Looking into the Darkness

Darkness

As we enter December and near the shortest day of the year, we often find ourselves longing for light. The beauty of the candles in the Menorah, the twinkling of the stars in the cold, clear sky  are inspiring, calming and can bring great hope for what is to come. How wonderful these can be when our days begin and end in darkness! This year, I wonder if it is not helpful to also appreciate the darkness.  Perhaps the night that surrounds the candles we light can be just as important as the light itself.

This time where little grows is important to what is come. The bulbs that need a hard frost to bloom are getting just what they need in the darkness of the ground and the darkness of the days. In some ways, we too need this time. No life is without some darkness. Sometimes that darkness is a shadow of sadness or loss that is difficult to endure. Sometimes it is the absence of the light of hope. And while we could do without these, they are a part of the fabric of life. But at other times that darkness is the peace of night after a hard day’s work, or a shadow cast over us on an intensely hot and sunny day. What appreciation we can have for that shadow! I find myself wondering this year, what we might discover if we take a moment to appreciate the dark. Sitting in this time and space, focusing our eyes on the darkness rather than searching out the things we see with light, will darkness cease to be a blanket, a monochromatic field? Will it shift to greys, blues, purples? Perhaps we will begin to sense not with our eyes, but more clearly with our other senses. What room there may be for internal calm and peace? What space might be found for dreams and inspiration?  The darkness may begin to represent a blank slate, the moment before an act of creation. In this time and space, we may find the potential for something as yet unimagined.

This is not to suggest we embrace depression or sadness as the good we strive for, but simply allow room for the darkness that is good- the night that lets us rest, the relief from all the noise and lights that surround us in our daily life.  If we can learn to appreciate the goodness that we find in the darkness, we might find ourselves refreshed and better able to appreciate the beauty that is the light.

If you find yourself struggling with a difficult darkness, either internal or external, please know that I am here to assist you in finding whatever help you may need.

Reconnecting with Our True Selves

 

This month, as I work on a topic for the blog, I keep returning to a colleague's article about renewing our relationship with authentic selves. In the end, I've decided to re-print it. (With her permission, of course!) 

Kudos to Tara Watkins, LICSW, for such a well written piece. And thank you for this call to personal reflection!

 

Reconnecting With Our True Selves

written by Tara Watkins, LICSW

It’s that time of year again, time to recall the year that has passed, reflect on how we have lived, and think about the traits we would like to exemplify more in the year ahead. 

In reflecting on this, I came across a wonderful legend that illustrates the importance of aligning our inner and outer selves. The story goes that a revered eighteenth century rabbi-Rabbi Meshulam Zusya- was on his death bed. His students gathered around him astonished and dismayed to find him weeping. They asked their learned and beloved teacher why he was crying- might he be crying because he had not been a visionary pioneer like Abraham? He answered no he was not worried about this, because God had not made him like Abraham.  They questioned him further asking: Then perhaps you are weeping because God might criticize you for not being like Moses, the most humble of leaders? “Heavens no,” the rabbi replied. “If God had wanted me to be like Moses, God would have made me like Moses. “ No,” he told them, “I am weeping because I fear that the Holy One will ask me why was I not Zuysa!”

Recounting this story at this time of year is especially poignant as we reflect on our lives.  Humans are called “human beings” but so often our busy lives make us more into “human doings” rushing here and there and developing personas and masks for the many roles we play in our daily public lives. 

When we strip away the masks we wear and the many hats we carry, such as those we use for our chosen career, family roles, and other titles and positions- are we truly happy with the authentic self that lies within? Or do we find a self that may have become a stranger to us, so different and unknown  that perhaps we are not sure if this really is our authentic self?

 I challenge you to pause and reflect on the many hats and masks you wear, and ask yourself when was the last time you really were your true authentic self? Is the true you someone you’d like to see more? And if so, ask yourself how this might be possible.

Questions to help with reflection:

 When have I felt most like my true self?

 What circumstances allow for feeling like I am speaking, acting, thinking from my deepest self?

What circumstances tend to cut me off from my true self?

What are the roles I play or masks I wear? To what extend do I over-identify with these roles and/or masks, which may be ideal for my interactions with people but limit the ways I experience my deeper/higher/truer self?

When has my sense of who I am been challenged or changed in a substantial way?

