can happen," she said. That may be true, but really, once you're married you're even just that much more settled. It's less likely that something will happen that will cause you to relocate and rearrange your whole life. Super life transitions can happen at any time, but they're a number of "regular" transitions that are likely to occur, and these type of things are statistically less likely to happen out of the blue. Maybe it's hard to empathize with this feeling if you've never been here.

Somehow, no matter what, dating always takes precedence. "Don't you want to get married?!"

Can A Girl End A Date?

Who made up these rules anyway?

Is it a gender roles thing, the reality that it's his mitzvah to find his missing half, plain and simple old school gallantry, or is it something that's just become the norm? I'm referring to, of course, the fact that the guy runs the date.

He usually picks her up, unless they meet somewhere. He's generally responsible to organize the date (at least the first few). He plans on directing the conversation. He pays. He ends the date. Etc.

What if the girl wants to go home? Is it okay for her to say something?

The one time I ended a date, I didn't hear the end of it. It was a second date, which was quickly turning into a repetition of the first. I felt like I was running the conversation, and I was working hard. I can generally talk to anybody for long periods of time about anything, so when I feel like I'm stretching for discussion, it means we just don't click. After about three hours of that, it was late. I had work early the next morning, and I felt like we were wasting our time. After excusing myself and then returning, which I thought was hint enough that I wanted to leave, I asked him if he was ready to go.

He told the shadchan, "I want to go out again, I had a good time, but I don't think she wants to. She asked me to take her home." The shadchan was upset, my parents were upset, and everyone gave me flack for that one for days.

It's a lot of pressure, doing all this orchestrating and having to pick up subtle cues from a female too. Perhaps it would be easier if we just told our date what we want. I doubt a guy wants to keep a girl out under duress.

Although, with a different fellow on a first date once upon a time, the end of the night found us back in the lobby of the hotel where we had met up. It was another situation where it was late and I had at least an hour's drive home, and I wasn't particularly enjoying his company. I stopped responding as in depth, quit introducing new tangents to the conversation, and I just let the dialogue sort of peter out. After a beat or two of silence, he asked me, "What are you thinking?" I responded, "I'm thinking how it's late and I have to be at work tomorrow morning." No dice. His reply, "Well, I'm not sure what to do here, because I don't have to take you home. I'm enjoying your company, so I don't have to figure out how to end the date." We talked for a few more minutes and then I brought it up again, jokingly asking something along the lines of if he needed help to end the date. He told me that it's a big responsibility that he's not sure he could handle, and he again put it out there that he's not ready to depart from my company. At that point I told him that I would gladly take the responsibility of ending the date, stood up, thanked him for meeting me, and we parted ways.

So there's that.

A completely different guy I dated voiced that he's always surprised when a girl takes initiative/tells him what she wants to do on a date. Did you not just ask me if I wanted to go to that venue you suggested, or was that a pretense and I was just supposed to nod my head and agree?

We live in the 21st century. I'm not suggesting that I need to drive, pay, be in charge. In fact, I appreciate chivalry, for a guy to plan a date, open doors for me, and make sure I'm taken care of. I just don't understand why girls are oft bidden to be seen but not heard.

Spotlight on Myers-Briggs: Can A Textbook J Marry a Textbook P?

Although it's not Toras Moshe M'Sinai like some people seem to regard it, Myers-Briggs (M-B) typing is helpful in many ways. It helps us understand how we're all different, we each operate from different places and experience the world differently. Practically, this understanding regarding how something someone does is a part of his personality and not a lack of middos or a personal affront can help you to appreciate and get along with him better.

M-B relationship experts suggest that any two well developed individuals of any combination can get along with each other, and in fact, they say that J's compliment P's and vice versa, but strong J's and strong P's will have the hardest time getting along. An example would be in the P that balks at even being typed, boxed into a four letter identity, while the J loves that everyone can have a label.

Time, commitments, decisions, and just things in general are much more fluid for P's. A very strong P is the type that books travel in the Uber on the way to the airport, and his itinerary takes shape as he experiences his destination. The J has things planned out and booked months in advance with lists and reservations taken care of orderly and responsibly.

As a J, I used to think that P's were just irresponsible and couldn't get it together. For me, when I say something I mean it, and I try really hard to not back out of commitments, even if it's just a simple, "I have to go, I'll call you back." I need for words to be kept, for things be defined, and for ambiguity to be resolved.

I wouldn't say that I'm a hardcore J, as I am pretty easygoing about a lot of things. I frequently color outside the lines, agree with my imagination, and often laugh at the rules. I do enjoy some good spontaneity every now and again. However, I can say that I can keep up with the best of the J's that are exasperated by P's who seem to not know what's up and what's down.

There was this one guy who showed up for our dates, two in a row, without any plans. The first date he got a pass, because it was an unfamiliar city and all that, although I do expect a guy to have some sort of idea what do once he picks me up. The next date, which was the next evening, was even more perplexing to me. He had traveled in to date me; that was the only assignment. Somehow, he got distracted and decided to go snowboarding, because he had the day to himself. He lost track of time, got sidetracked or somesuch, and he arrived for our date a couple hours late, having not eaten since breakfast, with no idea what to do once I was in the car with him.

That type of P, though exciting and intriguing in other ways, just doesn't work for me. I personally can't get along with someone so all over the place. Although, I do think that I could do well with someone less J than I am, because he would chill me out a little if he didn't grate on my nerves. Opposites attract and all that.

Verdict?

Probably a strong P and a strong J would not get along easily, but as always, if both of the individuals worked on their understanding of personality differences and developed their personality traits, they could thrive in a relationship, each trait complimenting the disparate one in their spouse.

I'll Do What I Want If I Choose

Don't tell me what to do. I don't know you; you don't know me. When is it ever okay to tell a stranger what to do?

