Joe is a guy who has often felt eaten up inside.  His grown child cut off ties yet continued to text angry messages through a third party.  Whenever the texts would arrive (and plenty of times when they didn’t), he would tailspin into a consuming misery.

At a certain point, Joe was open to understanding how his feelings work and where they come from.

He learned that his dark feelings can’t actually come from the state of his relationship with his child.

He learned that the presence of those feelings aren’t evidence there’s something wrong with him or his life.   Nor are they a predictor of future misery.
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He learned that he is emotionally healthy now, that health includes flows of darker feelings, and that while he’s not free to turn them off, he doesn’t need to.  That understanding – that he needn’t fight or flee darker feelings – has opened up an even greater sense of freedom. 

Is he satisfied with the state of his current relationship?  No.  Does he enjoy greater feelings of dignity and hope and less entanglement in painful relationship patterns?  Yes.

“Nothing has changed in the circumstances of my relationship,” he recently acknowledged, “yet everything has changed.  I am so grateful.”

​There are times when we encounter a task or relationship and get discouraged.  Maybe we procrastinate.  Maybe we give up.  Chanuka lights the way out of stuck.  How?
 
This is how it looks in my life.  I size up a situation – a challenge one of my kids faces, a work project, the umpteenth effort to fix a leaky radiator – and my mind suggests, “For x, y, z reasons, this is not going to work.  Don’t look there right now.”
 
I don’t want to be stuck, but what can I do.  Simple logic tells me I am. 
 
The Greeks prized human logic and analysis.  They conquered the world and accomplished great feats by asking “What seems logical?”  They were driven to find what is good, what is beauty, what is wisdom – all according to man’s logic and reason.  Anything that didn’t fit was unwelcome. 
 
Then come the Jews whose entire being revolves around a relationship with an unseen force.  To the Greeks, this relationship and the commandments that informed it did not compute.
 
What’s the logic behind Shabbat - down time?  Let me choose when and where I need down time.   And certainly don’t tell me it requires I not turn on light switches.
 
What’s the logic behind circumcision - health?  What if I feel the benefits don’t outweigh the risks?
 
What’s this unseen force?  I see human effort and ingenuity.
 
Relationships, as my wife often reminds me, don’t thrive on logic alone.  Whereas logic alone fills my drive to experience me, a relationship fills my drive to experience connection to something beyond me.  One drive aborts the other. 
 
I am blessed to be married to a special woman with whom I share much and who desires to know me, yet still inhabits a distinct world.  Through logic alone, she will often look unreasonable, unreachable.  While I sometimes enjoy drawing those conclusions (that I’m right and she’s wrong), they prevent my finding her.  Remembering my drive and desire for relationship, I see the limits of my logic, my wife feels closer, and lo and behold my desire for relationship moves me closer to her.
 
There is a real and living Source behind life that wants to know me, but at times seems distant.  Through logic alone, that Source seems unreachable and my life unnavigable.  And here, too, despite the frustration it brings, there is something satisfying about my “rightness” (“see,” I say, “it is miserable”) but I remain alone.  Remembering the limits of analysis, I awaken to a profound desire to connect.  The world feels more hopeful and the Source seems near. 
 
There was nothing purely logical about the Jews going to war.  The Greeks had all the might, organization, weaponry.  But the Jews’ desire to connect reminded them that there is something to connect to.  Both we and our Source desire to connect.  Both a husband and wife desire to connect.  Both a parent and child desire to connect.  We are not alone.  The world is filled with connection when we don’t let our logic and analysis get in the way. 

Many folks labor and struggle with ending bad habits and starting healthy ones – only to give up in despair.  But why bother with all the labor?  Why not just cut straight to the despair? 
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Save time and struggle by embracing my new guide entitled, “Personal Change: 6 Ways to Hit Deep Despair Quickly.”

#1 Hold fast to the idea that normal people change with willpower alone, without Divine blessing.  Conclude that your inability to change must simply mean that you and your willpower are defective. 

#2  Overlook the places in your life where you have experienced change.  If you do recall them, insist it was purely your strength, your intelligence, or luck. 

#3  Grab hard to the belief that your dark feelings are proof there’s something wrong with you.  Dismiss any notion that normal people have difficult moods.  And definitely dismiss the idea that you innocently amplify those moods by judging and resisting them. 

#4  Look for all kinds of causes for your moods and habits among the circumstances of your life.  Once you've identified them, fixate on controlling or escaping them. 

#5  Ignore the fact that you're not always stressed by those circumstances, that your sometimes fine with them.   In other words, do not let evidence of your resilience undermine the simple story that you are messed up.

