Singing the Blues

Remember that old song, "Can't live, when living is without you. Can't live, can't live any more!" I don't know who sang it, but today the words are running through my mind with a slight variation on the words. "Can't live, when living is focused on you."

Yeah, that's right. I admit it. I've been so damn focused on where my husband "is" right now with his spiritual path (or lack thereof) and his attitude towards life and his beliefs about God and about life, that I've not been living my life at all. In fact, I've been miserable. And I've been making him miserable. And I've been making our relationship miserable.

I'm a total believer in the fact that what we focus on expands. I know that when I am thinking about red convertibles, I definitely see more red convertibles on the road. Even if I'm not "creating" them, I'm more aware of them. In my own perception, I perceive more of them. It's now different in my relationship experience and in my life experience. The more I focus on what I don't like about how my husband is living his life and about how he is thinking and what he is believing, the more aware I become of all of this. And the more upset I become about it. And the more I see of it, and the more miserable I become. And that surely does not lead to me living my life fully at all.

So, while I was walking with a friend today, she basically told me to let my husband have his own spiritual path. She said he might not look like he's on one right now, but his questioning and his disbelief might really just be one stop on his spiritual path. She reminded me that consciousness and spirituality are all about questioning and reevaluating and coming to new understandings of our beliefs. So, if he is angry and feeling like a victim, if he want to shout at God or not believe in God, if he wants to not believe in anything right now, maybe that is just part of his spiritual path. Maybe, like Jacob, he is wrestling with God right now, or needs to. And, she said, I should be compassionate and loving until he finds his way or comes to a new understanding.

Okay. Got it. I've been one complaining, unhappy, judgemental, impatient wife (there's another word I could use, but I won't.) -- and not too spiritual either. And I've been spending all my time focused on him rather than on me, focused on what I perceive as not working, not right, not what I want rather than on what is working, what is right what is working.

Time to focus on what enlivens me, on what brings life into our relationship, on what helps me live fully. Maybe in the process, it will help him do the same. In either case, I'll stop singing the blues.

Pulling the Weeds of Your Life

Every spring I'm faced with a daunting task: I must pull enormous amounts of weeds that grow on my large rural property. I live in the Santa Cruz Mountains on about four acres of land. Not all of that land has been cleared or is usable. However, the area around the house has, of course, been cleared and there is a path that leads to an area where a house was once supposed to be built that has also been cleared. This area, which runs all the way to the edge of our property, contains a small orchard and a fenced garden, as well as a small "cottage." All the land between and around our house and the edge of our property becomes totally overgrown with a variety of weeds and wild grasses every year. This includes my fenced garden. Last year we managed to put mulch the pathway, and that did stay somewhat weed free, but this year it has once again turned into a path of weeds as the rains have stopped and the sun and warm weather have heralded in spring.

And so begins my spring work: pulling weeds. Huge heaps of weeds. I pull weeds each weekend until my hands and arms are so sore that it becomes difficult on Monday to hold a pen or to type on my keyboard. I pull so many weeds that The piles are knee high until I haul them off, wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow to the mulch pile. I dump them over the edge of a hill. It used to be along way down to the bottom of the mulch pile, but after three years of dumping on this "pile," the pile has made it's way all the way to the top of the hill. I've actually extended our property by about a yard of decomposing weeds.

This year I began early, and the weeds are still short by comparison to most years. They don't yet even come up to my knees. Other years, I've waited until June and they have been shoulder high. The first year I weeded the fenced garden, my husband couldn't see me among the weeds.

As I spent the third day pulling weeds, I began to think about how many weeds I pull -- and even if I pull them before they go to seed -- some still seem to reseed and come back the next year. It struck me that some issues in my life take the same course. I work on them and think I've got them fixed (pulled), but they sprout up again at some time in the future. And then I have to work on them once again. If we push the issues down and ignore them or try to cover them up, they always rear there heads as well. (Two years ago we put down a fabric weed guard, but this year the weeds had either come up around the edges or simpled begun growing in the mulch on top of it.)

Of course, I could use some weed killer, which would poison the plant all the way to the roots. I don't have this choice with my personal issues. I can't treat it with an issue killer. I can't pull or dig it out. I have to actually find a way to resolve it or come to terms with it in some way that ensures it won't "grow" back.