Simchas Torah night we thought we had it all planned out. Armed with a positive mindset (even minus any alcohol), a group of us decided to make our way into the fray of marrieds and their children dancing away the night.

I was all about realizing that I might be without a husband and/or children to support and encourage in the ways of Torah, as of yet, but being single doesn't define me. And, this holiday isn't about me. It's about Torah, and we each have our own way of being koneh it.

Being single, in fact, gave/gives me a chance for self discovery –– a self awareness that may have otherwise gotten swallowed in a relationship and/or family life. All those people that look at us and feel sorry for us, I pity them. They likely didn't get a chance to develop their individuality. It isn't a contest, but I'm definitely not any worse off because my path is different than theirs, that my journey deviates from their norm.

I digress.

In one shul we visited, the matzav was shvach, and it was all about the social scene. We had more exciting venues on our agenda, and so, after a few minutes, I sought out one friend who was stuck talking to a neighborhood woman. I know this woman didn't know who I was, because seconds before she had asked me my name. For context's sake, her daughter, now married with a handful of kids, was in my high school class. Either way, I turned to my friend and said, "Where's so-and-so and so-and-so? We should go."

The woman looks at me, tsk-tsk's ever so softly, and says, while shaking her head condescendingly, "You don't have to leave."

I'm sorry, why are you telling me what to do?

Admittedly, I don't really know what she meant and what she was thinking when she said that. I am sure that I'm probably making a big deal about nothing, but I honestly am still puzzled why she felt like she should say anything at all. Perhaps it's the cynic in me that just assumes that she felt sorry for us, a group of wandering single girls, no base to tether us. She was welcoming us into her warm arms, her shul, her home base.

That's sweet, but not all those who wander are lost.

Please don't tell me what to do, and don't assume I need your pity.

Eis Ratzon Vs. Segulos

Hoshana Rabba: "a great amount of saving."

It's the last day before the din of Rosh Hashana/Yom Kippur is sealed. The gates of Heaven are slowly closing, and it's an auspicious time for tefillah. It's one of the occasions during which our prayers are more readily accepted.

Of course, davening every day is just as important. But, this is a time that our tefillos are boosted, and we would be foolish to not take advantage of this.

Utilizing an Eis Ratzon is different than engaging in segulos. A segulah is something that is said to bring about positive things; how it works though is beyond our logical understanding. Not all segulos can be lumped together, of course, and some decidedly have more merit than others.

Reciting Shir HaShirim/Perek Shira/Karbanos HaNissim for forty days, sponsoring Torah study, saying Shir HaMaalos in Elokai Netzor, praying at the kever of the Zviller Rebbe Monday/Thursday/Monday, davening at Amukah, davening for someone else's yeshuah, making/taking challah, lighting Shabbos licht, saying the whole Sefer Tehillim, getting a bracha from a rebbe, partaking from sheva brachos wine, giving money for hachnassas kallah, etc. maybe are all (mostly?) worthy pursuits, but do they directly affect whether you will find your zivug soon?

Perhaps they're hishtadlus, and some are legitimate mitzvos and worthy of their own accord, but like all hishtadlus, you "put in" one place and the yeshuah comes from another. At the end of the day, there isn't really any one thing we can do that will ensure we will receive a yeshuah. However, I do know that life is about our relationship with G-d, and tefillah is one great medium to work on that. Make fun of segulos all you want, but a time when our davening gets where it's going a little bit easier is an occasion we should not pass up.

Obsessed with Shidduchim

Around every frum Shabbos table, coffee table, and even pool table, "shidduchim" is constantly talked and debated about. Frum literature discusses the topic to death. A large percentage of this year's Sukkos (really every year's every yuntif) magazines' fiction stories for light reading entertainment are about dating and marriage.

Why are we so infatuated with the subject? 

Granted, we live in a culture that is obsessed with love. If you turn on the radio you hear love song following love song. Romance movies are likely the highest grossing films, and in almost every novel you pick off the shelf, the protagonist has a love interest.

Is "shidduchim" our "kosher" version of this?

Humans are hardwired for connection; neuroscience proves it. Psychology too suggests that love and relationships are super important. One corroboration is psychologist Abraham Maslow's “hierarchy of needs” theory, which outlines innate human necessities of psychological health culminating in self-actualization or fulfillment. His hierarchy of needs places love and belonging directly following physiological needs such as oxygen, food, water, sleep, etc, and physical safety needs like shelter, physical health, etc. Love and belonging is a basic necessity that must be met before a person can begin to achieve other higher needs.

Dr. Brene Brown is well-known for her research on human connection: our capacity to love, empathize, and belong. She talks about how as an infant connection is survival, but as one matures, connection becomes about thriving emotionally, physically, spiritually, and intellectually. 

Perhaps we're obsessed with other people's love lives because we’re wired to connect; we want to love, be loved, belong. Connection is extremely powerful, tremendously important to our health and happiness, so we're interested how this happens. If we aren't reading romance genre fiction, then our sensationalized frum literature will have to do. 

Or maybe we just like to read, and talk, about contemporary issues, and shidduchim sure hits that requirement.

It's may be entertainment for frum society at large, but this is our life. Some respect please.

If Sukkos is Zman Simchaseinu, Why Does it Hurt so Much?

I guess I should consider myself lucky; all my married siblings live in Israel (and stayed there for yuntif). Plus, the one who used to argue with me about the choices I was making finally stopped. Either he's matured in his old age (not that he's that old, he just happens to have a handful of children now and other things to worry about), it happens to the best of them eventually, or he's feeling sorry for me and doesn't want to rock the boat. I hate pity, but if it helps us get along, I'll take it.

