Our Sages say that humility is the mother of all good character. 

Humility allows us to see reality free from the haze of self-absorption; to be connected to and of help to others; to devote ourselves to good, undeterred by self-doubt or public opinion; to be with G-d, the source of all, in this moment. 

It’s worth taking a moment to contemplate Rashi’s definition of humility (in reference to Moshe, Numbers 12:3): shafel v’savlan – “low in spirit and long-enduring.”  I’d like to focus specifically on savlan – “long-enduring.”

Savlan is related to savlanut – in modern Hebrew “patience.”  But our Sages point out that the root of savlan means “to bear,” as in to carry a load.  The image is of one carrying a precious package on a journey.  At some point he wearies.  The package is heavy. 

“Is it really necessary to schlep this thing?” he says to himself.  “It hurts.  I resent it.   I’ll chuck it away.”

This is the test of a savlan. In any relationship – with G-d, with a spouse, with a child, with one’s self – there are aspects of our experience that feel burdensome. 

“Why is G-d, my spouse, my child, myself doing this?  I don’t like it, I want it to change, it won’t, I’m done.”

Being done bearing the burden means chucking the relationship: giving up, blowing up, withdrawing, escaping, acting out.  It’s so human and normal to want to relieve one’s self of what seems like unnecessary burden.  How do we keep carrying the load?

To me, the first step is understanding that “burdens” can’t weigh on us directly.  The heat, the kids’ fighting, the spouse’s disagreeableness, my own shortcomings – they cannot cause burdensomeness by themselves.  They can’t source our experience. 

It’s only G-d who sources our experience through the gift of thought in this moment.  And He tells us in advance that He sources the gift of thought and renews it moment to moment – both expansive and constricted.  Yes, there are inappropriate behaviors.  But those behaviors feel burdensome solely and only inside the flow of Divine thought that He endows us with moment to moment to moment.  To me, this is hopeful.

Not hopeful in that I will be able to now “change” my experience.  Hopeful in that I don’t need to. 

In truth, no “amount of” or “skill with” this understanding can directly change our experience.  Not even our talking about, reading about, or listening to this description of how our experience is shaped can alter how the gift of thought shows up from G-d.  I can know about how the experience of “burdens” work and yet still desire to chuck them.  This understanding, to the best I grasp it, is not a technique or tool.

 To me, it’s simply the truth that all there is is me and G-d.
 
A person might ask, “Well, I’ve been learning about this understanding for months or years, and though I’ve seen some very nice things, I still regularly feel like chucking the burden of me, my child, etc. [author’s note: my hand goes up here].  So how is this helpful?”

Truth is always helpful. 

And when one considers that G-d likens our growth to giving birth (“a righteous person’s primary children are his good deeds” Breishis Rabah, 30:6), we can take comfort.  The “burdens” of our life are temporary, divinely induced contractions. There is nowhere else to be in the burden of a contraction than in the contraction: knowing it’s from G-d, knowing I can’t nor need change it; knowing it’s human; knowing it’s worth it; knowing it’s nothing more nor less than my unique mission of bringing new life to this world.  

And no amount of understanding, skill, or prior births enable one to prevent contractions in bringing forth new babies.  But we know: people give birth all the time.  There’s pain, there’s a new baby, and we move forward with gratitude for the awesome experience, without need to revisit or solve the “trauma.” 
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One more thought: if this doesn’t feel helpful or hopeful, tune it out.  G-d has so many ways to bring us help and encouragement.  I have no authoritative claim that this message is necessary or right for you.  As King David says, “G-d is close to all those who call Him, to all those who call Him with sincerity.”  Not my teachings, nor my ideas.  Sincere turning to Him because after all, it’s just me and Him.

It is both common sense and Jewish wisdom that we have pleasure in being of help to our loved ones: our spouse, our kids, our friends.  There is tremendous satisfaction and holiness in benefitting others. 
 
The challenge for me is when my liking to help loved ones crosses over into needing to help them.
 
“It’s a problem that you’re not different.  You need to change.”  Even if I don’t say this aloud, the sentiment in my heart speaks for itself. 
 
This can frighten loved ones to the point they withdraw and view my influence and even presence as something to avoid.  This can in turn add to my frustration and thus zeal to influence change.  And the cycle goes on.
 
I have fallen into this many, many times.   I assume I will in the future.  I am seeing more clearly that there is a logic behind this judgment and I am seeing more clearly that it’s false.
 
The logic is that my experience somehow derives from others.  My wife’s happiness holds the key to my wellbeing.  My child’s well-adjusted ways directly influence my equilibrium.  Inside that logic, every person with a self-preservation instinct will feel compelled to change their spouse or kid.   This is understandable, it’s human, and in addition to being false, will generally lead to struggle and upset.
 
