There is an old Jewish tale told about Rabbi Zusya who believed that when he died and appeared before his God, he would not be asked why he was not like Abraham or Moses. He would be asked why he was not Zusya. His concern was that he would not have an answer.
When our lives are ending and we attempt to account how we spent our time on earth, we will not have to ask ourselves why we were not like any other great leader, artist, musician or poet. We should ask were we ourselves? In order to answer this we need to know who we are— a basic question we confront on the start of our spiritual journeys. When asked “who are you” most of us answer with our names and will them go on to list various aspects about ourselves in terms of family relationships, gender, work, religious affiliation, nationality, vocation and interests. For example, I could answer that I am a woman/wife/mother/American /Jew/artist/ writer. How would you answer the question?
As we try to deepen the search, we will perhaps reach a point where we can acknowledge that we are each identical sparks of Divinity robed in totally unique possibilities and potentials. It is awesome to consider that never before and never again will there be an exact replica of ourselves on earth. We each have a totally novel opportunity to affect this world because of who and what we are.
As a New Year 5769 begins, we can take the opportunity for personal assessment. Are we making the most of the gifts that we were given to be used in this life-time? How can we make sure that we are living up the highest potential within us? We can start by asking how much time we invest in those things about which we feel passionate and how much simple joy do we experience each day? The two, I believe go together. How, after death, do we want to be remembered?
We all live very busy lives by choice or by necessity. As women it is so easy to overlook the needs we have to care for ourselves. What better gift can we give ourselves at the start of of a new year than the commitment to take some time each day or week to devote to things that make us happy. Perhaps spending a ten-minute period in daily meditation, or making sure to look at (and actually see and enjoy) the sunset each day. Perhaps we are fulfilled by spending a while each week in nature, reading for pleasure, engaged in a creative hobby or listening to music that relaxes and refreshes. As we list those things that really bring us pleasure, perhaps we are close to knowing who we are and what we want to do with our time.
We all have much to do and many people who need our time and attention. On any airplane voyage we are told in case of emergency, to put on our own oxygen masks first before we try to assist anyone else. Great advice for our everyday lives too. As we begin to get in touch with who we really are, we can start to think about whether we are expressing all that we might and if not, where we can start to make some small changes that will allow us to answer the question “who am I” with the answer: “At least some of the time, I am a fulfilled and content spiritual being on this human journey as I fulfill my roles to the best of my ability”.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
The defining memory of our lives
In Judaism, no-one ever dies as long as someone remembers them. For this reason, on the anniversary of a loved one’s death, the Kaddish, a prayer of remembrance, is said by those who hold dear the memories of the deceased. And what is it we really remember?
Ultimately it is not the height, weight, complexion or the color of eyes or hair that remain with us after the death of a loved one. It is something of the spirit of the person that lingers— often the values that motivated their behavior, comical or wistful, that we recall.
Memory can be kind. When we think of parents long gone, parents who may have suffered from lingering illnesses at the end of their lives, many of us find that those painful memories are not the ones that bubble to consciousness when we remember them. Our memory bank opens for us to other times and seasons. Images resurface of our loved ones still healthy and vigorous.
A recent Japanese film entitled After Life presents a waiting room where those recently deceased, spend a short time before moving on. During the week they have access to the waiting room, they are asked to think about their lives and choose the one memory they wish to keep with them for eternity. All other memories will be lost to them. What would be the defining memory of each of our lives, if we had to choose? For how many of us would that image take us back to our own childhood or adolescence? Would such a memory link us to a beloved life partner or to our children or grandchildren?
On the occasion of our eighteenth wedding anniversary, I decided to gift my husband with an 18-page photo album, each page representing one year of our lives spent together. Selecting a single photograph from our overstuffed albums to represent each year was challenging enough. Just one image from our entire lives? Indulging in a reflective exercise of this nature is a fascinating way to review our lives to this point and may leave us with the question as to what those people most intimately involved in our lives today would select as their memory of choice. Hopefully such consideration may lead to us re-evaluate how we conduct ourselves and how we relate to others as we try to leave an imprint for goodness in our relationships, families and communities.
Ultimately it is not the height, weight, complexion or the color of eyes or hair that remain with us after the death of a loved one. It is something of the spirit of the person that lingers— often the values that motivated their behavior, comical or wistful, that we recall.
Memory can be kind. When we think of parents long gone, parents who may have suffered from lingering illnesses at the end of their lives, many of us find that those painful memories are not the ones that bubble to consciousness when we remember them. Our memory bank opens for us to other times and seasons. Images resurface of our loved ones still healthy and vigorous.
