Joy = Connection Repost

Relationships are work, but connection is joy.

The Yaamim Noraim and Zman Simchaseinu teach us this.

Read about it more here.

Chag sameach!

Your Path to the King's Treasury

You've all heard the mashal, I'm sure, about the guy who gets invited by the king –– an entire day to take whatever he can in 24 hours from the king's treasury. This week Mrs. Shifra Rabenstein, in a shuir about the Aseres Y'mei Teshuva, put her own spin on it. I'll get to her changes in a second. I want to add some of my own too.

Let me remind you of the story first.

The king wants to make the whole day as pleasant as he can for the man, and he sets up the path to the treasury, lining it with every pleasure possible. Every few feet there is some other materialistic thing that catches the guy's attention. A five star restaurant with a maitre d who treats him royally, serving him a seven course meal accompanied by various expensive bottles of wine. A comfortable bed bedecked in the softest linens to sleep off his food and drink. A concert. A sushi bar. A show. A carving station. Whatever, you name it.

As the parable goes, the guy gets so distracted that either he completely misses his window and gets nothing from the treasury that he can take away with him, or he wakes up in the last few seconds and grabs a handful of coins, crying at his missed opportunity.

Mrs. Rabenstein added her own spin. "What if," she said, "What if the guy's friend comes with him and shakes him by the shoulder as he sees him getting distracted.

"Yankel, it's 1pm. You have to get a move on." "What? Oh, okay...just five more minutes, this bed is so comfortable..." "Yankel, it's 3pm! Your time is fading." "Huh? Right, okay...California roll please!"

"What if," Mrs. Rabenstein said, "What if, he not only reminds him, but he shakes him by the shoulders..."

"YANKEL! IT'S FIVE O'CLOCK! YOU ONLY HAVE THREE HOURS LEFT!"

"What if," said Mrs. Rabenstein, "What if we realize that Hashem is shaking us? Reminding us that we only have three hours left? What if Hashem is literally shaking the ground under us? How many hurricanes and earthquakes have there been in the past couple months? How much shaking do we need?!"

I guess my addition to the story would take on something that I heard from the rav of our shul on Rosh Hashana. He was talking about living al kiddush Hashem and how that is harder than dying al kiddush Hashem, how every moment, every choice that we make, is just that. He talked about how perhaps our living al kiddush Hashem is accepting our life circumstances, no matter how uncomfortable they might seem, and realizing that that is not only emunah, but that is living al kiddush Hashem.

What if our path to the king's treasure house isn't strewn with sushi bars and ice cream? What if our path has roadblocks and speed humps? Will we decide to take a different way that potentially leads us nowhere near our destination, just because it feels like we'll never get there if we stay on the path that we're on? Are we following a GPS that has the wrong address plugged in? Are we looking for the route that doesn't have traffic but may take us through all the bad neighborhoods and we won't necessarily ever make it there ever?

Yom Kippur has purifying properties in it of itself. We just need to go through it to get cleansed. Elul, the aseres y'mei teshuva, culminates in Yom Kippur. Yom Kippur climaxes at Neila. Neila peaks with Hashem Hu HaElokim. Hashem Hu HaElokim, and we have a personal relationship with him...He wants to give us from His treasure house. The question of the first Rosh Hashana ever was "Ayeka?!" That question reverberates still today...

Gmar Chasima Tova!

Ani L'Dodi V'Dodi Li: Rosh Hashana, Relationships, Love

Rosh Hashana. New beginnings, shofar, being mamlich Hashem melech, teshuva, reflecting on the past year... There is so much that comes to mind when I think about the Yom HaDin. For this post, I want to explore a mindset that will hopefully be helpful for this yuntif.

Last Rosh Hashana I wrote about how fiery speeches about gehenom have not been broadly used to motivate us in recent times. Instead, most popular contemporary baalei mussar have appealed to us through the venue of Hashem’s love for us, and 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.

I think especially when you feel like you're faced with the same, or similar, challenges over and over, and it's so much easier to disengage, this mindset is so helpful. Going into Rosh Hashana knowing that everything that will happen in the coming year is being decided, thinking that you davened well last year, but are still feeling very stuck, it's a challenge. Focusing on a love and relationship with G-d changes that perspective though. 