The alternative to that logic goes something like this: each of us lives our lives in the state of mind, the emotional experience, and the understanding we are gifted with in this moment.  We do our best with the understanding we have.
 
Seeing this, I have less concern that my experience is at the mercy of those around me.  I become untangled from loved ones.  They’re free to do their best (or struggle) and so am I.  With less concern for or need to manage my experience, I see the illogic of changing theirs.  I can just be with them.  Changes and results in general start to fall away as the focus of my goals and my true job comes sharply into view. 
 
My job starts with the simple task of seeing what's true - that the source of my emotional experience arises from one place and one place only - the gift of thought that the Al-mighty makes available to me now.  This is clarity. 
 
This is also emunah (“belief” in Hebrew).  It's not for naught that our Sages say that one who lives with this understanding "resides in the City of Refuge," free from the confusion and inner chaos that accompanies the falseness of an ego-guided perspective.
 
Emunah clarity is not defined by an emotional state per se - not calm, nor loving warmth, nor any other positive emotion.  It's knowing that whatever emotional experience I find myself in comes from within me through the gift of Divine thought in this moment.  Aside from this being a mitzvah and a wonderful accomplishment, I find this allows me greater choice. 
 
Choice to remember what is true about my and others’ psychological experience and avoid codependence.
 
Choice to ask God for a heart and mind that are clear, for help to see that I am free of dependency on loved ones’ actions or feelings, that I can be a safe space and resource for them on their journey unconditionally.
 
Choice to say thank you to God and stand in mind-boggling gratitude when I experience that help. 
 
Choice to see when my vision is impaired, when my mind feels flooded with anger and blame and other trappings of the logic of ego-based thought (which, by the way, also comes from God in this moment) and thereby step away. 
 
Or perhaps choice after failing to step away – to appreciate how human it is to become confused, to accept responsibility and express regret for hurtful words or actions, and to affirm my commitment to be helpful and loving.
 
As best as I can tell in this moment, this is the journey God has placed us on.  It’s a journey of standing in His presence – loving, all-encompassing, always, at all times, no matter what unfolds around or within us. 
 
How fortunate are we to know even a little bit about it.  I have no words to adequately convey my gratitude for the gift of this opportunity.

One of the simplest and most impactful ways to deal with stress is simply to understand that though we have stress, it doesn’t define us.  Consider the story of the Red Sea.  

With the Egyptians hot on their trail, the Jewish people run up against a body of water with nowhere to go.  They despair.

“Moshe, were there no graves in Egypt that you took us to die in the desert?” It’s black, there’s no hope, the whole Exodus was pointless!

Four verses later, Moshe is praying desperately when God says, “Enough, Moshe.  All they have to do is jump in.”  According to the Medrash, God was saying, “You don’t need to pray, Moshe.  These Jews are big believers.  They trust in Me, they left Egypt to follow Me.  In the merit of their trust, the sea will split.”  

Huh?  Literally a few moments beforehand, they’re sunk in despair, regretting their whole relationship with God.  Now God testifies, “Ah!  My children – such believers, worthy of miracles!”  Are they believers or not?  Is their temper tantrum really nothing?

Yes, says the Talmud.  “Ain adam nitfas b’shaas tzaaro” – “a person isn’t defined by his times of personal emergency.”  Normal people fall into temporary bouts of crisis-thinking and insanity.  God knows we aren’t our emergency thinking.  

Do we?

The more a person understands this –  that we have emergency thinking but we aren’t defined by it –  the less sticky it is, the more it cycles through.  Our personal thought quiets down.  By not overreacting to our crisis state we cling to it less and our natural, default connection to G-d remains more accessible.  

Perhaps this is what King Solomon meant when he said, “God made people straight; they sought calculations.”

And perhaps this is what we refer to when high level athletes, performers, and business people are “in the zone.”  It’s an understanding that allows them to encounter breakdowns without becoming derailed.  Rather than panic, they persist with humility and trusting resolve, knowing their connection to God’s wisdom will lead to a righting of the ship.   

I don’t know how to turn my emergency thinking off like a switch, but I have seen there is an understanding that helps me to be more permeable to wisdom.  God’s advice would seem to run something like this:  See your tendency to lose perspective not as something personal but as part of the human experience.  I provide everyone with both constricted  and expansive thoughts at times. When worry and fearful thoughts buffet you, don’t run after them; stay put.   In moments of calm, stay grateful.  Whatever it looks like, stay in this moment, the only place connection to Me ever happens.

The Talmud states that when God wanted to make a name for Himself in His world, the story of Purim was His answer (Megillah, 10b).  Question: how can the Book of Esther be the place God makes a name for Himself – it’s the one book in the Torah in which God’s name never appears?  