A recent Japanese film entitled After Life presents a waiting room where those recently deceased, spend a short time before moving on. During the week they have access to the waiting room, they are asked to think about their lives and choose the one memory they wish to keep with them for eternity. All other memories will be lost to them. What would be the defining memory of each of our lives, if we had to choose? For how many of us would that image take us back to our own childhood or adolescence? Would such a memory link us to a beloved life partner or to our children or grandchildren?
On the occasion of our eighteenth wedding anniversary, I decided to gift my husband with an 18-page photo album, each page representing one year of our lives spent together. Selecting a single photograph from our overstuffed albums to represent each year was challenging enough. Just one image from our entire lives? Indulging in a reflective exercise of this nature is a fascinating way to review our lives to this point and may leave us with the question as to what those people most intimately involved in our lives today would select as their memory of choice. Hopefully such consideration may lead to us re-evaluate how we conduct ourselves and how we relate to others as we try to leave an imprint for goodness in our relationships, families and communities.
Dealing with issues we consider negative
Our understanding of God is challenged each time we have to confront those things in our lives that are painful or negative. For most of us, it is easy to see that Divinity is the source of the love, compassion, joy and fulfillment that hopefully is part of what we all experience. How do we see God when our vision is veiled by our tears and our inhumanity of one to another, defies comprehension?
Each time I teach a class in kaballa, it seems that the ultimate challenge we face is trying to understand how Divinity and “evil” can live side by side. Unlike other faith traditions, Judaism does not focus on a separate, external force that others label “evil” or “Satan.” We believe that the Wholly One is the just that, a singular source of all that we experience. So how then do we understand the cruel behavior that continues to plague humanity? Jewish mysticism teaches that we were given free will as a basic privilege and responsibility as spiritual beings on this human journey. Our time on this earth is the opportunity we have to learn to use that gift with understanding and wisdom. Some people, through choice, genetic predisposition or tragic circumstances in their own nurturing as children, make decisions to behave in ways that are ungodly, motivated by ego rather than godliness.
Ego, psychotherapists will explain, is the center within each of us that moderates our interchange with physical reality. A strong and healthy ego is essential to guide and protect us in our physical lives. A spiritual awareness that connects us to Divinity, that Source of all that was, is and shall be, is our channel to true morality and ethics as we find ways to live with others in celebration our individuality and diversity. It would seem then, that when the balance between the ego and the spiritual is disturbed, we find people behaving in amoral and ungodly ways and “evil” enters the world. Understanding free-will means we have to realize that as recipients of this gift, we cannot hold God responsible for the holocausts and tragedies of our world. We must hold ourselves accountable. When we choose to follow the dictates of an ego that is out of balance, the choices we make will be harmful to others and ourselves.
The more important issue then, is how do we deal with circumstances in which godliness is absent? We need to acknowledge that such circumstances do exist— but not because of some outside source. We can choose to carefully moderate our choices and see the long-term results of what we are doing. Do our actions ultimately harm ourselves, others or the environment? Do we act constructively or destructively? With compassion and tenderness we can interact with others who have been deeply, psychically wounded by the cruelty they have experienced at the hands of others. We should applaud the efforts they make to turn their painful experiences into ways in which they can help others.
Ultimately we need to realize that discernment rather than judgment is a kinder and gentler approach to living, and that our lives are enhanced by putting our energy into “attitudes of gratitude” for all the blessings we enjoy rather than squander energy by standing in judgment of those around us. From the place of gratitude within will come that sense of compassion and love that the world needs. The choice to do so is ours.
Each time I teach a class in kaballa, it seems that the ultimate challenge we face is trying to understand how Divinity and “evil” can live side by side. Unlike other faith traditions, Judaism does not focus on a separate, external force that others label “evil” or “Satan.” We believe that the Wholly One is the just that, a singular source of all that we experience. So how then do we understand the cruel behavior that continues to plague humanity? Jewish mysticism teaches that we were given free will as a basic privilege and responsibility as spiritual beings on this human journey. Our time on this earth is the opportunity we have to learn to use that gift with understanding and wisdom. Some people, through choice, genetic predisposition or tragic circumstances in their own nurturing as children, make decisions to behave in ways that are ungodly, motivated by ego rather than godliness.