Someone asked me if I'm going to spend Sukkos in Eretz Yisroel. As if I don't have a job here I have a responsibility to and must put in some hours erev yuntif and chh"m. (Plus seems like working those times makes this easier.) But either way, the last time I was in Israel was actually a little painful for me. Don't get me wrong, I'm in love with the Land, and I have some pretty cute kiddies over there I wish I saw more often, but everyone there is...married. If they're Israeli, they're married by 17, and all the Americans, aside from the young'uns, are there with their spouse. I just don't fit in.

As much as they're special and joyous times, at this stage, Yamim Tovim hurt. They're hard. A time that's focused on family (which I obviously do not yet have), a time that everyone packs into a house that wasn't meant for a growing number of couples and their cute, but rambunctious, kids, a time that everything that I do gets disdainfully judged by sheltered and self-righteous relatives, but mostly the fact that I'm still not married gets rubbed in my face, and I try to find my place within all the gaiety.

Just because I'm here without a spouse doesn't negate that I'm an adult, just like every other adult here. That does not mean that I would like to share a room, babysit your children, or do all your errands. Please don't tell me what to do, the young marrieds (who I will add, some of which, are younger than me) don't get that treatment.

It's Shabbos, and the silverware, having just been washed, is in a jumble. Female family member in question looks at me and says, "I can't set the table with this, it's boreir. Learn the halachos." Uh, m'yad, b'yad, oichel m'toch p'soles. I have the same Bais Yaakov education as you do. I didn't forget Hilchos Shabbos just because high school was a long time ago and I went to college after seminary. You learn the halachos. "Okay, well, happy to be your Shabbos goy. I'll do it myself."

You would think that everyone's learned their lesson by now and would have ceased making comments like "Next yuntif you'll be here with your husband." I feel left out and lonely and incomplete, all without your help. Don't be an unwitting Penina; I'm in enough pain as it is.

All I want is to share in the simcha. I want a husband and children to nurture, love and support (emotionally) –– a family of my own –– instead of just watching everyone else's from the sidelines. I want to unpause my life, create a bayis with someone I cherish and respect, bring the Shechinah into our home and to our own Shabbos table. I want a chelek in Torah and to teach my kids love of Hashem and Yiddishkeit. They are all spiritually worthy goals...

On Simchas Torah as I will stand around with my (long since) married friends watching their husbands and kids whirl around celebrating something that comes from a sense of accomplishment and resulting joy, I wonder will I ever have a chance at celebrating/supporting Torah like that?

Words Spoken To Yours "Unspoken"

Of the many perils of reading frum literature...

Mishpacha magazine, in their Family First supplement, runs a column called "Words Unspoken," which provides a forum for random individuals to vent or share personal insights with Mishapacha's readership about subjects which apparently they're too reticent to actually voice in real life. Or they just need a soapbox.

The Sukkos edition features a letter written by "A Former Single" who just wants to let all singles know that she used to be them and feels their pain. Beautiful.

"I feel like a fraud," she voices.

"I know how you feel," she sighs.

"Please don't walk away when there is a group of us talking about bedtimes and sheitels," she frets.

Oh. No. You. Didn't.

I understand you get how this feels having been there not too long ago yourself; however, if you do, then don't be like all those people who caused you pain back then. You will remember that you don't want your married friends telling you what to do and how to feel. And, if you want us to stay and catch up, then don't talk about married things.

It's really nice that you're trying to empathize, and I'm truly sorry that the pain of being single for too long didn't go away after you got married and had children. But, you no longer have a foot in this world. You need to move on and start forgetting that hurt, being happy with what you have now. You're not one of us anymore. Don't worry, if you remember, it isn't an exciting exclusive club.

Joy = Connection

We completed the avoda of Rosh Hashana, being mamlich Hashem, leading us to do teshuva on Yom Kippur for all the wrongdoings we'd done, which then created a closeness between us and G-d.

Let us not allow it to end there. 

It's easy to breathe a sigh of relief when Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur are over. We've done the work; we did teshuva. Hopefully we were judged as righteous and a year of good is awaiting us. Now we can relax a little... 

But, as we lean back and relax our vigilance, haunting captivating strains, the melody of Olam HaZeh, beckon us. We each have a path that we cannot help but follow, one that will chv"sh lead to spiritual tragedy if we follow the inclinations that lure us into their inescapable grasp. We are blinded, and we rationalize, justifying why things may not be damaging to our spirituality...

It is at these moments when the music is so pulsating, so enchanting, that we need some way to combat it. 

This is Sukkah. 

It is a simple spiritual place where Hashem shelters us. It is a safe haven, a hallow, where the captivating materialism of Olam HaZeh cannot reach us. It is a place that will help us attain the closeness to HK"BH that our tefillos during the Yamim Noraim helped us glimpse. Sukkah can help us realize where true happiness comes from and ignore the confusion of "maybe I can live with this distance between me and G-d."

On the second day of Creation, division was created; Hashem separated the waters into upper waters and the lower waters, creating heavens and earth. For this reason, on Monday, Hashem did not say “Ki Tov,” because there is something inherently not good about separation. Chazal tell us that someone who did not see the water libation during the Simchas Beis HaShoava never experienced authentic happiness. Why does pouring water engender such intense joy? Says R’ Hutner, this is the truest sense of happiness there is -- the (re)connection of the mayim elyonim and mayim tachtonim (upper and lower waters).

Connection is simcha. Genuine happiness comes from accomplishment, or perhaps from peace of mind. When we reach this level of connection to G-d, we have both. Relationships take effort, and dveikus with Hashem is no different. When you reach a level in a relationship where there isn't a "me and a you," only a "we," then you know you've made it.

Chag sameach!