Rabbi Akiva Tatz points out another question.  Purim is a celebration of miracles.  The Hebrew word for miracle, nes, actually forms part of the word for test: nisayon; it would seem they’re inextricably linked.  Asks Rabbi Tatz:  if a test requires a miracle, that’s not a fair test.  If passing a test assumes a miracle, in what way is it a real test?

I’d like to take a moment to suggest an answer to these questions and then speak briefly about our beloved bar mitzvah, Yehuda, and our blessings to him on this special occasion.

One way of understanding a test is simply the experience of being stuck:  the Jews facing recapture at the Sea of Reeds or destruction in ancient Persia.  Of course individuals undergo tests, too.   Someone with a highly critical boss, really annoying siblings, or discouraging personal failings.

A test is being in a painful place with no apparent exit.  

This is where miracles come in, but not in the way we’d expect.  The test looks like puzzle pieces that can’t fit, so that a miracle involves somehow changing the pieces.  Really, the test is not in the pieces; it’s in our way of seeing the pieces.  The opportunity of a test is when a person senses he needs new eyes.  

The Talmud says that a person never does destructive things unless “visited by a spirit of insanity.”  It’s been said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results.  When we see that our way of seeing is not working, we have the opportunity to humbly ask God for new eyes.  

And then God can answer us.  Suddenly, the boss looks more well meaning, just a bit insecure.  The siblings don’t seem as annoying.  A person softens toward his own failings and sees progress.  

How did it happen?  Did he switch on a switch?  

New understanding showed up in the heart of the person being tested.  Divine wisdom humbled him, broadened his outlook.  God showed up in the heart, mind, and actions of the one being tested. 
 
This is the connection between a nisayon (test) and a nes (miracle): getting stuck comes when we crowd God out of our perspective; the miraculous solution is letting Him back in. 
 
And this is how God makes a name for Himself without His name even being mentioned.  He shows up in the heart, mind, and actions of His people.  Through tests, He reminds us of the inadequacy of our personal worldview and invites us to be vehicles through which His loving wisdom can come into the world.   It’s not God announcing Himself from the mountain top, but the one tested can see: I didn’t raise myself up; I know where this miracle comes from.
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Yehuda, here’s where I speak a little about you.  I know you don’t necessarily like this; consider it one of your divine tests.

Mommy and I have watched as you worked towards this day.  There were many difficulties in undertaking all the ambitious preparations.  You spent many, many hours doing things you’ve never done before, all the while dealing with siblings, school and a demanding father.  There were many frustrating moments.  You persisted many times.  And today you are a different person.  You do things that were beyond you even six months ago.  How did that happen?  Hashem has helped you. With your trust and persistence, you let Him.
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Our blessing to you is that you continue persisting.  Continue to let Hashem make you a vehicle for His goodness - through your good heart, words and actions.  Continue to see your tests as a way for God to show up – through you – to make a name for Himself in this world.  

I don't think I've ever followed college football, but I tuned into this week's national championship game between Alabama and Georgia.  It was a thriller won on the last play by a freshman quarterback whose post-game interview was even more moving than his on field heroics.  Here’s how it unfolded.

Alabama freshman quarterback Tua Tagovailoa committed a dunce move (commentators' words) one play before throwing the winning touchdown.   

Behind three points in overtime of a game for all the marbles, Alabama was well within field goal range for a tie with still time to go for a touchdown and the win.  But after snapping the ball and not finding an open receiver, Tua failed to toss the ball away and got sacked for a huge loss.  With one play left, his team was now possibly out of field goal range for even a tie.  Then, the very next play, he nailed an extraordinary touchdown throw to end the game and win the national championship.  

It was an electric sports moment.  And it piqued my curiosity.  

I regularly commit dunce moves and then feel drawn in by the blame, guilt, and recriminations that seem to follow.  “I should have; he should have; when will I learn?”  To me, it often feels like dunce moves carry a busy, unhelpful mind in their wake.  There was no way Tua made that throw in that moment on that stage while stewing in dunce thinking.  How did he bounce back and move on? 

His on field interview shed light on his obvious resilience.

Q: “What were you saying before you took the field [on that last possession]?”
A: “I mean, I didn’t say anything.  It was just going back in, just take it a play at a time.”

Resilience involves living in this moment – not processing the past or worrying about the future.  The obvious question is: how does one do that?

Q: “Now that you’re a national champion, describe what it means to you in this moment.”
A: “At this moment, it means the world.  But at the same time, all glory goes to God.  I can’t describe what He’s done for me and my family.  Who would have ever thought I’d be here now?”   

In other words, “It looks like I ran well, viewed the field well, selected the target well, and threw well, but that’s a mistake.  I have no power to do any of that.  I try, He does what He wants with me in the moment, and we won.”  