I want to expound on that here.

I've found that there are two general schools of thought when it comes to the Yamim Noraim and teshuva. 

One approach is the fire and brimstone, "Shimu na HaMorim!" "Ma L'cha Nirdam?!" We're told that we're asleep, taking our life that G-d graciously gave us and throwing it away. We're labeled hypocritical for rationalizing and excusing our misdeeds as positive actions. Basically, what it boils down to is that we're on a one-way trip to gehenom. We're disconnected from our neshama, and we're going nowhere fast. This style sometimes works to shock us out of complacency. We get scared; we feel regret, and this generates positive change. Sometimes. Yet, many times it backfires. Either it causes us to give up because it seems like we're so far gone, or it breeds excuses. We think to ourselves that we're not that bad; we find something good we're doing in life to get us off the hook.

Approach two is that of a benevolent G-d waiting for His child to bring home a test even with just a "C" circled in red on top. I've heard Rabbi Baruch Leff speak about this idea, as he titled it, "We're Not as Bad as We Think We Are." Compared to generations of the past, he says, we are exposed to that much more shmutz. In fact, during a person's 15 minute drive to work or school, or perhaps even during a mere walk down the street, we are exposed to more than what our ancestors were exposed to in their entire life in the shtetl. Rabbi Leff suggests that because of our situation Hashem takes what He can get, so to speak, and does not judge our mitzvos as inferior. Whatever it is that we're up against gets weighed in the equation. It isn't so much what we are or aren't doing right, but what sort of relationship do you have with Hashem?

So, here's the question: which approach works "better"? Which is more real? Is it simply a matter of preference? How can scaring people by saying that they're doomed before they start be a catalyst for change? But then, how can telling people that they're just fine how they are motivate them either?

Does the difference here lie in teshuva m'yirah vs. teshuva m'ahava? We're so scared of gehenom that we change our ways, rather than realizing that Hashem loves every mitzvah we do and then mirror that love in our actions. This generation, I think, is more understanding of love. Any harsh punishment is termed "abuse" and has the very real potential to send someone off the derech. The Torah believes in punishment; what do we do with a ben soreh u'moreh? A mechalel Shabbos gets skeilah. Yet, we are a product of our society, and we find it hard to tolerate anything but positive reinforcement. Perhaps it is for this reason that we like the ahava model better. But, do we understand it for real? Are we really on that level? Ahavas Hashem is really a step above fearing G-d.

R' Itzik Isaac Sher, the author of Leket Sichos Mussar, tells us that the ikar avodas Elul is to realize "Ani L'Dodi, V'Dodi Li," "I am to My beloved as My beloved is to Me." We're supposed to spend Elul realizing that Hashem loves us no matter what. Hashem knows where we are spiritually. He sets up test after test for us, because He believes in us; He thinks very highly of us. It's easy for us to get stuck listening to the voice of the Yetzer Hara telling us all sorts of things: "You're so far gone." "It's the same thing year after year, so why bother this year?" "I just don't want to change; what's the point when it won't stick?" "I'm comfortable where I am." "This is who I am. Those things are for yeshivish people." "I'm not working on all that right now. It's not important or a priority."

Ahavas Hashem is not about letting us off the hook! It's about your relationship with G-d. Relationships are a lot of work! Shlomo Hamelech said, "Cholas ahava ani," Rabbi Zecharia Wallerstein translates, "I am sick in love with Hashem!" How many of us can really say that? Does it hurt us that Hashem is missing from our lives? Do we feel sick with longing to be close to Hashem, have a committed relationship with Him and no other? If this was our level of ahavas Hashem how could we not do as He asks? Won't we do anything for someone we love?

Actually, this is one of the main themes of Rosh Hashana. Rabbi Wallerstein questions why we blow shofar on Rosh Hashana if the point is to commemorate akeidas Yitzchok. Why are we reminding Hashem of the ayeil that Avraham brought as a korban rather than sacrificing Yitzchok? Shouldn't it be anything but that; the ram is the recognition that Avraham didn't actually sacrifice Yitzchok!