Ego, psychotherapists will explain, is the center within each of us that moderates our interchange with physical reality. A strong and healthy ego is essential to guide and protect us in our physical lives. A spiritual awareness that connects us to Divinity, that Source of all that was, is and shall be, is our channel to true morality and ethics as we find ways to live with others in celebration our individuality and diversity. It would seem then, that when the balance between the ego and the spiritual is disturbed, we find people behaving in amoral and ungodly ways and “evil” enters the world. Understanding free-will means we have to realize that as recipients of this gift, we cannot hold God responsible for the holocausts and tragedies of our world. We must hold ourselves accountable. When we choose to follow the dictates of an ego that is out of balance, the choices we make will be harmful to others and ourselves.
The more important issue then, is how do we deal with circumstances in which godliness is absent? We need to acknowledge that such circumstances do exist— but not because of some outside source. We can choose to carefully moderate our choices and see the long-term results of what we are doing. Do our actions ultimately harm ourselves, others or the environment? Do we act constructively or destructively? With compassion and tenderness we can interact with others who have been deeply, psychically wounded by the cruelty they have experienced at the hands of others. We should applaud the efforts they make to turn their painful experiences into ways in which they can help others.
Ultimately we need to realize that discernment rather than judgment is a kinder and gentler approach to living, and that our lives are enhanced by putting our energy into “attitudes of gratitude” for all the blessings we enjoy rather than squander energy by standing in judgment of those around us. From the place of gratitude within will come that sense of compassion and love that the world needs. The choice to do so is ours.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Honoring the Dark
The great mystery of life that we enjoy for all too a short a while, fascinates and intrigues us. We quantitatively mark our allotted time with days, weeks, months and years, aspects of Chronus— that mighty and ancient keeper of times and seasons and cycles that mark the passage of time. These we note and celebrate as day turns to night, and the seasons change from spring to summer and autumn to winter. Our great religious traditions add strata of meaning to these ongoing cycles, often as an overlay to the ancient practice of marking the change of seasons.
I have developed a personal celebration in keeping with the seasons but one that honors the mystery of life. After the Jewish festival of Sukkot, I plant, on my sunny kitchen window-sill, the seeds of the citron, that boldly yellow citrus fruit whose delightful perfume is both heady and sensual. Each day I lovingly attend the pot of dark earth, adding my love and good wishes as I water, waiting to observe the first signs of the quickening of those seeds to life. I take this annual opportunity to ponder the darkness, with its promise of life and new beginnings. The silence of that darkness seems to go on endlessly-— from my impatient, contemporary perspective. Living in a world of instant everything we are so used to immediate results. We get impatient when the internet does not open as soon as our fingers press the enter key, or if, heaven forbid, an email response takes more than a day to come back to us.
Nature’s time is very different and cannot be hurried by human folly. With my annual planting of these seeds, I am reminded to curtail my angst and learn the art of patience that our ancestors, like those who are still in touch with the natural cycles, understand so well. Each morning I search for that first tiny spark of green that will assure me that all is well, without my twenty-first century desire to scratch into the earth and check! Eventually I am rewarded and the day arrives when first one, then a few more shoots break the surface of the dark earth, which then seems to bubble with tiny, brave, joyful green stems, pushing through the dark night of their gestational solitude and silence, and into light, and life.
This annual commemoration of the life force is my personal reminder to honor the darkness in our lives that births all possibilities and potentials. It is my ritual to celebrate the less well-known marker of time that the ancient Greeks referred to as Kairos. This qualitative aspect of time may be less familiar to us but is an equally valid layer of our lives and awareness, the place of ‘once-upon-a-time and faraway’, where new ideas are born and all things possible. It is a realm that we can enter thru the imaginative process, perhaps most easily accessed in in times of silences and places of darkness.
Rabbi Larry Kushner says:
“Without the dark womb of sleep, there could be no sensation of light, emergence of consciousness, or place to which to return. In the darkness there is no arrangement of past and future, no self-reflection, no ego, no neurosis. . . all genuine creating must originate in the darkness. All transformation must commence during the night. . . you cannot predict what will happen in darkness.”
The complexity and reality of our lives are lived in both the darkness and the light— yet we have been taught to fear the darkness. We are taught to be discomforted when we cannot see where we are going; when we sense we have lost our ‘illusion’ of control. Control? Are we ever in control of anything— other than our own responses to the multi-layered reality of our ongoing questions, challenges and perplexities that confound us, and that are our lives?