#6   When difficult feelings come, demand of yourself to change them now.  If unable, recognize your only option is to run to a habit.  Don’t settle for the fake consolation of “being” in the present, of “accepting” your lack of absolute power, of “embracing” Divine contractions.   Nonsense.   Remember:  you cannot be with the pain.  It is too much.  You must disappear it or you will die.

And there you have it: The 6 Steps to Deep Despair.  Good luck!

One of my kids recently asked for access to an online video game in which players design 3-D  game props.  Our policy has been not to allow our kids web or video games.  He assured us this is more about the graphic design.  And he offered to set up tight limits to his daily use, all linked to scholastic achievements and chores.  
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My gut was to say no.  It has been helpful to limit my children’s exposure to these things.  They read.   They play with each other.  They interact. 
 
Still, I was conflicted.  I like to say yes to my kids.  I like to give, to fulfill their requests and see them happy.  He’s such a good boy. 
 
I was uncertain.  I felt pain, and though unaware of it in the moment, I wanted to blame someone or something for this pain. 
 
My son.   If he weren’t so insistent on something I find yucky, I wouldn’t have been in this position.  What’s wrong with him?
Myself. What’s wrong with me that I don’t know if I’m being responsible? Or a control freak?  Or harming the warm bond between us? 
 
I didn’t like it.
 
At some point I remembered a beautiful line from child psychologist Chaim Ginott: “Children act good when they feel good.  So how do you help kids feel good?  Accept what they feel.” 
 
Strong feelings come and go.  A surge of feelings can feel frightening, something either to fight or flee.  Kids’ acting out is their attempt to fight or flee scary feelings.  But when a parent is not inclined to fight or flee his kid’s feelings, the kid isn’t either.  And then the feelings pass.
 
Sometimes a parent needs to parent himself.   My surge of pain can feel like something to fight or flee from:  ‘What’s wrong with him?  What’s wrong with me?” 
 
But I can remember that these feelings are basically safe.  I needn’t react to them.  And then the feelings pass.  The child and the parent ride an updraft and taste the buoyancy of their own spirit.
 
In the end, I told my son no.  I felt his disappointment, I listened, and I expressed sincere regret that he wasn’t getting what he wanted.  Thank God, our relationship moved on.  And I continue to trust in our updraft.
 
Here are some takeaways from this story.
 
#1: You have permission to not know in life.  It’s not a failure.  It’s a sign of competence and humility to acknowledge something’s not clear, to refrain from deciding simply because others want you to.
 
#2: Things we don’t know are a type of deficit.  Deficits are human; they allow us the chance to form a partnership with others, God, or both.  There is nothing more human than that.
 
#3:  Difficult feelings, while painful, are not dangerous.  You get to discover that about your own feelings, and then your loved ones pick it up without you even saying anything. 

Watergen is a phenomenal Israeli machine that extracts water right out of the air and makes it available and safe for drinking.  No spring.  No lengthy pipes.  No schlepping.  It’s like a magic vessel – it receives water that’s already in the air that we otherwise have no access to. 
 
This is a big deal.  Water shortages kill people.  Water shortages cripple communities.  Water shortages start wars.   Imagine.  Wherever people are suffering from lack of water, really the water is right there.  They’re standing in it!  But they have no access to it. 

And now they do – because of a magic vessel.

You and I are like the Watergen.  We are vessels not for water but for the Divine presence.  Like water, the Divine presence is all over (and really helpful), but it’s inaccessible and unusable – without a magic vessel!
  
We learn that we are vessels from God’s portable sanctuary called the Mishkan.   God tells the Jewish people to “make for Me a sanctuary so that I will dwell in them.”  “Them”?   Shouldn’t the verse read, “Make for Me a sanctuary so that I dwell in it”?  Our Sages explain that building the Mishkan is an exercise in self-development.  God’s letting us know that the real dwelling place for the Divine is not the wood and metals of the Mishkan but in us – our very own hearts and minds.

This is a big deal.  Divine presence is everywhere.   Where is there not God’s presence?  Yet for all intents and purposes it remains inaccessible and unhelpful to me and the world without a vessel. 

You and I can be those vessels! 

This is also a really big deal because I for one need the Divine presence in my life.  I cannot think of a single, greater variable in my success than the wisdom, creativity, and love that comes with the Divine presence showing up in my heart and mind. 

Having a nice, warm conversation with my wife?  Good ideas and techniques are nice.  Without the blessing of Divine presence to make use of them, I’ll botch that conversation every time.

Giving my children love and gentle boundaries?  Ditto.