(Legend narrative and reflection questions adapted from Wise Aging: Living with Joy, Resilience, and Spirit by Rabbi Rachel Cowan and Dr. Linda Thal, copyright 2015 by the Institute for Jewish Spirituality.)

As the Kesher social worker for the temple, I am available to help process with you any obstacles or struggles you foresee getting in the way of being your true self.   I welcome the opportunity to help you find and connect more with the true you and explore further what may be standing in the way of being your authentic self.

 

Rose Murrin, LICSW, is the Kesher social worker at Congregation Beth Sholom.  Kesher is the congregational outreach program of Jewish Family Service of Rhode Island, funded by the Jewish Alliance of Greater Rhode Island, and currently active at Congregation Agudas Achim, Temple Torat Yisrael,  Congregation Beth Sholom and Temple Emanu-El.  She can be reached at rose@jfsri.org or 401-369-0160.

Searching for Solitude

Searching for Solitude

When I was 20, I spent the year living at home and commuting to work and school. The drive to each was about 30 minutes, giving me at least 2 hours a day. In addition, I often drove 6 hours round trip after work to pick up my brother from his college town. Needless to say, I had a lot of time alone. This was a pretty new experience and I filled the time with music and radio. Eventually these options wore thin. Since there were no smart phones to put on speaker and I hadn’t discovered books on tape (yes, my car would have required a cassette tape), I had only one other option- silence. This was uncomfortable at first, but it wasn’t awful. In fact, over time, I learned to long for this time and space to just drive and think or just be there driving. It began to feel like a space in my life I had been missing. Like a space for breath, for self awareness, for opening my mind and heart to whatever the distractions of life pushed to the side.

Today, these spaces are harder to find. Many of us are not required to be without entertainment or connection with others at all. Just pull out your phone while your coffee is being brewed, or you stand in line, or you wait for the next thing to begin- voila! Entertainment, connection! But what are we missing by our fear of missing out?

William Deresiewicz noted in his essay, “The End of Solitude” that while the internet is “an incalculable blessing,” one side effect is that “we live exclusively in relation to others, and what disappears from our lives is solitude.”[1] The research and writing on solitude makes a clear and frequent distinction between solitude and loneliness. The former being a neutral state and the latter being a negative state. So, what is so important about solitude?

There are a number of thinkers who are exploring the benefits of solitude. Reed Larson, professor of human development at University of Illinois found that “adolescents who spent between 25% to 45 % of their non-class time alone received better school grades…were rated as better adjusted by their teachers and parents, and they had lower self-reported depression.”[2] Larry Dossey, MD, in a recently published article on solitude notes, “Anyone who has overcome his or her resistance to solitude and enters the experience sincerely and regularly soon realizes that solitude is neither silent nor empty, but crammed full of information and rewards that are accessible through no other avenue. “[3] When one begins to dig into these studies, reflections and analyses, a theme begins to emerge. As humans, we need solitude as much as we need connection with one another. While the exact balance is likely dependant on the individual, having both is important. To have time alone gives us the opportunity to explore our thoughts, reflect on our experiences and become open to knowledge that is only available through quiet contemplation.

For many of us, looking around at our lives reveals a marked lack of true solitude. While we may spend time physically alone, we are constantly connecting in both superficial and meaningful ways through our computers, phones and tablets. To find solitude in our current society may require us to actively seek and engage in it. We may need to plan, give warning, shut down or power off to find this time. Like all new practices, it may be uncomfortable at first- but in time, it may be truly worth the effort.

Rose Murrin is the Kesher social worker at the synagogue.  Kesher is the congregational outreach program of Jewish Family Service of Rhode Island, funded by the Jewish Alliance of Greater Rhode Island, and currently active at Congregation Agudas Achim, Temple Torat Yisrael, Temple Emanu-El and Congregation Beth Sholom.  She can be reached at rose@jfsri.org or 401-369-0160.

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[1] William Deresiewicz, 2009, The End of Solitude, http://www.chronicle.com/article/The-End-of-Solitude/3708

[2] Reed Larson, 1997, The Emergence of Solitude as a Contructive Domain of Experience in Early Adolescence, Child Development, Volume 68, Number 1, pages 80-93.

[3] Larry Dossey,MD, 2016, Solitude: On Dining Alone, Cellphones, and Teddy Bears,  The journal of Science and Healing, Volume 12, Issue 2, pages 77-83.