Briefly, the answer is that we can say that akeidas Yitzchok was done out of fear of G-d. The Satan tried to stop Avraham from bringing Yitzchok, but at the point when it became apparent that Avraham was willing and ready to sacrifice his son, the pasuk says, "Atah yadati ki yarei elokim atah." But Avraham was not going to stop at that! He could have very well taken his son and gone home. Hashem told him what to do, he did it, Hashem then told him to stop. He was yotzei! But no! "Hashem! You told me to bring a korban; I'm not going to go home until I've brought you a korban! " This was Avraham's undying love of Hashem. The Satan could not bear to see this, so while the ayeil was running toward Avraham, the Satan wrapped it in thorns and vines, making it a teircha for Avraham to reach. Yiras Elokim the Satan can handle, but ahavas Hashem is that much greater.

We do teshuva out of fear, our aveiros get erased, but when we do teshuva out of ahava, they become mitzvos! Not only can they not testify against us in shamyim, they become advocates for us! And this is the power of akeidas Yitzchok. So, yes, it makes sense that we blow shofar, the horn of a ram. The ayeil commemorates the ahavas Hashem that Avraham portrayed. It is even stronger than the actual willingness to sacrifice Yitchok, because this sacrifice was out of ahava.

It is for this reason that blowing shofar causes Hashem to k'vyachol to get up from his keisay din and switch to his keisay rachamim. If we love Hashem, He will give us everything we need. If we really need something, we'll get it, because G-d gives each and everyone one of us everything we need to flourish in this world. 

Perhaps this Rosh Hashana davening's focus can be to foster your relationship with HK"BH by recognizing Who is Melech (king) and how privileged you are to have a special relationship with Him.

Ksiva V'chasima Tova and Shana Tova U'Mesuka!

A New Year and Where Am I?

I think I'm in denial. I have no idea how it can be Rosh Hashana again. What happened this year?? What happened to everything I davened for last Rosh Hashana? And maybe I'm being dramatic. B"H I have health, a good job, family, and so much more. But, thinking back on this year, it's been one of the hardest thus far. Not only has it had an intense hamster-wheel-Groundhog-Day feel, there have been steep ups and downs.

I was reflecting on how much my life has changed since last Rosh Hashana and the one before that and the year before that, etc. I went back and read some things I'd written. Honestly, if this is how I felt four years ago, this year it's just compounded. Last year's reflections on the Yom HaDin had a similar flavor.

(So many back-links, I know, but here's more on the Yaamim Noraim if you so desire.)

What set this year apart from all the previous ones as they blur together? Perhaps it's in all the people I met, all the lives I've touched, all the people who changed me. Maybe it's in how I've grown, what I've learned, what I let go, what I've recognized, what I've forgotten. And when I thought things were hard during previous struggles, I guess it's a good thing I didn't know that things could get harder.

I was recently going through old stuff and I found old cards that people had written me. Some were birthday or thank you cards from old friends I haven't talked to in years, some from grandparents that are no longer alive. Others were from random people whose cards I kept because they were particularly heartfelt. A trip down memory lane. It should have been pleasant, but it hurt. I think it was painful because I feel so stuck in my current stage of life.

I found a bunch of wedding invitations from close friends' weddings that I kept for who knows what reasons. I found a list of people I wrote that I wanted to invite to my wedding. I guess that was a young idealistic version of me who was doing some planning. Again, painful.

Life is dynamic, it doesn't stop for the hurt or weary. A whole year went by. I'm not the same person. Far from it. Can I say that I'm a better version of me? What did I gain this year? What did I lose? What do I want to daven for this Rosh Hashana? I don't want to feel like I'm stuck in this mindless loop just asking G-d to give me clarity, happiness, and for it to finally be the year in which I can celebrate my marriage to the person of my dreams. There's so much more to ask for, so much more to life. Perhaps this is tunnel vision, but I really feel like it colors all. No, I don't think marriage fixes everything, because I know it doesn't, but it does speak to this big gaping wound.