My question as I pulled weed after week was simple: Is there a way to ensure that our issues don't come back once we think we've resolved them? Or do we have to resign ourselves to dealing with them over and over again, year after year, just like the weeds that grow on my property?

I think some issues we resolve well enough that, for the most part, they don't "grow back." Maybe we work on them hard enough that we managed to get out ever last bit of root or we pull it out enough times before it goes to seed that no seeds are left to sprout. But other issues simple are harder to eradicate. Just when you think they are gone, you find a little shoot trying to find the sun. You have to take a good look at it again, deal with it in some way, and then hope that this time you really did get rid of it.

Sometimes, the process of trying to get rid of the issue makes things worse temporarily, such as when I have to pull out poison oak. If I'm not careful, the plant touches my skin and for several weeks I'm itchy in those places. My skin is irritated. Problems and issues that arise time and time again can cause the same kind of reaction, seeming bigger than the last time, more aggravating than before, until we learn a better way to resolve it or move through it.

So, I suppose our personal issues and problems are just the weeds of our life, and we must resign ourselves to having to occasionally -- or continually -- deal with them in one way or another. Over time, the number of weeds we have to pull gets smaller and smaller, but the garden of our lives, like any garden, will probably always have at least a few weeds that sprout up and require our attention.

Purim: When Laughter is More Healing than Chicken Soup

Last night as I sat in temple and watched a parade of different costume-clad people read and chant in a variety of unique, creative and humorous way from the Megillat Esther, I realized an important reason why on Purim we are supposed to in some way blur the difference between evil Haman and the good Mordechai in the story. My husband had just asked me on the way to the holiday service, why people drink alcohol on Purim, and I had explained that it was for just that reason, but he wanted a deeper explanation. I'd given him one that was too philosophical for both our tastes, but by the end of the service, I had one that related directly to life and to my own belief system.

(If you don't know the history behind the holiday of Purim, Google it and you'll find a good synopsis. Basically, Haman wanted to kill the Jews. Mordechai, a Jew, tells Queen Esther, also a Jew, to tell the King, who doesn't know he married a Jew. She does. The Jews are saved. On Purim, Jews dress up in costumes to remember the "hidden" aspects of this story and they read aloud the historical account.)

Every day we struggle with the evil in our lives. We may see evil as yucky neighbors, debt, a terrible boss, an abusive spouse, ill health, loneliness, war, politicians, bills we can't pay... Each of us has our own Haman -- or Hamans. What happens, however, as the line blurs between evil and good, between Haman and Mordechai? We can no longer tell what is good and what is evil. If we can't tell, then it could be either good or evil, right? However, what we realize is that it all comes from one Source. As we read in Devarim (4:35), "Ein ode milvado." Which means, "There is nothing but God." It's all God. Haman and Mordechai, good and evil. All God.

We are taught in Kabbalah that nothing is a coincidence. So, it was no coincidence that Esther ended up in that palace as queen at that particular time. It was no coincidence that previously her uncle Mordechai had overheard a plot to kill the king and had told Esther, so the kings life had been saved. It was no coincidence that all these things led up to the events that we now celebrate on Purim -- Esther's saving of the Jewish people.

Kabbalah also teaches us that at this time, goodness is concealed. It's masked just like the masks we wear on Purim. Everything we go through in our lives, including our experience of what we call evil, leads us to spiritual transformation. Thus, evil shows up in our lives for a reason. Haman knocks at the door not by coincidence but on purpose.

What should we do when we open the door and find him there instead of Mordechai? Laugh. That's when the transformation occurs. That's when the line between good and evil begins to blur, and we realize there is no good and no evil. There is only God. And then we can laugh with joy.

I sat in the sanctuary laughing for two hours last night as the megillah was read. I saw friends in hilarious costumes cracking jokes and offering sacrilegious commentaries on the text. I sang funny songs. I heard Hebrew chanting done to melodies from to old peace songs. And we yelled and booed at Haman and cheered for Mordechai and even acknowledged the Esther and Vashti when there names were read. We had fun. We laughed and laughed and laughed. And as we laughed, it became hard for me to see the difference between my personal Hamans and my Mordechais. My worries about money disappeared, and I felt abundant. The tension between my husband and I dissipated for that amount of time, and I enjoyed his presence next to me and his shoulder pressing against mine. The stress I have felt about work left my body and my mind, and I felt peace and joy come over me in its place. The laughter was more healing than any bowl of chicken soup could ever be.

