When I first began working on recovery, I had this idea in my mind that Recovery = Perfection. This made me anxious because I was pretty sure I would never be perfect...so, imagine my relief when I realized that recovery does not, in fact, have to be flawless. Recovery is authentic living, with all of life's ups and downs. When I committed myself to recovery I also signed myself up for the full range of human emotions, even the negative ones. Because I was also giving up my unhealthy coping mechanisms, I would need some tools to help me handle the uncomfortable feelings that were bound to pop up. Some of these strategies have proven more effective than others, and here I want to share with you one of my secret weapons...
...WONDER.
Yes, wonder...or, as Abraham Joshua Heschel terms it, "radical amazement." In radical amazement, a person is able to marvel at even the most mundane elements of daily life. He or she knows that there are routines and laws of nature that control most phenomena, but this does not dampen the sense of wonder at the fact that the world exists as it is. In speaking about a person who views the world through the lens of radical amazement, Heschel says, "Looking at the world he would say, 'This is the Lord's doing, it is marvelous in our eyes.'" (Psalms 118:23)
Now, if you've ever read any of Heschel's work, you know that it can be rather dense and mind-boggling (and if you haven't read Heschel, just take my word for it). There is no way I can adequately summarize his teachings on radical amazement in one blog entry, but I do think I can explain how I use it. It's pretty simple, actually:
Step 1: Go outside.
Step 2: Find nature.
Step 3: Notice.
Step 4: Be amazed.
Even when I'm deep in a funk, doing those four things never fails to crack the armor and let some light into my life. I find it impossible to remain completely unhappy when I stop to truly appreciate the natural world. Two weeks ago, I was experiencing a rather significant dip in my mood. When Shabbat rolled around I was lonely and negative, and the rainy weather wasn't helping. Midway through the afternoon, I decided I couldn't sit in my apartment any longer, so I put on my rainboots, grabbed an umbrella, and walked a few blocks to my favorite neighborhood park, which has a little wildlife sanctuary tucked into it. I went into the sanctuary and started walking along the path by the pond, and when I happened to look up I saw a heron standing on a tree branch not more than 50 feet from where I was standing. The bird was magnificent, silhouetted against the gray sky. I stood under my umbrella and watched that heron for almost half an hour. It began to groom itself, taking its long, hairlike feathers in its beak and wiping them all clean. It stretched, first one leg and then the other. When it finally spread its wings and flew away, I realized that I was smiling for the first time all day. I felt as though Hashem had brought me to that spot in the park at that exact moment because He knew what I needed: a close encounter with the beauty of the natural world.
If there are no herons by you, don't worry--you can practice wonder for even the smallest things. Have you ever noticed how perfectly rain beads up on the surface of a leaf, or how beautiful a birdsong can be? Do you stop to touch flowers? When was the last time you stood still and witnessed a sunrise, or a sunset? These are such simple parts of daily life, so easy to take for granted...but if you stop to really marvel at their magnificence, you will feel more connected to Hashem and to the Divine energy in the world. As Heschel explains, "This is one of the goals of the Jewish way of living: to experience commonplace deeds as spiritual adventures, to feel the hidden love and wisdom in all things." Radical amazement doesn't solve all the conflicts and stresses of life, but it certainly makes the journey more meaningful and worthwhile!
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Why Deny?
Hello again! I decided I needed a little breather in the wake of my Omer-marathon leading up to Shavuot, but last week's parasha (Nasso) sparked a little fire inside me and I have been mentally formulating this blog post since then. I realize that Nasso is chock-full of material ripe for discussion (perhaps we will come back to the sotah issue another day), but what I want to focus on is the nazirite. Simply put, a nazirite (in the time of the Temple) was an individual who took on vows of asceticism in an effort to achieve a higher level of holiness. Specifically, the vow was to abstain from wine and all grape products, to refrain from cutting one's hair, and to avoid contact with the dead and with graves. It would be a reasonable assumption that Judaism, with its famously stringent laws of kashrut and Shabbat prohibitions, would proclaim virtuous any person who is willing to be even more restrictive than the religion demands. Interestingly, this is not the case. When it comes to the nazirite, the Sages are split in their opinions.