Perhaps I need to stop thinking about the nitty gritty and focus on what's important, the relationship. It's really all boils down to my relationship with Hashem. We don't ask for personal bakashos on Rosh Hashana, we focus on the avoda of being Mamlich Him Melech. If Hashem is my King, if He is truly my Father and my King then I have nothing to worry about (as long as I opt in*).

*A few years ago Mrs. Chanie Juravel, in a shuir about the Yaamim Noraim, told over how the Slonimer Rebbe speaks out how the being judged for maves or chaim on Rosh Hashanah is not something to be afraid of. We make the choice! Do you want life, or do you prefer out? After all, a rasha even in his lifetime is considered a meis.

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!

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!

Yom HaDin and Disengagement

It's that time of year again. Rosh Hashana is imminent, and we're right up against Yom Kippur. What kind of year did you have? What kind of year do you want? It's all decided right there and right then, as you struggle to stay focused on the words that you're saying and the words that you're trying to mean.

I was talking to a bunch of singles recently, and the overwhelming sentiment I was hearing over and over was how we all just feel so stuck. Each Rosh Hashana we daven, we think we do a good job storming the heavens letting G-d know that we really want to be connected to Him, that we really feel like we need to get married, and yet, we're still in the same place year after year, unattached and uninspired.

We've all but backed away a little bit. There is only so many times that you can ask the same thing with the same kind of intensity and not feel dejected when it doesn't bear fruit. We withdraw and numb ourselves from pain. When we feel like we don't belong, we distance ourselves. Let's be real, is there a place for singles in the frum community? Yiddishkeit is so much about family life (and rightfully so), so without a family, it's harder to feel motivated to stay part of all this.

There are so many levels here, but let's first talk about how when someone lets his challenge define him, he is likely to feel high levels of false guilt and shame, and he is more likely to disengage, cease caring, and stop contributing to society. 

In her book Daring Greatly, writer researcher Dr. Brene Brown explains that anxiety and fear take over when there is a high level of shame (feeling like you can't be who you're "supposed" to be), and people disengage and distance themselves from their community to protect themselves. This happens because the individual feels spurned and has little respect for the perceived perpetuators and system. Shame can drive people away from societal values, because these values hold little for them if they feel the community and system upholding them rejects them.

Another facet of this disengagement is how the further and further we get away from a structured learning environment, we let go of some values. We're no longer being spoon-fed, and it's up to us to continue to learn and grow, deciding who and what we want to be. It's a "Natural Evolution of Decay," as someone I once dated put it. 

This brings up the question of how fake must we be if as soon as we step outside the hallowed halls of our yeshivos and Bais Yaakovs do we fall prey to the corruption in the outside world? Honestly, I think what happens outside of structured learning says a lot more about who we are as people. The guy who's gone to college and is working every day yet still holds onto minyan, learning, etc, has done so much more for himself than the one warming the bench in the B"M and doing the same. You may wear a coat if you're in the Arctic, but you're not necessarily a coat-wearer unless you wear the coat at home too.

Many of us walk the fence hoping that our two worlds don't collide. Most of us are pretty successful at it too. The problem is when the secular environment becomes the place in which you feel more productive, as we gravitate towards things that make us feel good about ourselves. This is another reason why we retreat from Yiddishkeit values we may have once held non-negotiable. Said community brings pain, the other world is more comfortable.

It's going to be another year, and we have Rosh Hashana as a means to help us stay on track. Life isn't about comfort. What makes sense for you? Who do you want to be? Where is your train going this year? Hashem isn't a vindictive G-d; He really wants what is best for us. Sometimes, apparently, it's not what we think is easy. It's a new year, a new chance. Can you realign your priorities and figure out what's real and what's just a coping mechanism?

On My Quest For Connection

You know what they say, it’s a two-way relationship; you feel disconnected, who moved?