And maybe that's the important reason why we dress up in costumes and do silly things on Purim. The story of Esther commemorates a time when things looked dire for the Jews, but it turned out just fine. Often our lives look dire in one way or another. When we celebrate Purim with vast amounts of joy and laughter, we realize that things can be fine. In fact, they are more than fine in that moment. In that moment, they are joyous. We are joyous. All the evil is transformed into good, and we get to feel the wondrous healing that brings into our lives.

No wonder so many rabbis and sages have spoken about the importance of Purim. God's hand in the story may be hidden. It may seem like a story about man's hand in events, but it's really both. And by taking hold of our ability to act -- to choose to be happy and joyous -- we allow ourselves to experience transformation and to connect with the concealed part of what goes on in our own lives -- God.

So, give me a bowl of laughter over chicken soup any day of the week.

24 Minutes by the Ocean

Living fully today meant taking myself to the ocean if only for the 24 minutes I was allowed to leave my car parked in its parking spot. (Yes, the meter only allowed me to pay for 24 minutes.) It also meant paying myself for time spent preparing for a workshop and showing up to teach it even though no one showed up.

I admit it: I was depressed today. I had worked really hard to get ready for the Saturday night class and workshop. In fact, I gave up Shabbat to prepare my for both, because I had too much work during the week to do so. I can't say I had focused a lot of time and energy on creating a huge crowd at either the class or workshop prior to Saturday. I had done some advertising, but I hadn't focused my thoughts. I hadn't used my own Kabbalistic conscious creation process except in short spurts. I had, however, spent all day Saturday preparing. And for my efforts (minimal, I suppose...) I had one student on Saturday night and none on Sunday.

So, I drove myself to Aptos, CA, the next town over, and parked in a 24 minute parking spot. I put my money in the meter and first went to a little metaphysical shop down the street. There I purchased a beautiful amethyst bracelet. Payment for my time and effort, I rationalized. A gift to myself for putting myself out there, working hard, being willing to offer the class, trying to realize my dreams, wanting to share with and help others.

I walked back to the car. The meter had already run out. I put more money in the meter and bought myself another 24 minutes. Quickly I walked to the beach and sat on some rocks and looked out across the green, blue water to Monterrey.

The ocean always makes me feel better. I love the ocean and wish I had more time to walk and sit by its shore, to spend time writing while I listen to the music of its waves against the sand and the gulls in the air and the sea lions near the pier, to meditate with the surf as my mantra, to read and rest and rejuvenate. My busy life more often than not precludes me getting to the ocean as much as I'd like, although I can be at the shore in under 20 minutes. My favorite local beach is only about 30 minutes away.

So, while I could have let life bring me down today, I decided to live a little...to be good to myself. The bracelet will remind me of my efforts and the purple stones will offer me their energy every day. The trip to the beach was the real treat that lifted my spirits, reminded me of the goodness life has to offer, and reconnected me with something greater than the little disappointments in life.

Sitting there on that rock I remembered that the Source of that vast ocean and that beautiful piece of land on the horizon and the wind in my hair and the sun on my face was also the Source of the creative power within me. My desire to give back what I have learned -- to teach -- allows me to tap into that Source, which wants only to give goodness to me. I need only learn how to receive it, and to let it flow like the ocean waves. In and out. Receiving. Giving.

Just as God exists in everything, God exists in my experience this day...even in the empty classroom and my disappointment. God lies in the free will I was given to choose what to do with that experience, how to respond to it. My first response was to drive to the ocean and park the car for 24 minutes.

It's amazing what 24 minutes at the ocean can do for you. When I go to bed tonight, I'll see myself on that rock by the ocean, I'll touch the stones of the bracelet, and I'll know that today I lived my life a little bit more fully.