Because I think many of us with histories of eating disorders know all too well how seductive and appealing the practice of self-denial can be, I am going to bypass the Talmudic commentary that looks favorably upon the nazirite (although, to be clear, it certainly exists and is easy to find, if you're motivated to do so). What I find much more fascinating are the words of Sages who clearly do NOT approve of the nazirite vow.
When an individual ends his/her term as a nazirite, that person is required to make a sin offering to Hashem. If a nazirite is so holy, what purpose could there be for a sin offering? Rabbi Eliezer Hakappar argued that a nazirite was required to make atonement because, by practicing extreme self-denial, he had "sinned against the soul." Despite all its laws and regulations, Judaism values the enjoyment of life and does not encourage people to be more restrictive than necessary. As the Sages asked, "Is it not enough what the Torah has forbidden you, but you wish to forbid yourself more things?" (Nedarim 9:1)
This resonates deeply with me because for so long, my guiding principle was Restrictiveness. Forget the fact that I was deeply miserable--there was something about self-denial that also gave me a feeling of superiority, of separateness, of virtuousness. I thought I was special because I could resist what others could not. In that mindset, I never once thought of my vigorous suppression of appetite as "sinning against my soul." But now I think that's exactly what it was.
The Talmud teaches,
"In the future world, a man will have to give an accounting for every good thing his eyes saw, but of which he did not eat." (Kiddushin 4:12) Rabbi Elazar believed this so strongly that he regularly set aside money so that he could taste every kind of food at least once a year.
When I think about that, it almost brings tears to my eyes--that kind of dedication to pleasure and value of delicious experiences. What would it be like to live in that way, to prioritize and savor the enjoyment of food? How can we shift our paradigm from the societal messages of, "Avoid x, y, and z if you don't want to get fat," to the much more nurturing perspective of, "What am I hungry for? What would be yummy? How can I be good to my soul in this moment?" Perhaps just asking the questions--and listening to the answers--is a solid place to start.
Because I think many of us with histories of eating disorders know all too well how seductive and appealing the practice of self-denial can be, I am going to bypass the Talmudic commentary that looks favorably upon the nazirite (although, to be clear, it certainly exists and is easy to find, if you're motivated to do so). What I find much more fascinating are the words of Sages who clearly do NOT approve of the nazirite vow.
When an individual ends his/her term as a nazirite, that person is required to make a sin offering to Hashem. If a nazirite is so holy, what purpose could there be for a sin offering? Rabbi Eliezer Hakappar argued that a nazirite was required to make atonement because, by practicing extreme self-denial, he had "sinned against the soul." Despite all its laws and regulations, Judaism values the enjoyment of life and does not encourage people to be more restrictive than necessary. As the Sages asked, "Is it not enough what the Torah has forbidden you, but you wish to forbid yourself more things?" (Nedarim 9:1)
This resonates deeply with me because for so long, my guiding principle was Restrictiveness. Forget the fact that I was deeply miserable--there was something about self-denial that also gave me a feeling of superiority, of separateness, of virtuousness. I thought I was special because I could resist what others could not. In that mindset, I never once thought of my vigorous suppression of appetite as "sinning against my soul." But now I think that's exactly what it was.
The Talmud teaches,
"In the future world, a man will have to give an accounting for every good thing his eyes saw, but of which he did not eat." (Kiddushin 4:12) Rabbi Elazar believed this so strongly that he regularly set aside money so that he could taste every kind of food at least once a year.
When I think about that, it almost brings tears to my eyes--that kind of dedication to pleasure and value of delicious experiences. What would it be like to live in that way, to prioritize and savor the enjoyment of food? How can we shift our paradigm from the societal messages of, "Avoid x, y, and z if you don't want to get fat," to the much more nurturing perspective of, "What am I hungry for? What would be yummy? How can I be good to my soul in this moment?" Perhaps just asking the questions--and listening to the answers--is a solid place to start.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Malchut
We've arrived at the final week of the Omer period! In just a few days, we will celebrate Shavuot, the time when Hashem gave Torah to the Israelites at Mount Sinai. That's what we've been waiting for throughout the entire counting of the Omer; that's our final destination. So, it is fitting that the sefira for this week is the tenth and final one: malchut.