When we find ourselves cocooned in the mystery of darkness, we can choose to be discomforted, or release the illusion of being charge and wait— wait for the sprouts of unimaginable change that will come. Life is not supposed to be totally understood, controlled, manipulated and without surprise. How ‘dull’ such an existence would be! The thrill and excitement of being alive comes from the ‘not knowing’, the continual possibility of the novel and the new, and the search for understanding and meaning. Not–knowing may bring uncertainly and confusion; such spiritual confusion, Krista Tippet reminds us, makes theologians of us all. We are forced to make sense of the universe through our own experiences, and to determine for ourselves, what the sacred, ultimate truths in life really are. A treat for those of us who are striving for authenticity and autonomy.
I have developed a personal celebration in keeping with the seasons but one that honors the mystery of life. After the Jewish festival of Sukkot, I plant, on my sunny kitchen window-sill, the seeds of the citron, that boldly yellow citrus fruit whose delightful perfume is both heady and sensual. Each day I lovingly attend the pot of dark earth, adding my love and good wishes as I water, waiting to observe the first signs of the quickening of those seeds to life. I take this annual opportunity to ponder the darkness, with its promise of life and new beginnings. The silence of that darkness seems to go on endlessly-— from my impatient, contemporary perspective. Living in a world of instant everything we are so used to immediate results. We get impatient when the internet does not open as soon as our fingers press the enter key, or if, heaven forbid, an email response takes more than a day to come back to us.
Nature’s time is very different and cannot be hurried by human folly. With my annual planting of these seeds, I am reminded to curtail my angst and learn the art of patience that our ancestors, like those who are still in touch with the natural cycles, understand so well. Each morning I search for that first tiny spark of green that will assure me that all is well, without my twenty-first century desire to scratch into the earth and check! Eventually I am rewarded and the day arrives when first one, then a few more shoots break the surface of the dark earth, which then seems to bubble with tiny, brave, joyful green stems, pushing through the dark night of their gestational solitude and silence, and into light, and life.
This annual commemoration of the life force is my personal reminder to honor the darkness in our lives that births all possibilities and potentials. It is my ritual to celebrate the less well-known marker of time that the ancient Greeks referred to as Kairos. This qualitative aspect of time may be less familiar to us but is an equally valid layer of our lives and awareness, the place of ‘once-upon-a-time and faraway’, where new ideas are born and all things possible. It is a realm that we can enter thru the imaginative process, perhaps most easily accessed in in times of silences and places of darkness.
Rabbi Larry Kushner says:
“Without the dark womb of sleep, there could be no sensation of light, emergence of consciousness, or place to which to return. In the darkness there is no arrangement of past and future, no self-reflection, no ego, no neurosis. . . all genuine creating must originate in the darkness. All transformation must commence during the night. . . you cannot predict what will happen in darkness.”
The complexity and reality of our lives are lived in both the darkness and the light— yet we have been taught to fear the darkness. We are taught to be discomforted when we cannot see where we are going; when we sense we have lost our ‘illusion’ of control. Control? Are we ever in control of anything— other than our own responses to the multi-layered reality of our ongoing questions, challenges and perplexities that confound us, and that are our lives?
When we find ourselves cocooned in the mystery of darkness, we can choose to be discomforted, or release the illusion of being charge and wait— wait for the sprouts of unimaginable change that will come. Life is not supposed to be totally understood, controlled, manipulated and without surprise. How ‘dull’ such an existence would be! The thrill and excitement of being alive comes from the ‘not knowing’, the continual possibility of the novel and the new, and the search for understanding and meaning. Not–knowing may bring uncertainly and confusion; such spiritual confusion, Krista Tippet reminds us, makes theologians of us all. We are forced to make sense of the universe through our own experiences, and to determine for ourselves, what the sacred, ultimate truths in life really are. A treat for those of us who are striving for authenticity and autonomy.
Justice and compassion
Judaism teaches that the world is sustained by three things: - by Torah, by worship and by loving kindness. As people of the book, The Torah is the Law and the basis of everything we believe, as we forge our covenant with Divinity. A basic tenet of Judaism is that we partners and co-creators with Divinity— in a relationship in which we receive God’s blessings if we agree to behave in Godly ways. This means that we not only recite blessings but that our lives are to be blessings, helping to make the world better because we are in it.
Ours is a religion that stresses deed over creed. Aware of our connection with Divinity, our lives become an act of worship. Far more than attending prayer services and reciting the required words, our actions need to show that we understand the imperative for righteous behavior, based on acting and reacting from a sense of loving kindness— with a sense of compassion in all that we do. The counterbalance to compassion is justice.