Finding a solution to internal or external conflict?  Ditto.

Writing an effective blog?  Again, ditto.

We become this magic vessel through a few steps. 

First, we acknowledge that we are vessels, not creators.  Watergen doesn’t create water.  Its genius lies in its recognition of and capacity to receive what’s already there. 
 
Second, we seek to receive. 

Last night I spoke with one of my kids about the many conflicts he’s having with siblings. 

“Why do you keep raising this?” said my child, exasperated.  “If you don’t like the way I am, talk to God.  He made me this way.” 
It was a moment I felt love in my heart.

“True,” I acknowledged, “but you are His partner.  You are responsible to contribute to peace.  You must say, ‘God, I can’t do this but I want to.  And You have the understanding I need.  Please – give me the thoughts and feelings to be peaceful.’  Are you saying that to God?” I asked.
“No,” he acknowledged.  He was quiet for a moment.  Then he smiled.  For a moment he glimpsed that he is a magic vessel.

​I used to think my emotional distress or anxiety was real in the way a toddler thinks a shadow is real.  The toddler thinks the shadow is something to fear and run from – it’s alive, it moves, it’s something of this world no less real than he is.  And try as he might, he can’t shake it.  Of course he’s terrified of the shadow.  

Let me be clear – I don’t mean to belittle or dismiss the toddler’s fear.  He is not making up his perception.  He sees a real shape on the ground that pursues him.  He just misunderstands the truth about that shape.  The truth is that he needn’t run.  The truth is that nothing needs to change for him to be safe right now.  

Similarly, when I used to feel sensations of pain, fear, or shame, I used to think they were real in the sense that they indicated real and threatening things in my life.  How else to explain my feeling threatened if not for there being something threatening – to run from, battle, or control?  (Note: I’m not saying there’s no such thing as damaging behavior to protect one’s self from.)

Like the shadows, I still see and perceive pain.  I’m not imagining the feelings.  But I now know something about them I didn’t know before.  I’m less inclined to run or battle or control them.  I’m super grateful for this.

And I see that as tangible as our perceptions are, like all toddlers we, too, are prone to misunderstanding them.  There is no lecture or imparting of information to offer a toddler who’s gripped by fear of his own shadow.  There is love, acceptance, and deep trust that as real and painful as his fear is, he is safe right now.   This will aid him to see a deeper truth sooner than later.  

If you had a car with dual controls – steering wheels and pedals at both front seats – it could be a very helpful  advantage over single control driving.  If one driver is tired, can’t see, or can’t concentrate so well, he’s got someone to cover.
 
On the other hand, imagine if the second driver forgot about the very existence of the first.  He would likely interfere with or even negate the skilled driving of the first.  What a disaster.

This came to mind as I considered the wisdom inside each of us.

On the one hand, there’s something like the healing of a wound.  It’s basically a single steering wheel job.  I can do things to support or hinder the process, but I’m not directing coagulants, skin cells, blood flow, etc.  I’m not driving.  That’s all God.  It’s mind boggling how myriads of systems are choreographed with wisdom toward tangible healing.  I am SO grateful I don’t have any share in the driving on that task.  Can you imagine?

Then there’s my inner world – my internal experiences of warm and peaceful, idealistic and driven, fearful and tense, jealous and hurt.  To me that’s more dual steering.  God is the source of all thought.  He’s the source of my consciousness, that which allows me to feel my thought.  He’s sourcing everything.  So He’s obviously a driver. 

On the other hand, I’m also a driver.   I feel thoughts, prefer some, focus on, resist and protest others.  I have the ability to intervene. 
So now, what happens if I don’t know there’s another driver?  I am going to interfere with and negate His driving!  Gevalt.

It seems to me we do that all the time.  Yes, God gave us a steering wheel in navigating our inner world.  Our choice to focus and understand, to listen and pause, to act or step back are all essential uses of the gift of our steering.  On the other hand, part of driving includes remembering we’re not the sole driver.

To me, insecure, fearful, and jealous experiences are like times of reduced visibility.  They literally remind of the presence of the other driver.  God is driving me through certain thought terrain where I can’t see so well.  All human beings drive through these thoughts.  There’s something to be had in them, or else He wouldn’t drive us through them.  But trying to drive off the road to get elsewhere doesn’t go well; it messes up the Driver’s work.   When the road loses its visibility, it’s a good reminder there’s another driver; it’s a good cue to ease off the wheel.

This has been such a helpful understanding to me.  Please join me this at this Thursday's teleconference, 10am, to learn more about this metaphor and what it points to.