As the last sefira in the chain, malchut receives all the other sefirot that have come before. It is the purpose for the emanation of all the previous sefirot, the actualization of all the intention that has been building up along the way. Put simply, malchut was what Hashem had in mind when he began the process of creating the world. Its brilliance depends on all of the energy that goes into it, but there's no mistaking that malchut is the ultimate reflection of Hashem's glory.
For weeks, I've been writing about the other sefira and how they are analogous to various parts of the recovery journey; each one is an ingredient that is necessary to living a full and healthy life. Malchut, then, IS recovery. It is the reason why we embark on this process to begin with; the belief in its existence is what keeps us going. There is nothing easy about the work of recovery. I've always maintained that unless the end result was truly phenomenal, no one would ever put herself through the process! What I've discovered, both through talking with other recovered individuals and through my own experience, is that recovery is absolutely, 100% worth it. It is not perfection, but it is genuine life, the purpose for which we were created.
This is the week to celebrate our visions of recovery, to honor the ways we're living our goals and to make plans for how to achieve what we've yet to accomplish. It's the week to remind ourselves that, yes, this IS worth it, that if we turn our intentions into actions, we can live the lives that Hashem intends for us.
My posts don't often generate a lot of comments, but I want to invite each of you to share something that recovery has allowed you to experience, something you've been able to be truly present for as a result of all your efforts in your journey. We can all stand to benefit from the inspiration of others!
Chodesh tov, and chag sameach!
As the last sefira in the chain, malchut receives all the other sefirot that have come before. It is the purpose for the emanation of all the previous sefirot, the actualization of all the intention that has been building up along the way. Put simply, malchut was what Hashem had in mind when he began the process of creating the world. Its brilliance depends on all of the energy that goes into it, but there's no mistaking that malchut is the ultimate reflection of Hashem's glory.
For weeks, I've been writing about the other sefira and how they are analogous to various parts of the recovery journey; each one is an ingredient that is necessary to living a full and healthy life. Malchut, then, IS recovery. It is the reason why we embark on this process to begin with; the belief in its existence is what keeps us going. There is nothing easy about the work of recovery. I've always maintained that unless the end result was truly phenomenal, no one would ever put herself through the process! What I've discovered, both through talking with other recovered individuals and through my own experience, is that recovery is absolutely, 100% worth it. It is not perfection, but it is genuine life, the purpose for which we were created.
This is the week to celebrate our visions of recovery, to honor the ways we're living our goals and to make plans for how to achieve what we've yet to accomplish. It's the week to remind ourselves that, yes, this IS worth it, that if we turn our intentions into actions, we can live the lives that Hashem intends for us.
My posts don't often generate a lot of comments, but I want to invite each of you to share something that recovery has allowed you to experience, something you've been able to be truly present for as a result of all your efforts in your journey. We can all stand to benefit from the inspiration of others!
Chodesh tov, and chag sameach!
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Yesod
This week of the Omer focuses on yesod. Yesod is considered the foundation that links all the previous sefirot to the final one, malchut (to be discussed next week!). It's the channel for the life force that has traveled through each of the sefirot, picking up all the accumulated divine attributes along the way. If malchut is the ultimate recipient, then yesod is what connects malchut to the awesomeness of the gift.
The way in which yesod acts as the "connector" reminds me a lot of my own process of transitioning from contemplating recovery, to truly living recovery. I spent years in the contemplation phase, picking up nuggets of inspiration wherever I could find them. My nutritionists taught me how to nourish my body; my therapists showed me how to manage my emotions and connect with my desires. Other patients shared with me their own experiences and offered me advice based on their own journeys. After years of accumulating all this wisdom, I was primed for recovery and yet not actually living it. I knew exactly what I needed to do. And yet, there was a disconnect--I couldn't quite bring myself to connect my intellectual understanding of recovery with the behavioral change necessary to achieve it.
