3rd night
Consider Your Light
Feeling more so than ever how fast time is passing, I have been considering ‘how my light is spent,’ as begins one of my favorite sonnets by John Milton. I am lucky to have an abundance of abundance, sheffa in Hebrew. As grateful as I am, it is very easy to be swept up. I want to visit with every friend, go to every party, read every article, or even ride every horse.
Just like the daylight this time of year, we only have so much light. Our light could be our days on the earth or the hours in the day. Our joy or love energy that we have to share with others is a light. The shining light of our purpose, as I feel brighter when I’m on a path that resonates with me. Light could be our attention or our work.
For those of you who don’t know John Milton, he wrote Paradise Lost, so he is kind of a big deal. This epic poem was written, through dictation, five years after Milton fully lost his sight. This sonnet is Milton's plea, asking god why he would make him, a writer, go blind. Life’s difficulties are what bring many people to seek a concept of god. Life can be devastatingly cruel in moments and loss more often than not feels random and unfair. In these moments I have also questioned how, if there is a god, could he let such a thing happen? We may never know, and if we ever feel we do, it is never so at the time.
Pema Chodron, a buddhist monk, writes “since death is certain but the time of death is uncertain what's the most important thing?” This year I have resolve to spend my light writing essays, poetry, a dog training book and a memoir, creating a beautiful space in my new home to share with my community, growing The Naked Dog, making memories with my loved ones, and doing a few things that scare the shit out of me - just like sharing my innermost thoughts in writing used to.
I also resolve not to spend my light ruminating on annoyances, moments of conflict, or life's frustrations, watching tv or scrolling, making excuses to not exercise, walk my dog, go to the park, or book in time for myself to rest and regenerate (see tomorrow's shabbat post for more on that).
Take a moment to consider how your light is spent. Is your time and energy serving your highest purpose? Meditate. Make a vision board. Pay attention to what brings makes you feel alive. Write out a personal mission statement of what you feel you are here on earth to do. Once you are clear on what matters to you, saying no to what doesn't bring you a step closer becomes a bit easier.
Doing It Right
A lifelong perfectionist, the desire to do it right has paralyzed me in almost all of my affairs. The concept of ‘doing it right’ was a big stumbling block to engaging with Judaism. If I couldn’t say the prayers correctly or practice the rituals exactly the way they had been done throughout history, I didn’t feel I had the right to do it at all. When I talk to some people, especially from an older generation, about my passion for translating the traditions to be applicable to our lives or shifting the rituals to ones we feel we have time to practice I can see them recoil a bit. Am I ruining judaism?
When I juice vegetables, my concoctions are all health and no taste, so I end up not drinking what I made and tucking the juicer away in my cupboard. If I can't do it all the way, I'm not going to do it at all. If my choice is to practice an homage to something beautiful and valuable, a form of a ritual that connects me to a goodness outside of myself and a culture I was born into, a moment of mindfulness in the spirit of how it was traditionally practiced, I can’t imagine a god who would tell me that was evil and I should rather abstain from having any connection at all. That Old Testament god may have, but perhaps in 2020CE we have all, god included, developed more compassion and relaxed our binary conception of right and wrong.
Here you see I have lit three candles. I lit them during the day on the fourth day of Hanukkah. I wanted to light candles for every day of this holiday and I missed yesterday. When I had to chose between holding myself to a standard of perfection or taking the religion and it’s practices into my heart in whatever shape they came, I went with the latter and let the light of self compassion wash over me. It’s okay to not be perfect. I love myself anyway. My best is enough because my intentions are good and I am always striving to be better. The concept I have of a loving god cradles me as I write these words and tells me I’m correct. I wish for everyone a concept of unconditional love that accepts them as they are in this moment as well as holding the possibility for them to grow into all they are capable of being.