Jellybeans and Emunah

If we each have a jar that's in need of filling in order for us to get married, then hishtadlus can be likened to jellybeans.

It's the emunah/hishtadlus balance. The more emunah you have, the less hishtadlus you need. Because we're not on the level of having 100% pure faith and trust in G-d, we have a jar that needs filling.

Some of the jellybeans might be tasty colors, like green, blue, and pink. Others, may be not as appetizing.

According to this analogy, my friends and I started rating shidduchim (by how complicated they are) by jellybeans and jellybean flavors. The more I have to put it in for a situation, ie. the harder something is, the more jellybeans I earn.

It actually makes things a little easier, putting them into perspective like this.

We just wonder why some people's jars seem to be ever so much larger than others'.

Shout out to Monday Jellybeans LLC!

Happy Birthday!

Happy belated birthday you-know-who-you-are. (I'm honoring your wish to not actually tell you happy birthday...hope this doesn't get held against me!)

Happy birthday to me
I didn’t think I’d ever be
Like those who bemoan
Another year to have grown

I know it’s a blessing
But it’s kind of depressing
Older a year but still unwed
Facing loneliness ahead

I am grateful for continued life
But I want to be a wife
See, the older I become
The longer I could’ve been a mom

Though time continues to march by
I feel like I’m on standby
Ready and waiting but never chosen
My life feels kinda frozen

I’m scared to be another year older
Even though it’s just a number
The older you are the more
You must have to account for

In our society that means family
But that’s just not my reality
I’m still single with nothing to show for
So all these emotions come to fore

Well happy birthday anyway
It doesn’t happen everyday
Go celebrate and have fun
Live life how it should be done

It isn't the years in your life that count, but the life in your years. You've lived so many fulfilling years with so much to show for it. You're an amazing person, with a great job/career (and paid off student loans!), and you continue working on yourself every day to be the best person you can be. I am a fan of yours! Whoever you do marry (very soon) will be incredibly lucky! Ad meah v'esrim in continued health and happiness together with all those you care about. May this year be a year of bracha, hatzlacha, shalom, shalva, osher v'osher...

Is Your Master In Your Pocket?

As it's erev Yom Kippur, I'm going to share a thought that Rabbi Yissocher Frand, in his annual Teshuva Drasha this year, imparted. (Actually, the inspiring part is at the end. Skip to the bottom if you don't have time for some of my own reflections and ramblings.)

He spoke about smartphones. (Actually a few rabbanim talked about phones this year. It's kind of frightening that this is the issue, addressed during a time of year reserved for heavy duty mussar.)

I can almost see you rolling your eyes right now at the smartphones speech. Seriously.

But, this is why Rabbi Frand rocks. He can get away with talking about whatever he wants, and people listen. He wasn't suggesting that we get rid of our phones or password protect our applications. He simply pointed out that humankind has greatly deteriorated in the past decade or so due (at least in part) to smartphones.

Rabbi Frand cited a NY Times Op-Ed piece written by John Spencer, a Major in the US Army, regarding his tours in Iraq. In 2003 the platoon needed to rely on each other for everything, as the connection they had to the outside world was limited to the occasional airmail letter, package, or infrequent call from home. Cell phones were nonexistent. In 2008, his second tour, they had 24-hour internet access, and when they weren't on patrol they were busy connecting online to everyone but their fellow brothers in combat.

Spencer writes,

The term “band of brothers” has become almost a cliché to describe how the close personal bonds formed between soldiers translate into combat effectiveness. Yet my combat experience in Iraq suggests that the kind of unit cohesion we saw in past wars may be coming undone because of a new type of technological cohesion: social media, and too much connectivity.

Studies show that people check their phones every 6.5 minutes, on average. People become increasingly uncomfortable when their phone is not in their close vicinity. Rabbi Frand asserted that cellphones are damaging the very fabric of society. We're completely distracted, as this thing in our pocket will beep, buzz, or vibrate at any time, and we feel compelled to pay attention to it, sometimes to the detriment of others in our immediate presence. Parents/spouses are only half there. When speaking to someone face to face, it's difficult for us to give them all our attention.

MIT professor and media scholar Sherry Turkle writes in her book, Reclaiming Conversation, that because we're primarily communicating electronically, and we don't talk face to face, we're diminishing our ability for empathy and relationships. Rabbi Frand posited that this means that we're losing what it means to be a Yid -- rachmanim/byshanim/gomlei chasadim.

He brought the example of someone who told him that his teenage daughters don't know what to do with themselves at the Shabbos table, and it is impossible for them to have a conversation that doesn't take place via texting. Is this what we've come to? He contended that this means that we're producing a generation that cannot communicate effectively and cannot then have effective relationships.

My question then, is this (just) the life of Post-Millennials (also known as the iGeneration), or are we, Millennials, doomed as well? Can we communicate without our phones? Can we build healthy relationships? Are we so distracted by the master in our pocket?

"Distraction is the only thing that consoles us for our miseries, yet it itself is the greatest of our miseries." (Blaise Pascal)  

Interestingly, Rabbi Frand shared, we learn the halachos of blowing shofar from Yovel. Why do we learn the halachos about something we do yearly from something we do only once every 50 years? This is because shofar represents freedom. Just as all slaves go free during Yovel, so, too, the shofar we blow at the end of Yom Kippur represents us unshackling our bonds that tether us to the Yetzer Hara. Yes, we can be bnei chorin, and we can control the master in our pocket (and all the other little guys sitting on our left shoulder). 

Gmar Chasima Tova!

Aseres Y'mei Teshuva = A Honeymoon Period: Does Dating Parallel Our Relationship with G-d During the Aseres Y'mei Teshuva?