This is where yesod comes in. For me, yesod has been what has made recovery a reality. It is how I combined all the individual ingredients (the "tool box," for all you CBT folks) into a solid foundation for the structure of a recovered life. Yesod is what bridged the gap between my intention and my actual behavior. All of the skills I learned over a decade of eating disorder treatment were in place, but the skills alone could not make recovery happen. I needed a connector to help me put the knowledge into practice, to help me move from just imagining recovery to actually living it.
If you are in a position of knowing you have the tools for recovery, yet feeling unable to make behavior changes, you are probably familiar with the feelings of frustration that come along with that cognitive dissonance. This is the time to uncover your power of yesod, to find the motivation to put recovery knowledge into action in order to create the life you want. We all deserve to have our dreams of recovery match the realities of our lives. This requires us to construct our foundations, one element at a time. This week, I encourage you to think about what steps you can take to turn your positive thoughts into recovery-oriented behavior. How can you use yesod to help you build the life you desire?
The way in which yesod acts as the "connector" reminds me a lot of my own process of transitioning from contemplating recovery, to truly living recovery. I spent years in the contemplation phase, picking up nuggets of inspiration wherever I could find them. My nutritionists taught me how to nourish my body; my therapists showed me how to manage my emotions and connect with my desires. Other patients shared with me their own experiences and offered me advice based on their own journeys. After years of accumulating all this wisdom, I was primed for recovery and yet not actually living it. I knew exactly what I needed to do. And yet, there was a disconnect--I couldn't quite bring myself to connect my intellectual understanding of recovery with the behavioral change necessary to achieve it.
This is where yesod comes in. For me, yesod has been what has made recovery a reality. It is how I combined all the individual ingredients (the "tool box," for all you CBT folks) into a solid foundation for the structure of a recovered life. Yesod is what bridged the gap between my intention and my actual behavior. All of the skills I learned over a decade of eating disorder treatment were in place, but the skills alone could not make recovery happen. I needed a connector to help me put the knowledge into practice, to help me move from just imagining recovery to actually living it.
If you are in a position of knowing you have the tools for recovery, yet feeling unable to make behavior changes, you are probably familiar with the feelings of frustration that come along with that cognitive dissonance. This is the time to uncover your power of yesod, to find the motivation to put recovery knowledge into action in order to create the life you want. We all deserve to have our dreams of recovery match the realities of our lives. This requires us to construct our foundations, one element at a time. This week, I encourage you to think about what steps you can take to turn your positive thoughts into recovery-oriented behavior. How can you use yesod to help you build the life you desire?
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Hod
This is the week of hod--humility--the counterpart of netzach (victory). I'll admit that I've been having a little trouble solidifying my thoughts on humility, because I think it can be a tricky concept for people in recovery. For those of us who struggle with "black-and-white thinking," it's easy to get on the humility train and ride it straight into relentless self-criticism and self-loathing. It's true that part of humility is acknowledging our own shortcomings and our "smallness." But, how can we do this while also remaining self-affirming?
In reading about hod, I found an article containing a quote that resonates with me strongly:
A full cup cannot be filled. When you're filled with yourself and your needs, "I and nothing else," there is no room for more. When you "empty" yourself before something greater than yourself, your capacity to receive increases beyond your previously perceived limits.
For years, my cup was painfully empty and I relied on my eating disorder to give me an illusion of fullness. So effective was anorexia at convincing me that my cup was full, that I shut out people and experiences that really could have enriched my life. I had no room for relationships with people--my relationship with food was all I needed. Going into intensive treatment required me to acknowledge the many ways in which my eating disorder had brought me to my knees. When I was ready to recognize how empty my cup actually was, I made room for the possibility of filling it with things that would add tremendous value to my life. By admitting how much help I needed, I opened the door for deep connection and profound learning. In recovery, I have found that people are more capable of satisfying my relational needs than I previously thought they would be. What's more, I've found that I'm much more able to receive--and reciprocate--the love that others have to offer.