It's Adar: Be Happy, Don't Worry

Two days ago I helped lead a Rosh Chodesh group to welcome in the Jewish month of Adar. Actually, Adar 2. We sometimes get to celebrate the month twice as a way to catch up since our days get a bit off after a while. I don't feel like explaining how that works right now... My mind is too filled with worry, and I know that now, during Adar, I'm supposed to be happy. In fact, during Adar, happiness is supposed to increase.

But my mind says, "NO! It's time to be worried and depressed." Well, I look at my husband, who has been without a job for three months and is worried and depressed, and it's hard for me to be otherwise. I just paid bills when we have no income, and it's hard for me to be otherwise. I look at all the work on my desk and realize how little of what I do brings in any money, and it's hard for me to be otherwise.

"It's Adar," I remind myself. "Don't worry. Be happy." (And the reggae melody begins to play in my head.) So, how can we be happy when life seems to give us good, solid reason to be worried and depressed, disturbed and sad, distressed and melancholy? I try to remember the wisdom of Rebbe Nachman of Bratslov, my Jewish life coach, my human potential teacher, my spiritual mentor.

He said, "Depression does tremendous damage. Use every ploy you can think of to bring yourself joy." He even said to be silly if need be, but I'm not a very silly person. I can, however, focus on the good things that happened to me today. Like the fact that I got another great dancer to sign on to my dance book project. And I was told that I am a maggid, something I didn't know about myself. And that I made contact with someone I want to interview for an article I'd like to write. Focusing on those positive things instead of the negative things in my life make me happy.

Rebbe Nachman also said, "Never despair! Never! It is forbidden to give up hope." I love this morsel of wisdom. Any why should we never give up hope? Because, he said, we must remember: "Things can go from the very worst to the very best...in just the blink of an eye." I always keep that in mind -- or try to. (I didn't do such a good job today.) When I do, I know that tomorrow, my husband could get that call that leads to a new job. The next time I check my e-mail, I could find that I've been contacted by a new editing client. The phone could ring this minute and I could be told that I'm about to receive an advance on a book. You just never know what goodness God is going to flow your way at any given moment.

"You have free will," Rebbe Nachman also taught. "You have the power to escape from the painful discussions and worries of your life and to trust in God, to abandon the struggles of this world and focus instead on spiritual study." It's easy to understand that we have free will, and I'm a big believer in our ability to choose where we focus our thoughts. We can certainly shift our focus from our worries and pain to something more positive by simply choosing to study spiritual texts or to read books that are spiritually uplifting. This places our focus on God. In so doing, we regain our faith in God. We remember that God's hand is in everything. Ein ode milvado. (There is nothing but God.) It's all God -- the good and the bad. Gam zu l'tovah. (This too is for the good.) Even what we perceive as bad is also for the good. We may not know why, but we know it is of God. Focusing on God brings us back to center, gives us our equilibrium once again, allows us to find joy and happiness within our faith.

This brings us full circle to another of Rebbe Nachman wonderful quotes. "Always remember," he said, "Joy is not merely incidental to your spiritual quest. It is vital." Why? Because when we are sad or depressed, we often lose sight of God. My husband loses sight of God -- has lost sight. He has no faith that things will get better at any moment, that God's hand is in the events of his life. He feels lost and alone, and the more depressed he becomes the less of God he sees. When we are joyful, it's so much easier to see God, to feel God, to appreciate God.

So, when Adar comes we must take advantage of the energy of the month...and the second month, too. We are given the opportunity for increased joy, and we must take it even when our lives seem to be giving us good reason to feel quite the opposite. It's hard sometimes; believe, me, I know. But, as the Rebbe would say, “If you don’t feel happy, pretend to be. Even if you are downright depressed, put on a smile. Act happy. Genuine joy will follow." That's right. Fake it 'till you make it. I'm sure gonna give it a try.

What Does Not Living Your Life Fully Cost You?

It’s been over a month since I last blogged. I should be flogged! But I won’t dwell on the negatives of why I haven’t blogged. Suffice it to say, I’ve been busy.

Too busy to write. Too busy to bicycle. Too busy to read. Too busy to relax. Too busy to garden. Too busy to clean my house. Too busy to do yard work. Too busy to do some of what I want to do and some of what I need to do. To busy to live my life the way I’d like to live it.