Despite my earlier misgiving about this time of year and my capacity to connect with Yiddishkeit and G-d, I've come to realize these past few days of powering through, working extra hard to fight off obstacles, that I'm enjoying this closeness with Hashem. It's a lot of work, and I know I can't keep it up like this year-round, but for now it's working for me.

At this level, this might be a terrible analogy to dating and relationships. Taken at face value, this would mean that we put our best foot forward while dating someone, and then we let things slide after awhile when it gets too hard. In essence that would mean that the best period in your relationship is when you first start dating. Bear with me, this is only a portion of the comparison here.

Of course you must represent your best self when you begin dating someone. At the outset, when you're learning each other, there is no bigger picture to see, and each idiosyncrasy and pink flag gets judged on its own merit. There's a certain respect we show the other person by putting ourselves together and behaving (at least for the first couple of dates). It's similar to what you do for a job interview, or what we do during the Aseres Y'mei Teshuva.

It isn't fake. Borrowing mashalim that you've probably heard multiple times, you love the dirty smelly child after he comes home from a hot day playing in the mud the same as you love that child when he's fresh out of a bath. After the bath though, he's that much more cute and delicious. The kallah gets all made up and dresses to the nines for her wedding day even if a few years later she's wearing shmattas streaked in whatever the baby is eating, still struggling to lose the baby weight from her last pregnancy, no make up and no sheitel now her new face. We're showing what we can be when we put out our best effort.

Tangentially, it's important to be yourself while dating and not misrepresent yourself in the name of putting your best foot forward. It's still gotta be your own foot. For those that find dating intimidating and unnatural because you feel like you can't be yourself for this reason, I'm going to suggest that you loosen up a little. There's a difference between behaving and being stilted, but also, being genuine versus being socially inappropriate.

As a personal example, I was recently sharing an appetizer with a guy on a beginning date. He was using silverware. I said, "I feel like this is finger food." He responded, "It is," but continued using his fork and knife. I used my fingers. (I guess you can't really trust me to behave on dates; I'm just going to be myself.)

As for being genuine, that would refer to saying something like, "I had a really nice time tonight," or "To be honest with you, I was actually pretty nervous coming into this date." It puts it out there and you can feel better about it once s/he knows. Socially inappropriate would be to say to someone you've just met, "You know, I couldn't stop thinking about you since we spoke on the phone." There's something pathological and creepy about that. Keep it to yourself until you have an actual relationship with the person, and then if you must, you can share something like that with him/her.

Back to my point, while dating, and oftentimes a little while into a relationship, things are easy, cordial and passionate, and less work. As things get realer and deeper, it's not as easy, and a lot more work is required. This applies to the honeymoon phase of any situation really -- romantic, spiritual, medical, political, etc.

There are certain times in our lives that we experience quick (artificial) highs, which help us sense what can be ours, but the high is, in reality, just as elusive. It is fleeting and means nothing if it's not followed up by real work. A synthetic sense of exhilaration or euphoria only lasts as long as the agent does. If you want to make this feeling your own, you need to work for it.

This concept exists in many different forms within Torah Judaism. First and foremost, it reflects our relationship with Hashem. During the Aseres Y'mei Teshuva, Motzei Yom Kippur, or during other times of hisorerus, such as situations where we see blatant yad Hashem, we feel extremely close to G-d, but this feeling soon dissipates; we have a hard time maintaining this feeling of closeness. We want the happiness and intimacy of someone in a serious, loving, trusting, relationship, for this is the ultimate joy, but it's elusive. We have difficulty attaining this lasting authentic relationship with G-d. Thus, during the Yamim Noraim or at other times such as these that we feel heightened closeness to Hashem finds us asking ourselves what it's all worth; is it all merely a charade? Is the euphoria we feel during the beginning of a blossoming romantic relationship a sham?

Indeed, what holds us back from procuring this genuine relationship with Hashem? How do we create this authentic relationship with a potential marriage partner? We are able to experience superficial love without investment, but a real relationship requires work. As every relationship in this world is meant so we can understand some aspect of our relationship with G-d, let's speak first about what happens when two people fall head over heels for each other in the beginning of a relationship. Most of the time they believe that this infatuation will last forever. They think about the other person before they go to sleep at night, and s/he is the first thing they think about when they wake up in the morning. Everything in their life becomes about this other person. And, they reckon that this love will endure a lifetime. But it doesn't, and it's not meant to.

Rabbi Jeremy Kagan, in his book The Choice to Be: A Jewish Path to Self and Spirituality, explains that love in its raw form is selfish. It is about viewing the other as an extension of self. For there to be unification one needs to sacrifice part of his individuality. He is transformed from "single person" to "that in a relationship." You cannot chance upon real love, a genuine relationship. You can only find the potential for a real love; the relationship needs to be built. The infatuation, the inspiration, dissipates and the relationship then needs to be rebuilt.

This is not a negative thing; it is how it is meant to be. The original relationship serves the purpose of one becoming familiar with what is possible, and it works as a means to make it easier to reach that madreiga again. Rabbi Benzion Klatzko speaks about this concept. He calls it "Or Rishon" (first light) and "Or Sheini" (second light). He explains that or rishon is blinding, dazzling, very intense, but it doesn't last. Or sheini is not as intense. It's more soothing, more calm, more work to achieve, more incremental, but it has the potential to last a lifetime.

Kabbalas HaTorah was loud, monumentous. There were kolos u'vrakim, and Hashem Himself proclaimed the first dibrah. The people were so overcome, they fainted. But this didn't last! Forty days later Klal Yisroel was dancing around an egel. And then, we received the luchos sh'neiyos in a very quiet unassuming way. These we have until this very day. Another example, people get all inspired learning in Israel, be them baalei teshuva or run-of-the-mill sem girls and yeshiva guys. Very rarely does this fire stay, at least in its full glory. People come back to the States and it all but peters out. They might be doing the same things, davening, learning, doing chesed, but it just doesn't feel the same. Israel was or harishon, dazzling and intense, and later it's or hasheini, less flashy but more real, harder to attain but easier to hold onto.