When I think of hod, another story that keeps coming to my mind is one of my favorite Hasidic oral teachings:
A person should always have two pockets, with a note in each pocket. On one note should be written, "For my sake was the world created." On the other should be written, "I am but dust and ashes."
To me, this means that we each need a healthy dose of humility in our lives. It is okay to recognize areas in which we want to improve and things we need to work on. This is what keeps us growing and evolving. Sometimes, it is important to acknowledge that we are really small in the grand scheme of things, and that we are part of a system that is much larger than ourselves. But, we also need to remember that although we are small, we are significant. Everything we are, we are because this is how Hashem wants us to be--all of our strengths, He gave us so that we could use them for the greater good. Humility is what allows us to say, "Wow--I am just one small person in this awesome universe. But even though I am tiny, I have powers that Hashem has given me so that I might contribute to this world in a positive way."
In this week dedicated to hod, I encourage us all to do the following two things:
1) Think about the ways in which your cup is not full. How can you open yourself to people and experiences that might enrich your life and your journey?
2) Acknowledge that you are just one life in a universe filled with Hashem's creations. Take a moment to appreciate what it means to be one small part of a much larger system. Then, consider your personal strengths and recognize that each one was a gift from Hashem, just for you. How might you use your power to get the most out of this world? How can you use it to give the most back?
In reading about hod, I found an article containing a quote that resonates with me strongly:
A full cup cannot be filled. When you're filled with yourself and your needs, "I and nothing else," there is no room for more. When you "empty" yourself before something greater than yourself, your capacity to receive increases beyond your previously perceived limits.
For years, my cup was painfully empty and I relied on my eating disorder to give me an illusion of fullness. So effective was anorexia at convincing me that my cup was full, that I shut out people and experiences that really could have enriched my life. I had no room for relationships with people--my relationship with food was all I needed. Going into intensive treatment required me to acknowledge the many ways in which my eating disorder had brought me to my knees. When I was ready to recognize how empty my cup actually was, I made room for the possibility of filling it with things that would add tremendous value to my life. By admitting how much help I needed, I opened the door for deep connection and profound learning. In recovery, I have found that people are more capable of satisfying my relational needs than I previously thought they would be. What's more, I've found that I'm much more able to receive--and reciprocate--the love that others have to offer.
When I think of hod, another story that keeps coming to my mind is one of my favorite Hasidic oral teachings:
A person should always have two pockets, with a note in each pocket. On one note should be written, "For my sake was the world created." On the other should be written, "I am but dust and ashes."
To me, this means that we each need a healthy dose of humility in our lives. It is okay to recognize areas in which we want to improve and things we need to work on. This is what keeps us growing and evolving. Sometimes, it is important to acknowledge that we are really small in the grand scheme of things, and that we are part of a system that is much larger than ourselves. But, we also need to remember that although we are small, we are significant. Everything we are, we are because this is how Hashem wants us to be--all of our strengths, He gave us so that we could use them for the greater good. Humility is what allows us to say, "Wow--I am just one small person in this awesome universe. But even though I am tiny, I have powers that Hashem has given me so that I might contribute to this world in a positive way."
In this week dedicated to hod, I encourage us all to do the following two things:
1) Think about the ways in which your cup is not full. How can you open yourself to people and experiences that might enrich your life and your journey?
2) Acknowledge that you are just one life in a universe filled with Hashem's creations. Take a moment to appreciate what it means to be one small part of a much larger system. Then, consider your personal strengths and recognize that each one was a gift from Hashem, just for you. How might you use your power to get the most out of this world? How can you use it to give the most back?
Monday, April 30, 2012
Netzach
As the Omer period marches on, we enter Week 4 and focus on the attribute of netzach, or "victory." But, "victory" alone might not be the most complete translation...I've also heard netzach interpreted as "endurance" or "eternity." My understanding of this sefira combines all of these concepts. Simply put, netzach is the effort and hard work that we put into reaching our goals. It is what helps us find the strength to keep pursuing what we want, even when the obstacles are great, and even when the fight seems to be taking forever.