Which brings me to my point. Last month on my website I began a challenge: The Living Fully Challenge, 12 Months to a Fully Lived Life. The idea behind it is simple: Not living our lives fully costs us something. What is that cost? It’s different for each of us. Some might pay with peace of mind, leaving them with worry and stress. Others might pay with happiness, leaving them sad or depressed. For one person the cost might be health and for another connection; these people end up holding only illness and loneliness when the day is done. For someone else, the cost might be their dreams, leaving them empty and without hope of ever achieving their potential or their desires. No matter the cost, not living our lives fully costs us something. And each day, each moment that we don’t live to the fullest extent represents one more payment we don’t want to make, one more payment for which we can’t ever reimburse ourselves.

I’ve had to really look at this idea very closely not only because I had the bright idea to pose this challenge, which meant I had to write the assignments to go with it (and do them as well), but also because my husband has been out of work for a few months now and my income has been pretty minimal as well. Lack of money always seems to make living life fully a bit problematic. Maybe that’s why the first Living Life Fully assignment I posed involved having fun with finances…

Plus, I don’t ever seem to have the time to do the things I want to do. Lack of time and money are real show stoppers when it comes to doing things you want to do, and it often seems like living fully revolves around doing things we enjoy.

That said, it seems to me that there are some very small ways in which we can begin living our lives fully every day (even with little money or time). The point is to go to bed each night and to be able to acknowledge and feel grateful about at least – at the very least – one thing we’ve done that day that made us feel happy and alive. And we can fit that thing into our busy days and into our work and into our driving kids here and there and into our paying the bills and into our conversations with others. How do we do that? I hope to explore that a bit in my blog over the next 12 months – maybe not in each blog but at least once each month as part of my own challenge.

And as part of living more fully myself, I’m committing to writing my blog more often. Writing makes me feel more alive. Writing represents my life’s purpose. When I write, I am on purpose, enlivened and energized. I want to write more! So, I can live more fully each day by committing to write more – even if it is simply by blogging.

Some small things I know I can do include walking out to my garden to see what’s growing or to pick a flower or pull a weed (or two or three); lighting a candle and incense and putting on music each morning before I begin work; taking even five minutes in the morning to write in my journal and even less in the evening to write down the things for which I’m grateful; reading even a few pages of a book each day; and saying something nice to someone I care about. These don’t sound like they’d contribute much towards living my life fully, but with the little I’ve been doing most recently they’ll make a huge difference, I’m certain.

Here are a few larger things I’m committing to do – maybe not every day but every week – so that I go to bed more often able to acknowledge that I did, indeed, live more fully:
ride my bike or walk with a friend
-- spend time in conversation with God
-- do something I simply want to do
-- communicate honestly
And, I’ll continue taking the time to do the challenge exercises! Who wants to join me?

What’s the point of living if you aren’t living fully? God didn’t place us here on this earth in these bodies to not experience life on this plane to the fullest extent. We are meant to experience all that live has offer and that this physical plane has to offer. (Yes, that means the good and the bad.) We are meant to experience all that we can spiritually and metaphysically as well. We are meant to experience it all!

Even people in wheelchairs and with terminal illnesses can live fully in their own way. I know a woman just about the same age as I am who was recently diagnosed with terminal cancer. I look at her and wonder if she regrets now not having lived her life more fully. I wonder if she is living it to the fullest extent that she can now. We must all approach our lives as if today could be our last, as if this moment could be our last. By that I don’t mean we should focus on the negative, on the possibility of death being around the next corner, but rather that we should focus on doing all the things we want to do now (if we can). We shouldn’t wait.

Now, I’m not necessarily going to choose to get into more debt by taking an expensive vacation that I can’t afford, but I might take a trip to a local park for a walk. I might wear that expensive shirt that has been hanging in my closet waiting for just the right occasion to be worn – but that has only actually been worn once in 10 years (because I haven’t wanted to ruin it). I might actually write that letter to that person I admire and ask for an interview. And I might actually send out that book proposal to that publisher. And I also might talk to my husband about how we can move to the next level in our relationship. And I might actually stop work early today and go for that two-hour bike ride (rather than 30 minutes) I always wish I had time to take.

Those are all things I can do now, this moment. I don’t have to wait. And then I won’t regret not having done them. And I can go to bed knowing I lived a little more fully by doing so.