Another better known example is how a fetus is taught kol hatorah kula while it is inside its mother's womb. Before the infant is born, the malach sent to teach the child taps the baby above the lip, and it forgets everything it was taught. The person then has to toil to relearn all that Torah during his lifetime.

Why doesn't or rishon last? What is the point of learning the whole Torah if it is to be forgotten only to be relearned? Rabbi Klatzko answers that or rishon is a gift, it carves out space within us for or sheini. Without or rishon we cannot attain or sheini. It is true for Torah, and it is true for relationships. When we experience what it is like to be "madly in love," feel extremely close to someone or something, it will keep us going when the going gets tough. We know what we're working for, because he once had it. Or rishon, unlike or sheini, cannot last because it wasn't worked for.

We can get close to Hashem and stay close to Him. We have this ability to follow it down, just as the honeymoon phase of a romantic relationship is not the end-all-and-be-all. We keep going, plugging away if we have to, because the relationship is important to us. Perhaps why we cannot feel the unadulterated happiness of true d'veikus to G-d is mostly because we do not invest enough, we get stuck somewhere, and we lose sight of where the road is and what our goal is. All relationships take work.

Forgiveness Part Three: Forgiving Ourselves

We often hold onto things and blame ourselves for them much longer than necessary. This manifests as us not trusting our own judgement, not trusting others, and thinking that life has irrevocably damaged us. I know that I often lament how my young naiveté was stripped away as I climbed this mountain of shidduchim. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, sure, but all this does take an effect on one. Scar tissue is tougher, but it's also uglier.

I'm not contesting the fact that you have to learn from every experience, because you definitely do. You don't want to make the same mistakes again and again; pink flags and all that, but where do you draw the line? Where can you set down past experiences and start trusting yourself (and then others) again? Is there such a thing as a blank slate?

I believe it's about replacing these bad experiences with good ones, or maybe just adding good experiences to bad ones. This way you can recognize that both possibilities exist. People may not be trustworthy, but they may be. Adding +1 to -1 lands you back at zero.

Psychology calls this "corrective emotional experiences." This type of experience involves a providing a new, more satisfying response to a person's relationship pattern. In therapy, it's about experience rather than explanation. When put in a similar situation, someone (it doesn't have to be a therapist, this works in the real world too) offers a safer response than what previously occurred. This then helps the person to process the beliefs held about said situation more effectively.

I'll give you an example to explain the psychobabble.

If you've been keeping up with my previous posts, you've read about how I dated someone for awhile, us basically planning a life together, almost reaching the finish line in this shidduch race, but not quite, and he walked away abruptly with no explanation. About two or so months later I found myself dating another guy, and after three or four dates I was sort of stuck. We got along great, but I didn't really want to get invested. I'm sure I was scared to let him in, because my past experience taught me what happens when I do that. (As a side note, this was not the first time a serious relationship didn't work out, so it was already becoming a negative pattern for me.)

Because I like to embrace vulnerability, I told him straight up how I was feeling. I gave him some backstory and explained that I couldn't move forward in our relationship (ie. get past superficials), because basically I had this fear of what was going to happen -- me opening myself up again to another close relationship and then him walking away.

I don't know who taught him how to deal with girls' feelings, but to whoever did, did a great job. (Thank you whoever you are!) He said to me (and he was sincere, he's not one of those shiny bogus charismatic types), "I honestly wish that I could take away the hurt, but I can't, even though I wish I could. What I can do is promise you that I'm not going to hurt you like that. . ." And he didn't. Things didn't work out between us, but he didn't hurt me like that.

His statement, and his actions backing up that statement, case in point, a corrective emotional experience. I actually trust people now to follow through on things and not just to book it when...who knows what happened, I still don't.

My point though, I may not have any more clarity with what happened in regards to Powerball Guy, but thanks to this other fellow, I can set down my irrational fear about getting close with someone again. Some bad experiences and some good ones. I just have to allow myself to let go of that baggage. I need to forgive myself for "letting" it happen.

This letting go is similar to that of forgiving others. Figuring out the reason why you're holding onto something, channeling, expressing, and releasing the frustration and anger will help you wipe the slate clean.

Practicing stress management to cope with, reduce, and not allow regular stress to build up helps with this too. Do you let things go, or are you just "stuffing it" only to access it, subconsciously, later on? Forgiving yourself starts with learning from your mistakes and working through why they happened instead of holding onto them and blaming yourself or other people for them.

You can use deep breathing to clear your mind and elicit an actual physiological relaxation response within your body. Challenge negative thoughts and replace them with more positive self-talk. (No one is thinking about you as much as you tell yourself they are.) Recognize that worrying is an exercise in futility; it doesn’t change the outcome, but it sure takes up a lot of head-space.

Forgiving yourself and letting things go is a choice. You can hold onto whatever you'd like forever, but at least just take the time to decipher why you're doing it. Trying to create a healthy relationship while you're still lugging around past relationship baggage (doesn't even have to be romantic/dating relationships) is like someone being toivel with a sheretz b'yado.

Forgiveness Part Two: Granting Forgiveness to Others

As aforementioned, although it seems counterintuitive, holding onto pain and resentment usually serves a purpose for us. In some ways we feel better knowing that we're not forgetting how someone hurt or wronged us. Forgiving feels akin to forgetting, and if we grant someone forgiveness, maybe what transpired becomes okay and it's as if it never happened.