Tapping into our netzach reservoirs is critical for staying on the path to recovery. As I'm sure most of us can attest, there is very little that is glamorous about this process. There are moments of inspiration and excitement as we catch glimpses of what life has to offer us in recovery, but most of our time is spent doing the work: the appointments and therapy sessions, the meals and snacks, the concrete acts of breaking old patterns, the positive self-talk...the list goes on. For me, this process has not been linear, and I actually can't think of anyone I know who can say that his or her path to recovery has been a straight shot. There are ups and downs, potholes and detours. So, what keeps us on course? Netzach--our determination, and our understanding that although the journey is long, it is leading us where we want to go.
I recently learned that netzach is also sometimes likened to "tough love"...on the surface, what we have to go through seems harsh and perhaps unfair, but in the end it is for our greater good. Sometimes, Hashem gives us blessings disguised in unappealing packages, but if we can get past the wrapping, we can see the true benefit of what is underneath. I remember one low point during my illness; I was studying abroad and unhappily agreed to submit to weekly visits with a local doctor. He couldn't have been more pleasant, but he was an elderly man, and I was convinced that he couldn't possibly understand what I was going through. But, at the end of one visit he looked at me wisely and said, "I think it will be a good experience for your life, this." Even then, as miserable as I was, part of my core self believed him. Somehow I knew that if I stuck with the recovery process, eventually I would end up a more complete, well developed individual than I would have if I had not struggled and persevered.
I believe that I have had a lot to learn, and Hashem has chosen to teach me through the process of recovery. It has not been a smooth ride, but through my endurance and drive I have discovered the victory that comes from perseverance. It is my wish that this week, we find the energy to recommit to staying the course--that we have faith in our ability to overcome obstacles, keep our eyes on the prize, and emerge victorious in the end.
Tapping into our netzach reservoirs is critical for staying on the path to recovery. As I'm sure most of us can attest, there is very little that is glamorous about this process. There are moments of inspiration and excitement as we catch glimpses of what life has to offer us in recovery, but most of our time is spent doing the work: the appointments and therapy sessions, the meals and snacks, the concrete acts of breaking old patterns, the positive self-talk...the list goes on. For me, this process has not been linear, and I actually can't think of anyone I know who can say that his or her path to recovery has been a straight shot. There are ups and downs, potholes and detours. So, what keeps us on course? Netzach--our determination, and our understanding that although the journey is long, it is leading us where we want to go.
I recently learned that netzach is also sometimes likened to "tough love"...on the surface, what we have to go through seems harsh and perhaps unfair, but in the end it is for our greater good. Sometimes, Hashem gives us blessings disguised in unappealing packages, but if we can get past the wrapping, we can see the true benefit of what is underneath. I remember one low point during my illness; I was studying abroad and unhappily agreed to submit to weekly visits with a local doctor. He couldn't have been more pleasant, but he was an elderly man, and I was convinced that he couldn't possibly understand what I was going through. But, at the end of one visit he looked at me wisely and said, "I think it will be a good experience for your life, this." Even then, as miserable as I was, part of my core self believed him. Somehow I knew that if I stuck with the recovery process, eventually I would end up a more complete, well developed individual than I would have if I had not struggled and persevered.
I believe that I have had a lot to learn, and Hashem has chosen to teach me through the process of recovery. It has not been a smooth ride, but through my endurance and drive I have discovered the victory that comes from perseverance. It is my wish that this week, we find the energy to recommit to staying the course--that we have faith in our ability to overcome obstacles, keep our eyes on the prize, and emerge victorious in the end.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Tiferet
Welcome to Week 3 of the Omer! This week is dedicated to refining the sefira of tiferet, which translates as "compassion." I find it a bit ironic that I am sitting here, writing about compassion...for years, whenever anyone even so much as suggested that I try practicing compassion for myself, I would cringe and roll my eyeballs in disgust. A huge piece of recovery for me has been learning that compassion is not, in fact, a dirty word...and the Kabbalistic concept of tiferet exemplifies the best of what I believe compassion has to offer.