We live in a world of dualities. In all aspects of our lives, we try to find a place of balance between the two polarities or extremes. Justice is based on the concept that we are all children of one God. It demands that we regard and treat everyone as we wish to be treated because it is the right and moral thing to do. The sage Hillel said: “What is hateful to you do not do to any person. That is the whole Torah. All the rest is commentary.”
Compassion is that innate sense of unconditional love that keeps the universe afloat and our ability to love unconditionally is the way we reflect Divinity in whose image we are created. It is our ability to share the pain of others and to empathize and love them irrespective of where they are on their own spiritual journey. We need compassion and justice in balance. A world only of justice/judgment would be harsh, with laws and ordinances that see the world in terms of black or white; a world of only compassion is without boundaries in which the continuous flow of energy can run us dry. We need to be able express our compassion for others while without allowing the well to run dry. We need to be able to treat ourselves compassionately too.
Hillel continued: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me, If only for myself, what am I and if not know when?” If I am not for myself— if I have no sense of my own worth and value how will any other person see worth within me? There is a difference between selfishness and self-worth. We need to acknowledge our own needs as well as the gifts that we were granted to give back to the world. If however, my concern remains entirely around me and my own needs at the expense of others, I am selfish. And there is no better time to start than now. It is a waste of time regretting what we have not accomplished in the past; if we similarly waste our time thinking about what we can accomplish in the future, we are not living in the present, where our attention needs to be. In a world that is so out of kilter in so many ways, perhaps we can find ways to balance the two forces of compassion and justice in our own lives, and if not now, when?
Ours is a religion that stresses deed over creed. Aware of our connection with Divinity, our lives become an act of worship. Far more than attending prayer services and reciting the required words, our actions need to show that we understand the imperative for righteous behavior, based on acting and reacting from a sense of loving kindness— with a sense of compassion in all that we do. The counterbalance to compassion is justice.
We live in a world of dualities. In all aspects of our lives, we try to find a place of balance between the two polarities or extremes. Justice is based on the concept that we are all children of one God. It demands that we regard and treat everyone as we wish to be treated because it is the right and moral thing to do. The sage Hillel said: “What is hateful to you do not do to any person. That is the whole Torah. All the rest is commentary.”
Compassion is that innate sense of unconditional love that keeps the universe afloat and our ability to love unconditionally is the way we reflect Divinity in whose image we are created. It is our ability to share the pain of others and to empathize and love them irrespective of where they are on their own spiritual journey. We need compassion and justice in balance. A world only of justice/judgment would be harsh, with laws and ordinances that see the world in terms of black or white; a world of only compassion is without boundaries in which the continuous flow of energy can run us dry. We need to be able express our compassion for others while without allowing the well to run dry. We need to be able to treat ourselves compassionately too.
Hillel continued: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me, If only for myself, what am I and if not know when?” If I am not for myself— if I have no sense of my own worth and value how will any other person see worth within me? There is a difference between selfishness and self-worth. We need to acknowledge our own needs as well as the gifts that we were granted to give back to the world. If however, my concern remains entirely around me and my own needs at the expense of others, I am selfish. And there is no better time to start than now. It is a waste of time regretting what we have not accomplished in the past; if we similarly waste our time thinking about what we can accomplish in the future, we are not living in the present, where our attention needs to be. In a world that is so out of kilter in so many ways, perhaps we can find ways to balance the two forces of compassion and justice in our own lives, and if not now, when?
The coming election as a focal point
With the feeling of fall in the air and we turn inwards as this season encourages, our thoughts turn to the crucial decisions we will be making in November regarding the future we envisage for our nation with its global impact on the human family. We are reminded to take advantage of the privilege we have of using the ballot box to express our vision for the best that is possible for ourselves, our children and grandchildren and the planet that nurtures us.
Perhaps we will look beyond ourselves and consider how we can make our world more compassionate and just. Rabbi Rami Shapiro, in his inspirational book Minyan suggests that instead of living our lives governed by commandments and moral codes from any outside source, we take the responsibility of living our lives by vows that we personally and consciously undertake.
Womenforwomen.org offers us the opportunity of sponsoring a woman survivor of war. With a relatively small monthly contribution, we can actively help one family to enjoy some of the simple basic necessities we take for granted. Kiva.org gives us the possibility of helping a family living in abject physical poverty— with imagination, dreams and hopes still alive— to start a small business that will change their lives in ways we cannot even comprehend.