Guess what, the other/s involved  probably are not thinking about what occurred anymore! Because I was hurt, regardless of whether or not I remember and nurse this pain, it doesn't make the person/s who wronged me feel any better or worse. It only hurts me more.

The process of forgiving and letting things go starts by getting rid of frustrations with yourself and things that happened to you. Talking things out can be very cathartic and healing. Processing why you’re holding onto something and are unable to move past it can help you gain the insight you need to then shelve it and not allow it to define you anymore. Once you’ve figured out why something stung so much, you can begin the journey towards no longer allowing it to dictate who you are and affect how you perceive every relationship following that one.

Channeling your irritation and/or pain into a positive productive action is also helpful in getting rid of a frustration. Whether you decide to help others, or you just take care of something personal for yourself that you’ve been putting off for awhile, it’s a good way to not allow a frustrating situation hold you back, rather utilizing it to propel you forward. By doing this you’re focusing your frustration on something that you can control rather than allowing it to control you.

Expressing frustration via whatever creative outlet you have available to you is helpful too. Whether you journal, paint/draw, write music, blog, etc., this is a visual manifestation of your feelings, a physical reminder that you’ve officially off-loaded the frustration and it no longer needs to live rent free in your head.

Not only releasing frustration, but letting go of anger with yourself and others is another step in whittling away unresolved hurt. I'll tackle the former at greater length in Part Three, but let's discuss the latter. Take the time to understand where the anger is coming from. Are you really angry, or are you just sad? You can do this with the help of a journal (and/or the like), or a friend/mentor/therapist. It's important to take responsibility for your part of the situation, being honest about what role your actions played. If necessary and possible, attempt to have a non confrontational conversation with the offender about your feelings, or have a third party get involved. Try to understand the other person’s perspective; we all make mistakes and appreciate others’ understanding, compassion, and forgiveness. Recognize that holding onto anger hurts you more than it hurts the person you are upset at. Make a conscious choice to let things go because you are seeking menuchas hanefesh.

Once you are able to let go of anger, anxiety, and stress, you open yourself up to receive more positive things in the future. In essence, you're wiping the grime off the lens through which you view the world and all future possibilities. Forgiving someone has more benefits for you than it does for the person you are forgiving.

Forgiveness Part One: Seeking Forgiveness From Others

In another attempt to band-aid our bullet wound (the proverbial "Shidduch Crisis"), great people have spoken at some length regarding singles seeking mechila from anyone and everyone they've ever wronged. There have been frightening stories about people who have hurt others, often unintentionally, and until they face said people and pursue absolution, they remain single, childless, or in need of some yeshua.

Talking this over with some friends, we tried to understand how this works. Granted, if there is someone you've obviously aggrieved, of course, it's critical to apologize and seek his forgiveness. In situations like a broken engagement where there are a lot of variables involved, a shtar mechila is usually written up and signed by both parties. In much lesser situations, however, how do we know what is called for? Do I even know/remember everyone who may have been hurt by something I've said or done at some point in my entire life?

A friend of mine who has a particularly honest and forthright communication style asked, "So, does that mean I should call up every single person I've ever talked to and ask them for mechila, because maybe they're holding onto something I said at some point some time somewhere?"

A different friend who had a particularly thorny break-up with a guy, who even two years later, now married, doesn't seem to have gotten over it, asked her rabbi, citing this idea, whether she should follow down his forgiveness, perhaps have someone speak with him about what happened. Her rabbi told her,"Lots of people make themselves busy with this phenomenon."

All sarcasm aside, it isn't easy to humble ourselves to admit that we've done something wrong, hurt someone. We should live our lives trying not to hurt others' feelings, being aware of what we're doing and how other people receive these actions. When we do do something that hurts someone, even if we don't feel like it was wrong per se, it's a positive practice to sincerely seek someone's forgiveness. As it's not always appropriate to reach out personally, especially if it's a shidduch situation, you can utilize a third party to ask on your behalf. I always like to make it a practice to apologize when a relationship ends, no matter how clear cut it seems. You'd be surprised what people are holding onto.

I think it's also important to mention that you don't have to make yourself crazy about this. I'm obviously not qualified to pasken, so ask your own LOR, but there's enough desperation as is. Because you may have wronged someone in the past and you don't remember is probably not the reason why you're not married yet.

Forgiveness In Three Parts: An Introduction

A new year, a new beginning, a season full of possibilities and excitement. A time of letting go of the old and letting in the new. An occasion to stop holding onto things that no longer serve us, to judge everything and everyone on its own merit.

As the seasons change, the air gets crisper, and the trees shed their baggage, we too have a chance to enter into the new year with a slimmer, lighter pack on our metaphorical back. What happened to us in the past should have no bearing on what occurs in the future. We open ourselves up to receiving more positives if we create a vessel that is able and ready, available, to receive good.

As we approach the Day of Atonement, we seek pardon from G-d for all that we've committed this past year. We ask to be judged on the merit of what we've done right and all the good we will do in the future. We request a clean slate, a do-over of sorts.

Dating is a great opportunity to hurt people (unintentionally of course) and to get hurt. Relationships in general are situations that are ripe with circumstances in which people can/will experience emotional pain.

As I was "breaking up" with a guy once upon a time, he pointed out that "M'galgalin zechus al yeday zakai, v'chov al yeday chayav." The concept basically means that good things come about through good people, and the same is true for the opposite. I guess it was my mistake that as a means to soften the blow, and in hopes that he would take this break-up (after all of five dates) less personally, I told him, "Unfortunately, I'm pretty good at break-ups by now." He was expressing to me that I probably should take a look at myself if I'm constantly put in the position to hurt people.

At this point I've been on both the doling and receiving end too many time to count, so I'm not quite sure if his sentiment means anything. And, shidduchim isn't a chesed. You cannot keep dating someone just because you don't want to hurt his/her feelings, as that ends up hurting more...but I digress.