I was feeling pretty disconnected before Rosh Hashana, disconnected and very discouraged. During Rosh Hashana, the aseres y'mei teshuva, and Yom Kippur, I managed to get a handle on why. I simply wasn't letting G-d into my life enough. Yes, I davened twice every day, but how much of it did I really think about what I was saying? My life became more about staying afloat at work and such. It was more about getting through the day-to-day. It's a little embarrassing to admit that I just didn't care enough about my relationship with Hashem to pursue it as I should have. I was frustrated that He wasn't giving me what I want/ed and think I need, so I think I subconsciously decided to stop trying to make the effort to do what He wanted.

Over and over we hear about how the Yamei HaDin are not for Hashem's sake, but for ours. But really, am I not happier to just do what I want and serve Hashem how I want without having to constantly having to be careful not to do something that I'll have to klop "al cheit" for on Yom Kippur? So it sounds cute, Hashem cares about you so He's taking stock, inspecting what you've done this year...

I didn't always think it was the best explanation. I thought it sounded nice, but it didn't resonate with me. Until it did. This year I really feel like it's true. I was pretty lost. I mean, I wasn't doing anything really bad; I think I just lost focus. Things that should have mattered, didn't. If I wasn't forced to stop and take a hard look at myself, I don't think I would have.

This Aseres Y'mei Teshuva forced me to do just that. And, I figured out how to begin having the relationship that I once had, that I want. It's hard work; I'll admit. Much of it is also not letting the big black things get in the way. It's easy to let those things that are just too hard to not do (at this point) get in the way of all the things you can do with a little effort. It's about working offense and defense. I'm working on my davening, began to learn a really good sefer about connecting to G-d, and I'm also reclaiming control from my yetzer hara -- one lo saseh at a time.

I realized that I can't just do whatever I want and complain that I don't feel like Judaism speaks to me. The more one puts in, the more s/he gets out. Yes, I still feel like having my own family would help part of that issue...as I still maintain that Yiddishkeit is largely about family life. However, there is so much I can do individually -- just me and HK"BH.

At the end of Yom Kippur yesterday at "Hashem Hu Ha Elokim," when with each articulation the Shechinah goes further up to shamyim and leaves our midst, I cried because I didn't want Hashem to leave. It was the same feeling I had the last time I left Israel, my last trip to the kosel. I wept because I didn't want to leave that feeling of closeness I had to Hashem. I begged G-d to stay with me as I went back to Chutz LaEretz, and in this case, as the shaarei shamyim were closing and He was ascending back to Heaven.

But, after Yom Kippur comes Sukkos: the holiday of joy. Hashem stays with us for another week! If only I could bask in His Presence the whole time and stay on that level to feel so connected. There are just so many distractions. I wish I worked at a Jewish place, then I wouldn't have work and my jumbled schedule as a constant worry. I wish other things were different and didn't get in the way of the simcha of the chag. I wish I was able to really focus on purely spiritual things (and only the yom tov-dik physical ones). It's just so hard! It's difficult to find the balance between that world and this one. Hmmm, relationships take work...

Uphill Battling

Why is my ratzon stronger than Hashem's ratzon to me? I'm only human, I know, but then it's only a human whim that I'm fighting. I want to not give into this desire, at least during the aseres y'mei teshuva, but I'm finding that it's almost too difficult for me. I held out for a day and a half, and now I feel like I must give in. I don't even feel like my yetzer hara is playing fair. I don't have a fighting chance.

Perhaps breaking my will is much like exercising. In the beginning, a new workout strains one's muscles, and he has every aching cell yelling for a truce. However, as he continues to workout, the charley horse lessens and then disappears; the workout soon becomes almost easy. He begins to enjoy it. The key, though, is to start out slow and gradually build.

I feel as if my yetzer hara is telling me that I need to take baby steps here just so that it can make me slip up. Don't I have the self-control to just not give in at all?

Not Ready to Face The Judge

I’m just really not ready for Rosh Hashana this year. I mean, when are we really ever ready? But this year, I’m dreading it. I think it’s because this year I’ve just let so much slip. It’s been really hard. I let go of some things that were important to me. The worst part is that when I think about it, they’re just no longer important. I have no inkling in changing any of it back right now. I don’t know if I just don’t have the oomph to put in the work, or what. I’ve let myself become numb. I sort of allowed myself to be convinced that I’m okay with the way I am. My stringency in Halacha has slackened. My boundaries in terms of the media I read, watch, and listen to have slipped. I don’t feel like I’m doing anything wrong, per se, I’m just not as focused, close to G-d as I was before.