Tiferet sits in the Central Column of the sefirot, with chesed (loving-kindness) to its right and gevurah (boundaries, or restraint) on its left. The word, tiferet, comes from the Hebrew word for beauty. Why does beauty reside in the middle between loving-kindness and boundaries? Because, true beauty emerges from genuine harmony between tenderness and strength. Why is tiferet also commonly understood as "compassion"? Because, it represents the perfect balance between kindness and restraint. Too much hardness yields negativity, but too much softness is also not positive. Compassion comes from being able to look a situation or person through both lenses and find a point of connection in between.
I may be a former compassion skeptic, but this concept resonates with me deeply. Recovery requires a constant balance between gentleness and toughness. Let's take the example of behavioral "slips" back into eating disorder behaviors. Anyone who has worked on recovery has probably experienced a slip or two (or many!) in his or her process...it is usually part of the territory. The question then becomes, how do we hold that? Do we comfort ourselves by saying, "Oh, everyone knows slips happen, it's no big deal, don't worry about it" (the "kindness" approach)? Or, do we berate ourselves with, "How could I let this happen?! I am such a recovery failure, I will never get better" (the "harshness" approach)? I would argue, neither is particularly effective. What I would encourage us all to do is to take the tiferet approach...to acknowledge and validate the pain of whatever uncomfortable feeling or situation led us to engage in behaviors, while simultaneously giving ourselves the needed "kick in the pants" to get back on track. In other words, "Yes, I was feeling anxious/sad/whatever for a totally valid reason and I did this eating disorder behavior...and now I will go do this specific recovery behavior to get back in the groove."
It is compassionate to comfort ourselves but also to not allow ourselves to self-destruct. In order to keep this balance, we need both chesed and gevurah to be in harmony. Hashem shows us His loving-kindness every day, but He also sets limits with us and does not grant our every wish. This is how He shows us the most compassion--by loving us completely, but also setting the boundaries that are in our best interests. This week, I wish for us the ability to emulate Hashem by channeling our energy of tiferet--by showing ourselves (and others) compassion that is both tender and firm.
Tiferet sits in the Central Column of the sefirot, with chesed (loving-kindness) to its right and gevurah (boundaries, or restraint) on its left. The word, tiferet, comes from the Hebrew word for beauty. Why does beauty reside in the middle between loving-kindness and boundaries? Because, true beauty emerges from genuine harmony between tenderness and strength. Why is tiferet also commonly understood as "compassion"? Because, it represents the perfect balance between kindness and restraint. Too much hardness yields negativity, but too much softness is also not positive. Compassion comes from being able to look a situation or person through both lenses and find a point of connection in between.
I may be a former compassion skeptic, but this concept resonates with me deeply. Recovery requires a constant balance between gentleness and toughness. Let's take the example of behavioral "slips" back into eating disorder behaviors. Anyone who has worked on recovery has probably experienced a slip or two (or many!) in his or her process...it is usually part of the territory. The question then becomes, how do we hold that? Do we comfort ourselves by saying, "Oh, everyone knows slips happen, it's no big deal, don't worry about it" (the "kindness" approach)? Or, do we berate ourselves with, "How could I let this happen?! I am such a recovery failure, I will never get better" (the "harshness" approach)? I would argue, neither is particularly effective. What I would encourage us all to do is to take the tiferet approach...to acknowledge and validate the pain of whatever uncomfortable feeling or situation led us to engage in behaviors, while simultaneously giving ourselves the needed "kick in the pants" to get back on track. In other words, "Yes, I was feeling anxious/sad/whatever for a totally valid reason and I did this eating disorder behavior...and now I will go do this specific recovery behavior to get back in the groove."
It is compassionate to comfort ourselves but also to not allow ourselves to self-destruct. In order to keep this balance, we need both chesed and gevurah to be in harmony. Hashem shows us His loving-kindness every day, but He also sets limits with us and does not grant our every wish. This is how He shows us the most compassion--by loving us completely, but also setting the boundaries that are in our best interests. This week, I wish for us the ability to emulate Hashem by channeling our energy of tiferet--by showing ourselves (and others) compassion that is both tender and firm.
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