Lani Silver’s website, lanisilver.com encourages us to become part of a movement to banish racism, perhaps the ultimate scourge in human experience, tragically alive and malevolently thriving in every community. Read Lani’s biography— she is truly an inspiration to women everywhere. So too is Al Gore. His acceptance speech given as he received his well-deserved Nobel Peace prize was deeply touching. Statesman that he is, he provides a wonderful example of taking a major setback in life and being able to find a different way of contributing to the welfare of all. Using role-models such as these, we can energize our own desire to play a small part in healing a broken world. We certainly can commit to make a difference in some small way, to take on one project, seriously and personally. We can start by making the best choices we can regarding the vital political decisions in November and encouraging everyone who has the right to vote to make sure they utilize this privilege.
Perhaps we will look beyond ourselves and consider how we can make our world more compassionate and just. Rabbi Rami Shapiro, in his inspirational book Minyan suggests that instead of living our lives governed by commandments and moral codes from any outside source, we take the responsibility of living our lives by vows that we personally and consciously undertake.
Womenforwomen.org offers us the opportunity of sponsoring a woman survivor of war. With a relatively small monthly contribution, we can actively help one family to enjoy some of the simple basic necessities we take for granted. Kiva.org gives us the possibility of helping a family living in abject physical poverty— with imagination, dreams and hopes still alive— to start a small business that will change their lives in ways we cannot even comprehend.
Lani Silver’s website, lanisilver.com encourages us to become part of a movement to banish racism, perhaps the ultimate scourge in human experience, tragically alive and malevolently thriving in every community. Read Lani’s biography— she is truly an inspiration to women everywhere. So too is Al Gore. His acceptance speech given as he received his well-deserved Nobel Peace prize was deeply touching. Statesman that he is, he provides a wonderful example of taking a major setback in life and being able to find a different way of contributing to the welfare of all. Using role-models such as these, we can energize our own desire to play a small part in healing a broken world. We certainly can commit to make a difference in some small way, to take on one project, seriously and personally. We can start by making the best choices we can regarding the vital political decisions in November and encouraging everyone who has the right to vote to make sure they utilize this privilege.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Is it real?
My five year-old grandson has a constant question as he views his world: “Is it real?” How often do we ask ourselves the same question? Should we be asking it more often? I understand what he means. Today our children are exposed to the world of digital fantasy where all their favorite characters (in my grandson’s case) — those created by PBS or the fairy tale stories we knew from our own childhood, as he is not exposed to TV. Everything is visible in moving form and his constant question is a search for reassurance that these dancing animals, cute as can be and moving to the music in a very ‘human’ way are created by human beings. His search for reassurance becomes more serious when watching the tornado in Wizard of Oz or when encountering the villains in any story he watches. “Is it real?” An easy question to answer— or so it seems. Obviously all animated movies are not “real.” Neither are the stories of the fairy tales we hear— or are they? From her book, The Dreamer Awakes, Alice Kane suggests:
The dreamer awakes,
The shadow goes by
When I tell you a tale,
The tale is a lie.
But ponder it well,
Fair maiden, good youth:
The tale is a lie,
What it tells is the truth.
For adults too, reality is not simple to define. Quantum physics describes a world in which apparently solid objects are in fact composed of molecules in constant motion. Our presence as observers can be shown to alter the outcome of events. Tiny fragments of holographic film contain the entire image of everything visible in the original whole. Fractal designs confound us as they repeat themselves into infinity in objects as common to us as snowflakes or leaves. We are probably familiar with those intricate and colorful designs— apparently two dimensional— until we hold them close to our eyes and start to move our heads slowly backwards and suddenly discover a three dimensional object hidden in plain sight.
Fiction writers tell us that there are only some two dozen plots on which all stories are adaptations, most of them based on the mythic hero’s journey. Mythologists show how archetypal themes and characters are alive within us and on whose stage we create our individual life dramas. Jean Houston’s definition of myth as something that never was and always is seems to me profound.
As children lead the way, it may serve us well to constantly ask ourselves the same question my grandson does: “Is it real?” The world we have created and believe to be true— a world of Bible as literal, the inevitable separations of individuals and nations as “better than” or “less than” based on race, religion, nationality or creed— is it real? Ponder and decide.
The dreamer awakes,
The shadow goes by
When I tell you a tale,
The tale is a lie.
But ponder it well,
Fair maiden, good youth:
The tale is a lie,
What it tells is the truth.