My way of dealing with life’s challenges has just been to back away a little and numb myself to the pain. I know that part of this is the feeling of not belonging. Yiddishkeit is so much about family life. Without my own family, but with a burning desire to find my husband and start my own family, it’s just been…difficult. Despite vaguely realizing that what I do now becomes who I am and who I will be when I eventually have the responsibility of looking out for a husband’s and family’s ruchniyus, I just can’t bring myself to make those changes or sacrifices. I’ve been exposed to and exposed myself to things that have made it hard for me to keep my focus. There’s so much more to life than what I knew when I was able to keep my priorities straight. Now I just feel like I’m surviving rather than thriving.

I’ve accomplished a lot academically, I know, but now my life has become this grind of slogging through each day at a job where I hate my boss and my supervisor and wish I was somewhere else. It's a lot easier when you're looking toward a goal; once the milestone's been attained, it's harder to feel like you're going somewhere. It’s hard to focus on personal growth when you’re just trying to survive one day at a time. I’ve worked on myself as a person, so maybe I’m being too harsh on myself, but really, I feel like my Yiddishkeit has slipped.

It’s hard to face Hashem and go through the motions of being mamlech Him as melech, when despite knowing deep down that He has plan for me, I’m just finding it hard to reconcile what my life has become. I’m talking about the parts that I have no control over. How many times have I davened for Hashem to give me what I need so I can serve Him? How many times have I felt that He just doesn’t hear me? I think I’ve taken to not caring anymore. I’m still passionate about my values; I still care about mitzvos and halacha and stuff, but there’s this little part of me that just thinks that maybe it doesn’t all matter as much as I always thought it did. It scares me to say it, because I think that somewhere in the recesses of my heart/mind I know that it’s not true and it’s this warped coping mechanism I’ve developed. This is what the pain has done to me.

And now I’m facing Rosh Hashana. There’s so much going on, it’s partially still the summer, my work schedule is a mess, and I’m having a hard time concentrating on the fact that it’s going to be Rosh Hashana. Unprepared doesn’t even begin to describe it. No matter how much time or mental energy I had, I wouldn’t be able to prepare. It’s because, like I said, I just don’t care anymore. I’m sure I’ll go to shul on Yom Tov and daven fervently, but then I’ll be bored the rest of the day and end up sleeping or reading to while away the time.

I really just don’t know what to do with what my life has become. Is there some way to fix it? I know what I’m lacking, but I’m pretty powerless to claim it. It’s all in the hands of G-d, who for some reason unbeknownst to me doesn’t think I need it as much as I do. Every tefilla now is the same. How come I’m just not worthy? What am I missing? What does Hashem want from me? What am I supposed to do this Rosh Hashana when I feel like it’s all become a show? When have I started feeling so disconnected?

I know Hashem loves me, as I Him, but can’t begin to understand the world He put me into, the challenges He has given me. Does the fact that I’m still me somewhat mean that I’ve triumphed, or should I have done things differently? Life is so confusing. I think I’ve done the best I can with what I’ve been given, but there’s this nagging voice in my head that tells me that I’m being too soft on myself, negligent. I know I’m stronger in some ways, but in others, I’ve really just thrown in the towel. What is this voice? Is it the yetzer hara trying to make me feel dejected and down on myself? Or perhaps it’s my conscience telling me I need to shape up? Do I even care enough anymore?

I once heard from a reputable source that if you listen attentively enough, if you let yourself be honest with yourself, then you will know if something is you or yetzer hara. I honestly don’t know here. It seems like it can be both. Perhaps it’s the yetzer hara saying it’s the yetzer hara so I won’t make any changes. I don’t know, it’s my coping mechanisms that are probably the worst, make me feel numb to it all. But then if I give those up, how will I cope? Arggh, how is that I can help countless others to get over whatever it is that’s bothering them and to reach their potential, but I can’t help myself?