As Rabbi Zev Reichman writes in Path to the Tree of Life, on the first Rosh Hashana of creation, the Creator blew the breath of life into Adam and Chava.  On our Rosh Hashana we give it back by blowing shofar.  “Thank You, God, for my neshama (soul/breath); here it is, right back at You!”

Electricians might refer to this as closing a circuit, so to speak.   Whereas in an open circuit a power source connects to a light but doesn’t double back, a closed circuit returns to the source.  The difference:  closed circuit = uninterrupted flow of power, light bulbs going on, connection.  

God, the power source, is always reaching us, animating us, powering our cells and consciousness with Divine thought; there is no other power source.  

Question:  If God the power source is always reaching us, what accounts for our feelings of confusion, stress, anger, etc?  

Answer: God the power source. 

As the sole supplier of all reality, including the energy that animates our consciousness, He's the source of our psychological experience - warm fuzzy and cold confused.  The question is do we close the circuit of the flow or not.

When we hang our experience on things and circumstances of this world – as opposed to the One Source - we fail to close the circuit.  When we attribute our experience back to the One Source, we close it.

This is to say that feeling warm and happy and clear minded is not inherently a sign of connection (i.e. good) nor that feeling lost demonstrates disconnect (i.e. bad).  God can send us happy, peaceful thoughts  and we think they come from our salary raise or vacation.  That’s an open, non-flowing circuit.  It feels nice in the moment but a) it’s a misunderstanding of reality and b) we won’t know where to look when it runs out.

Alternatively, God can send us distress and we acknowledge it as from Him.  That’s a powerful, closed circuit.  King David said, “From the narrow places I call to You.”  It was obvious to David to call to God in his distress.   Where else were the narrow places coming from but Him?   

In short, real connection is not evidenced by feeling the way you want to feel.  It’s about living in reality.  It’s about sourcing your experience in its true source; being a truth seeker rather than a feeling seeker. 

God will flow what He’ll flow; some of it will feel this way, some will feel that way.  You will do your best with the understanding you have to make choices, be proactive, live your life.   Sometimes you will remember this; sometimes you will forget.  God rigged the system to support remembering.  As you remember, your innate preference for connection will guide you and the body of work called your life will get richer, softer, deeper.

This is the essence of my second takeaway in the What Drives Change? Series:  I don’t know how to manufacture – on command – divine understanding showing up in my words and actions.  On the other hand, I see that the divine doesn’t have a problem finding me.  And it's a great Yom Kippur segue.

On Yom Kippur we return (tshuva).  The Source is on our side.  Double back to the Source.  

My first takeaway about what drives change from watching my friend (see Part I to this blog HERE) is about how change does NOT happen – and that’s getting someone to change.

It’s what we call an outside in approach: marshalling sufficient logic, eloquence, or pressure through circumstances or words that schlep the changee to a new place.  The alternative would be the inside out approach. 

There’s a space within us that already resides in clarity, certainty, and confidence – an inner knowing.  Real and healthy change happens through a person touching that.  That inner knowing is what gives us the calm to be open to something new and the security to act on it.  

When not touching that knowing place, we’re a jumble of thoughts without a center.  Our mind is a restless, whirring computer seeking security through analysis of options and data that by design cannot reassure us.   

In the presence of our own inner knowing, we settle down.  We feel we have a home base, a sense of security.  Options and choices come into focus and we can move forward.

This understanding became clearer to me after failing umpteen times to change my big kids’ angry reactions to a younger sibling.

I tried annoyed logic.

“He’s eight; you’re teenagers.  Do you really need to respond to everything he says?”

I tried guilt.

“Do you realize how difficult this is for Mommy?”

I tried sarcastic disappointment.

“I’m sorry you feel so threatened by his words.”

Our conversations led to more frustration and annoyance.  

Then I saw it: my efforts weren’t helping.  

It’s not that I didn’t know that or that my wife hadn’t offered that assessment (gently) to me.  Colored by my insecure perception that I needed my kids to behave certain ways to feel okay, I just couldn’t refrain from trying to change them.  While they battled the unjust circumstance of their sibling, I battled the unjust circumstance of their upset.  Somehow, though, I shifted.  

I understood that they just didn’t know how to let go and my pressure wouldn’t help.   It’s like when you’re trying to loosen a jar lid and then notice you’re twisting the wrong direction.  It doesn’t feel like a struggle to stop.  You just see the illogic of it and let go.  

Once I did let go, I was curious: if force isn’t helping, what could?  The next day I asked one of them if I could speak to him:  how does he see this conflict?

I felt gentle, nonjudgmental, truly curious.  I listened.  Where it occurred to me, I asked if I could share a thought, and I listened to see if he was actually interested.  This process has born fruits.  I have more respect for their struggles; they feel less defensive.  They’re softening.  

Looking back, I see the first step was in seeing the futility of getting them to change.  Once I was divested of that campaign, it wasn’t long before new ideas showed up.  This is not to say I don’t revisit the “kids as circumstances needing to be changed” outlook.  And then I resume pushing and shoving them.  But then I recover and seek out rapport again.  More and more, my goal with my kids is seeking out gentle conversations: “How’s it going?  How can I be of help?”

It’s a very natural thing for a parent to want to give and a child to receive – if the agenda is about helping and not changing.  

The good news is we can’t really change people; we might as well look to help. 