For adults too, reality is not simple to define. Quantum physics describes a world in which apparently solid objects are in fact composed of molecules in constant motion. Our presence as observers can be shown to alter the outcome of events. Tiny fragments of holographic film contain the entire image of everything visible in the original whole. Fractal designs confound us as they repeat themselves into infinity in objects as common to us as snowflakes or leaves. We are probably familiar with those intricate and colorful designs— apparently two dimensional— until we hold them close to our eyes and start to move our heads slowly backwards and suddenly discover a three dimensional object hidden in plain sight.
Fiction writers tell us that there are only some two dozen plots on which all stories are adaptations, most of them based on the mythic hero’s journey. Mythologists show how archetypal themes and characters are alive within us and on whose stage we create our individual life dramas. Jean Houston’s definition of myth as something that never was and always is seems to me profound.
As children lead the way, it may serve us well to constantly ask ourselves the same question my grandson does: “Is it real?” The world we have created and believe to be true— a world of Bible as literal, the inevitable separations of individuals and nations as “better than” or “less than” based on race, religion, nationality or creed— is it real? Ponder and decide.
Human beings and human doings
Perhaps it is the temporary nature of a sunset that makes it so beautiful. Within a very short period of time, we see the western sky brighten and deepen intensely before the sun slips behind the horizon, drawing down the indigo cover of night. People who live in coastal California watch the spectacle in awe. It is more than the beauty of the shifting colors that draws attention. Perhaps it is a reminder of the temporary nature of everything in our human Lives.
Eckhard Tolle reminds us that as human beings we face the paradox of enjoying both ‘human-ness’ and ‘being-ness’; in the midst of this duality we find the challenge and the potential of living our lives most fully. We are familiar with the human side of our lives— the world under the control of egoic mind, that keeps up a constant chatter of past memories and future expectations, all that prevent us from experiencing each moment. And the one thing we are guaranteed with everything we know and understand about our humanness is that it is all temporary— the very fabric of our lives, wants and experiences. In every instance, the adage “this too shall pass” applies.
The other side of the equation is our ‘being-ness’ that we access most easily through the largely unfamiliar right-brain avenues open to us. We have not been trained to understand this reality as valid. It is the place of the present, of dreams and images rather than words and ideas. Where the realm of the left-brain seems so solid and provable, the right-brain opens to us all that eternal, ephemeral and true. It is a place of spacious, silent oneness. Unlike the dualistic nature of the human world, here our state of existence has no opposite. It is from this interconnected ‘being-ness’ that we begin our human journey and to which we return when our temporary sojourn is complete.
In Jewish wisdom literature we find the suggestion that we each carry two slips of paper in our pockets each day. On the first is written: ‘It is for me the Universe was created’ and on the other ‘I am but a mote of dust in the Universe.’ Such a practice acknowledges the universal ‘I am’ of which I am a part and at the same time reiterates that the ‘me/mine separation’ in which I believe I live shows the insignificance of my temporal story.
Each time we watch a sunset and feel ourselves deeply moved by its beauty, let us recall and revel in both our own temporary human nature and at the same time the eternal spirit in which we live.
Eckhard Tolle reminds us that as human beings we face the paradox of enjoying both ‘human-ness’ and ‘being-ness’; in the midst of this duality we find the challenge and the potential of living our lives most fully. We are familiar with the human side of our lives— the world under the control of egoic mind, that keeps up a constant chatter of past memories and future expectations, all that prevent us from experiencing each moment. And the one thing we are guaranteed with everything we know and understand about our humanness is that it is all temporary— the very fabric of our lives, wants and experiences. In every instance, the adage “this too shall pass” applies.
The other side of the equation is our ‘being-ness’ that we access most easily through the largely unfamiliar right-brain avenues open to us. We have not been trained to understand this reality as valid. It is the place of the present, of dreams and images rather than words and ideas. Where the realm of the left-brain seems so solid and provable, the right-brain opens to us all that eternal, ephemeral and true. It is a place of spacious, silent oneness. Unlike the dualistic nature of the human world, here our state of existence has no opposite. It is from this interconnected ‘being-ness’ that we begin our human journey and to which we return when our temporary sojourn is complete.
In Jewish wisdom literature we find the suggestion that we each carry two slips of paper in our pockets each day. On the first is written: ‘It is for me the Universe was created’ and on the other ‘I am but a mote of dust in the Universe.’ Such a practice acknowledges the universal ‘I am’ of which I am a part and at the same time reiterates that the ‘me/mine separation’ in which I believe I live shows the insignificance of my temporal story.
Each time we watch a sunset and feel ourselves deeply moved by its beauty, let us recall and revel in both our own temporary human nature and at the same time the eternal spirit in which we live.