Now listen to the flip side of what Tua is saying: “I try, He does what He wants with me in the moment, and sometimes we lose.  I don’t take it personally when I win; I don’t take it personally when I lose.  I just show up and try, one play at a time.”  He blows it and isn’t crushed; then nails it and isn’t arrogant. 

You want resilience?  Don’t ascribe your performance or experience of life to you, your power, your past, or anything other than what God is making available to you in this moment.  Wins and losses, all glory goes to God.

In recent teaching experiences, I've had several participants challenge my emphasis on seeing the inside out nature of our experience.  "Aren't you overlooking valuable information in the world out there?" 

Here's a brief summary of the question followed by my response. 

"You emphasize how essential it is to know that God is the source of everything, even our internal experience.  Still, we live in a world where things happen, things we're meant to observe and respond to.  If my child is having chronic anxiety or I'm receiving consistent negative reviews at work, is it enough to focus on the truth that my experience moment to moment is coming from God?  What about asking myself what God wants me to learn and do in the face of these challenges?  They're also from God." 

These are excellent questions.  And an opportunity to clarify the message I hope to share with others.

Of course we live in a world that requires us to be attentive and responsive.  The challenge is seeing that the "world" we live in is in fact simply the world that God shows us moment to moment through the gift of new thought.  Through understanding that truth I will have new perspective, wisdom, and choice to learn and do in the world.  

Here's an analogy you've likely heard before, with a slight twist.

Imagine you're responsible to teach someone how to sail across the ocean.  You're out on the boat explaining the basics.   You notice your student is agitated.

"You seem distressed.  Everything ok?" you ask.

"What do you mean, 'distressed'? I have a long trip and I need to master sailing in case I reach the edge of the earth unexpectedly."

"Oh," you respond.  "You needn't worry about falling off the edge.  The world is round."

"Look, I hired you to teach me how to sail, not to share your theories about the earth.  Can we get to the skills I need to know?"

You could continue to help him learn and do the craft of sailing.  But it will be learning filtered through tremendous misunderstanding and the extreme distress it spawns.  

Similarly, tuning in to my child's struggles or my own poor work performances without appreciating God-in-the-moment is building on a false premise.  I will source my child's anxiety in circumstances - her chemistry, her classroom, her upbringing - and then undertake to manage and change them.   

It's not that there aren't skills to know and do regarding chemical imbalances, classroom environment, parenting etc.  It's just that they don't have power, they cannot be the source of any experience.  There is only one Source - moment to moment to moment.  That Source makes known to us - often despite our misunderstanding - how to learn from and respond to the life we find ourselves in.  Acknowledging and attuning ourselves to that truth only raises our game and our ability to do.

As King Solomon said, "The beginning of all wisdom is understanding the Source" (Mishlei, 9:10).

Every day I’m reminded – from watching myself, listening to clients, refereeing my kids – just how much we desire control.  Here are some samples.

At times it seems threatening to me that my wife feel stressed and anxious.  I employ various efforts to get her away from there – carrots, sticks, logic.

A man recovering from surgery and chemo feels anxiety about his exhaustion and lack of concentration.  He pushes and shoves himself to “get it together already.”

My son finds his sister’s practicing her class songs annoying.  He complains, insults, and sometimes resorts to force to regain quiet. 

The goal of control is based on a certain logic:  that circumstances have the power to cause our experience.   Said another way:  we seem to feel what we feel because some thing or event is pressing on us: my wife’s mood, the chemo patient’s lack of performance, my son’s distaste for his sister’s singing. Inside that logic, it just looks like a good idea to try to manage myself and the world around me, to worry about what might be, to leverage internal and external pressures to make things go the way I need.   

It’s a flawed logic, and an exhausting, fool’s errand.  

The actual source of our experience is what God is making known to us – right now.  Sometimes He constricts our vision – much the way He placed us in Egypt.  Sometimes He releases our bonds.   When we understand that, we don’t objectify (aka worship) the circumstances of our life as source.  Hence, it looks less compelling to control them.  We don’t camp out in constriction.  We’re open to God’s loving guidance.

Perhaps this is what God is showing Avraham when he tells him to “go…to the place I will show you” (Gen. 12:1) without telling him where.  
Live and go where I’m showing you, G-d tells him.  You might have thoughts or concerns beyond that.  You might be interested in Step 100.  Right now you’re on Step 1, or 5, or 17.  Exerting yourself to anticipate or manage Step 100 leaves precious little consciousness to take advantage of what I’m showing you here.   

This is not advice to not think about Step 100.  It’s just an understanding that when your mind worries about Step 100 (because we are human, after all), it’s not really telling you much about Step 100.  It’s telling you about the constricted view in the step you presently occupy.   Let it be; not knowing more than God shows us, and the discomfort we associate with it, is very much part of our journey.  
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We are all on a journey to the place He will show us.  He’s an expert guide.  

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.