Takeaway 2 about what drives change: I don’t know how to manufacture – on command – divine understanding showing up in my words and actions.  On the other hand, I see that the divine doesn’t have a problem finding me.  That’s true for all of us.  More on that later.

“Hey,” my friend called me recently, “I owe you a thanks for the solar panels I installed.  They’re great.”

Years ago I had seen an ad, did some homework, and opted to install panels.  After the fact, I learned that I could earn money through referrals.  I told a bunch of people, including this friend, but my efforts yielded not one bite.

“What took so long?” I asked.

Apparently, a year after I had made my pitch he saw an ad, got a quote, and then forwarded it to me for input.  “Better than the deal I got,” I wrote back.  “Grab it.” 

“That’s when I decided,” he said.  “I actually wanted you to get the referral, but when I saw you recommended a different company, it just clicked.”

It wasn’t such a heroic act on my part (what was I going to do, lie?).  It wasn’t a particularly new idea – people respond to selflessness more than self-interest.  Still, it touched me to see his shift.  We had discussed the merits of solar a number of times and he could not move; then in one interaction he opened.  

I thought about this event a bit.  We’re all looking to make shifts in life or (or help others do the same).  Healthier eating.  Less anxiety.  More devotion.  Less anger.  What allowed my friend’s shift?  

Here are three of my takeaways.  

a) Eloquence, logic, pushing doesn’t necessarily drive change.  Being in the presence of something divine does.  In this case, I was a vehicle for that presence.  My friend felt truth, generosity, clarity in my actions and it got his attention.
   
b) I don’t know how to manufacture – on command – the divine showing up in my words and actions.  On the other hand, I see that the divine doesn’t have a problem finding its way to my words and actions.  That’s true for all of us.

c) We owe it to ourselves and others to invest in learning how to be a channel for the divine.

In honor of the beautiful season of change we find ourselves in, I will be sharing more about each of the three takeaways over the next few weeks.  Look for them in your inbox.

Wishing you blessings for a Good, Sweet New Year.

​Passover’s opportunity is freedom.  Sukkos’ is joy.  The 9th of Av’s is fragmentation and disconnect.  What does that mean and why is that an opportunity?

Fragmentation is the very human tendency of feeling separate, alone, other.  As human beings prone to moods and insecure thought, we fall into a sense of disconnect - from the warmth of our loved ones, from the love of our Creator, from the wisdom that resides inside our own soul.   In a fragmented, disconnected state, conflict and alienation feel so normal.  Hence the root of the Hebrew word for dispute - “machlokes” – is “chelek,” or fragment. 

Our Sages teach that while it’s always possible to get lost in a fragmented worldview, it’s in this time of year that we are most susceptible to the test.  Hence the spies’ 9th of Av report about Israel that induced national hysteria and disconnect from our very own home.  Hence the destruction – twice – on this day of our Temple, the connection between heaven and earth and source of wholeness in the world.   Hence the trigger event on this day in 1914 - the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand - responsible for decades of world war and conflagration.  (As an aside, rates of violent crime always peak in summer.) 

Yet our Sages also point out that the messiah will be born on this day.  The 9th of Av is called a "moed" in Hebrew, a holiday or literally a meeting in time with God.  There’s tremendous opportunity on this day of fragmentation.  I’d like to highlight this opportunity with a story.

After Rabbi Shaul Rosenblatt’s moving introduction to the principles of Innate Health, he immediately attempted to share his experience with his wife, Chana. She wasn’t interested.  Life was good and she didn’t need “principles,” much less those of folks whose wellbeing seemed to come primarily from having no kids at home and a house on a lake.

Over time, Chana’s experience grew more complicated.  Life got busier, some of her kids became challenging teens, and she found herself feeling overwhelmed and agitated.

Her sense of upset reached a climax one day when she walked to her husband’s office and proceeded to tell him hateful things.  The moment she said them, she knew she didn’t mean them.  Returning home, she described feeling like a little girl lost in an ocean, unable to do life.   The sense of disconnect - from her husband, from God, from her own wisdom - was profound.   From her fragmented state, she had no idea how to fix any of it.

And then she described her husband walking in two minutes later.  He reassured her,  “It’s going to be okay.  We’re going to work this out."

She was shocked.  Where was his outrage?  Where was his return fire?  Not only wasn’t he furious, he was moved by her pain.  The feeling of her smallness coupled with the hope of his expansiveness moved her.   He met her disconnect not with more disconnect, but with compassion and understanding. "I'm hurting with you."  It stopped her in her tracks.  She saw hope, the possibility of connection.

This is the 9th of Av.   We look around, we see our dysfunction.  We often blame -  our fellow, our God, ourselves - and just get more dysfunction.
Or we can sense the message of the day: it's our own small thinking that leaves us so lost.     

And then we learn that God is not blaming us, He's crying with us.   "My soul will weep in secrecy for your [lost] pride,"  God says (Jeremiah 13: 17).  The Maharal explains that God's "secret place" is nothing other than the soul of a Jew, the "piece of God" so to speak that resides in each of us.   Our pain on this day is literally God's own.  Like the wife confronted by her husband's compassion, she finds hope, not more recrimination.  The 9th of Av, while a day of mourning, is truly a "moed" - a meeting place in time with God - in which He wishes to connect with us over the pain of our own fragmented state.  In that connection, hope is born. 

May we merit this 9th of Av to understand the healing power of our disconnected state.  May we tire of our own unhelpful thinking and yearn for the gift of His healing, expansive outlook.