The sanctity of our words
As we approach the New Year, we take time to consider the year just passed and contemplate the year to come. We have taken time to make peace with those we may have offended and forgiven those who have upset us. Until we have done these two things, we are not ready to ask for Divine forgiveness, which is the essence of this High Holy Day period.
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel's spiritual legacy is an inspiration for us all. As we approach the Jewish New Year, Jews all over the world are taking time to consider the year just passed and contemplating the year to come. It is believed that during the month leading to the High Holy Days we need to make peace with those we have offended and forgive those who have offended us. Without this, we are not ready to ask for Divine forgiveness— the essence of the day of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel’s spiritual legacy is an inspiration for us all at signal moments such as these. His teaching reminded us of the significance of our words, which according to Jewish belief, creates worlds. Just as Divinity spoke the world into being, as the story of Creation in Genesis tells us, we too create our world with the words we speak. The biblical story could have stated that God sculpted, painted or sang the world into being as author Naomi Alderman points out in her novel, Disobedience; the world was spoken into life. Our words are sacred. They are tools we use “oh-so-easily” forgetting the power that they carry. We can build families and communities of caring, love and friendship through the words that express our thoughts or, on the contrary, careless, unkind and hateful words, that once uttered are impossible to take back.
The Holocaust, Heschel reminds us, did not start with concentration camps and gas chambers but rather with evil words and defamatory propaganda. We can commit this year to examining the content of our words. In addition to expressing the busyness of our daily lives, how many words do we use, on a daily level, to express our wonder at the miracle of being alive? This sense of mystery connects us to the spiritual patterning of existence. Heschel remind that when we die, we cease to be surprised. Alive, we should be surprised by the miracle of each sunrise as well as find ourselves equally surprised by every unkind word or act we witness. The latter should never allow us to accommodate to the violence all around us. The Jewish New Year does not celebrate the birth or life of an individual, but rather the birthday of the world. What a perfect time for all of us to consider our words to one another as we contemplate the world we are creating for ourselves, our families, friends and communities.
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel's spiritual legacy is an inspiration for us all. As we approach the Jewish New Year, Jews all over the world are taking time to consider the year just passed and contemplating the year to come. It is believed that during the month leading to the High Holy Days we need to make peace with those we have offended and forgive those who have offended us. Without this, we are not ready to ask for Divine forgiveness— the essence of the day of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel’s spiritual legacy is an inspiration for us all at signal moments such as these. His teaching reminded us of the significance of our words, which according to Jewish belief, creates worlds. Just as Divinity spoke the world into being, as the story of Creation in Genesis tells us, we too create our world with the words we speak. The biblical story could have stated that God sculpted, painted or sang the world into being as author Naomi Alderman points out in her novel, Disobedience; the world was spoken into life. Our words are sacred. They are tools we use “oh-so-easily” forgetting the power that they carry. We can build families and communities of caring, love and friendship through the words that express our thoughts or, on the contrary, careless, unkind and hateful words, that once uttered are impossible to take back.
The Holocaust, Heschel reminds us, did not start with concentration camps and gas chambers but rather with evil words and defamatory propaganda. We can commit this year to examining the content of our words. In addition to expressing the busyness of our daily lives, how many words do we use, on a daily level, to express our wonder at the miracle of being alive? This sense of mystery connects us to the spiritual patterning of existence. Heschel remind that when we die, we cease to be surprised. Alive, we should be surprised by the miracle of each sunrise as well as find ourselves equally surprised by every unkind word or act we witness. The latter should never allow us to accommodate to the violence all around us. The Jewish New Year does not celebrate the birth or life of an individual, but rather the birthday of the world. What a perfect time for all of us to consider our words to one another as we contemplate the world we are creating for ourselves, our families, friends and communities.
Sept 29 2009
Tomorrow evening we welcome in the Jewish New year 5769. May it be a good year for all.
I plan to post the articles I have written over the past couple of years for the Women's Press as a starting point for discussion. The blog will be aimed at creating a sharing space for the exchange of thought and feeling about sanctity in a secular world. I am Jewish and write from this perspective. I welcome the participation of men and women from all religious and spiritual traditions and look forward to sharing different ideas and perspectives.
Acknowledging the Sacred Feminine in our lives enables us to discover new ways of relating to one another, of establishing a value system we can treasure that crosses all artificial boundaries created by religious division, and of learning to celebrate the diversity that makes us so interesting while respecting the sacred spark within us that links as together as part of one human family.
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