In this unique stage of our lives, we're placed in this corner all too often. It's part and parcel of the experience. Hopefully we can get through it without taking things too much to heart and move on from there. Sometimes we're not so lucky. Sometimes something that happens to us is too hard to let go just like that. Sometimes something we do to someone else is too hard for him/her to let go. Sometimes something that transpires is too hard for us to forgive ourselves for.

We hold onto pain and resentment in general because this fixation gives us an illusion of control. Perhaps we nurse the pain of a break-up because that’s the only thing we have left of the relationship, or maybe we stay angry at someone for something he did because that’s the only means of having a semblance of control in the situation, or we worry about an unknown in the future as an attempt to have some say over how it plays out.

The power and sense of identity that we get from holding onto things is born out of feeling like you’re right and someone or something else is wrong. If we let something go, it means that we'll forget, and it will be like it never happened; we're in essence making it okay. Playing the victim role also feels nice because you get others’ attention, love, and support, and maybe you’re even enjoying the pity party that’s happening inside your own head. Finally, staying in an uncomfortable feeling is uncomfortable, but it’s familiar and safe, allowing you to avoid venturing into unknown territory. While all those are nice temporarily, they hold you back from reaching your ideal goal.

I would like to explore (in my next few posts), one by one, the importance of, as well as the how-to's, involved with 1) Seeking forgiveness from others 2) Granting forgiveness to others 3) Forgiving ourselves.

Rosh Hashana: Connecting Through Ahava

I’ve heard the sentiment that people may think that there are two different G-ds, that Yiddishkeit is two different religions. I’m not speaking of factions of Judaism; rather, what I speak of is the two very different atmospheres in shul on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur versus that on Simchas Torah and Purim. Extremely different approaches to G-d and life, and yet, it’s the same religion, and it’s the same G-d.

How are we supposed to relate to Hashem? Is it through this fear of eternal damnation, or this tremendous love that He has for us? Are these two different approaches perhaps meant for different times in history? Are we too weak at this point in time to be able to withstand this yirah-style avoda? Nowadays, most people do not deign to use punishment and instead utilize positive reinforcement, because children, and people in general, respond to that approach more positively. Someone uses physical punishment, and it’s termed abuse. The “victim” then rebels against everything that person stands for.

Perhaps I make it sound uncalled for and even ridiculous, but it’s a real phenomenon. We just aren’t the same people who withstood scoldings and beatings and only came away with renewed vigor to do the right thing. I could go into the psychology of it, but that’s a discussion beyond the scope of this post. The question here that I’m trying to understand is that of is connecting to Hashem through ahava a stira with connecting to Him through yirah? Can they go hand in hand? Is our generation capable of really feeling true yirah and using this to grow spiritually and connect with HK"BH?

Fiery speeches about gehenom have not been broadly used to motivate us to do what’s right. Instead, most popular contemporary baalei mussar have appealed to us through the venue of Hashem’s love for us. We definitely need to know that there is right and wrong, and that there are consequences for our actions. Hashem loves us unconditionally, but He has expectations of us. He knows where we stand in life, and He gives us challenges only for our benefit. However, He wants us to pass these tests. He cares about us failing to do the right thing.

On Rosh Hashanah we daven for many things. We ask for life, for happiness, for Hashem to shower us with His goodness. If He loves us so much wouldn’t He just give to us pro bono? The answer is yes and no. Hashem gives much of what we have for free. Nothing we can do in this world can make us deserve everything that Hashem has blessed us with. But, the answer is also no. Hashem wants us to daven, to connect to Him, to do His mitzvos. It is not for Hashem’s benefit, however. It is for ours. Hashem doesn’t need to do this accounting of us every year. He is omniscient; He doesn’t have to pass us under a staff like a flock a sheep to be aware of what we’ve done this year. Instead, this audit, so to speak, is for our benefit, to make sure that we stay on track. Aside from gaining eternal reward, which is ultimately the purpose of this transient existence, we have a much better Olam Hazeh if we follow the Torah.

This all being said, I think we can conclude that yiraas shamyim and ahavas Hashem are closely intertwined. The yirah is an awareness of s'char v'onesh and a sense of right and wrong; the ahava can be an outlook and a means to achieve the awareness. Many baalei mussar tell us that fear comes first and the love afterward, because fear of punishment is a greater motivator. However, nowadays, I think fear elicits rebellion or confusion. Yes, yira is important, but perhaps ahava can accomplish the same thing.

If we aren’t trembling thinking about the Yom HaDin, can I venture that that’s okay? We may not be on that level, but hopefully we will reach an awareness that works for us. We have to keep in mind that this is the same G-d that we rejoice with on Sukkos and Simchas Torah. This is the same religion in which we party on Purim (Yom Kippur is “Yom K’Purim,” a day like Purim; the spirituality is so great on Purim). Two different approaches, all leading us to the same means. If you can’t connect through fear, connect through love.

To me, because this year was so hard for me (I admit, it mostly had to do with dating; I guess that's what makes this post relevant.), and I thought I davened well last Yamim Noraim, it's hard for me to do it all over again. If it's really true that everything that is going to happen during the year is being decided on Rosh Hashana, how do I go into this optimistically when I feel like it's the same thing year after year? Finding that love is hard when I feel like I'm asking for something that if Hashem really loved me I wouldn't still need to be asking for at this point, and I know I've backed away a bit from the yirah...

The avoda for Rosh Hashana is being mamlich Hashem melech, pronouncing Him king. He is our Father, our King. He wants what is best for us, and He wants a connection to us. That's what I know I need to focus on.

Ksiva V'chasima Tova!