Spirituality Is My Crutch

At least that's what some people want to believe. Grieving is a funny thing, we all do it but in different ways and on different time lines. After recently experiencing the greatest loss of my life, 9 months ago, I have found myself on an incredible journey through grief & sadness, love & spiritual awakening. Spirituality hit me as hard as the loss itself. This spiritual journey has guided through the darkness, lifted my heart, my spirit, and my soul. I have found "MY" God, the one withIN ME, not someone else, not one that someone has told me I should believe in. Recently I have become confused by the reaction of some people around me, those whom say they care, those whom say they love me. It seems they have a perception that this spiritual thing is bad, is harmful, is false. Its not OK that I am happy, that I have found peace and acceptance, this spirituality must be tricking me, I being fooled by something that I couldn't possible believe, or found on my own. If they could only take the time to read some of my earlier posts, maybe they could understand that spirituality is not new to me, but it had been locked inside, trying in vain to get out. For me, Erica (my wife) held the key, when she died, as she left our physical presence, she unlocked the door, opened my heart to the extent it never had been before. As she left me she empowered me to share with the rest of the world what only she knew and saw before. Some people understand and embrace the new ME, some are frightened. It feels to me as if they think my spirituality is a crutch, like alcohol or drugs, as if I were using it as an escape to mask reality as opposed to a tool to gain strength, perspective and understanding. This negative energy is a powerful thing, something that I have fought since the day Erica died, for some the negativity is their crutch, their way of coping and that is ok, it is their path. Today I am reaching deep into my spiritual toolbox, trying to pull away from this vortex of negativity, trying to get back to the peaceful, beautiful place, where Erica's spirit dwells, where her presence embraces me allowing me to live, love and be present for my children, my family and friends.

Spirituality in life and death

This one is particularly tough for me. Though I have lost some close friends, and some family members, I never really felt anything spiritual upon their death. Yes, I have seen what I thought was the soul departing but with no real spiritual sense, and believe me I was looking. Perhaps it was due to the fact I was in my teens and all who died had absolutely no G-d in their lives. All were in great pain both physically and emotionally. All had been wounded by generations on sadness and depression. In fact when it comes to this I have always thought that it is me, who is to break that chain. What I do know is, I did see the life leave their bodies and I do believe that it was with the departure of their souls that they were finally able to live.

I absolutely believe in “G-d” (I used to really have a tough time with this word and I know it alienates many people, due to its over use and that men call on it to incite murder) or some “thing”. I cannot look at us, the perfection of the human machine, the brilliance of nature and the infinite space of the universe and think that a mathematical equation is going to answer my questions. I know with a deep sense that G-d exists, though I have no idea what the next step is. I would be lying to say that this doesn’t scare me sometimes because it does. What I choose to believe and what makes sense to me is a discussion for another time. What I can say in a nutshell is that I trust that this is just one step out of many, this earth, this universe, etc and there is so much more to experience on many different “Planes”, this just being one step in a greater life. This also gives me the confidence to “live” my life to the fullest without fear but with an absolute love.

So, the question is, Spirituality, in particular Jewish spirituality because of, or in the face of death? Judaism fills all the voids in between what I do not clearly feel or see. Judaism allows and Judaism teaches and Judaism makes sense of the universe for me. Though I have not (and I do not look forward to it) experienced death of a loved one face to face in many years, I know unequivocally however, I will be turning to my Jewish faith for the answers in that time.

Not All Deaths Are Created Equal

I was at my grandmother's bedside when she died. I was a college senior, and my grandmother was 83. She had lived a long, rich, full life. The weeks leading up to her death were difficult and scary for me, but somehow when she did finally die at the winter solstice, I experienced something more akin to beauty. After teaching me so much about life, my granmma also taught me how to die. I don't know if I will be as lucky as she was to gracefully let go at the end of a blessed and fulfilling run, but that is my hope. My first child was born on December 19th - the anniversary of my grandmother's death. I have always found this a poignant reminder of the beauty that can be found in "circle of life". Yes, I would describe my grandmother's death as a powerful spiritual experience in my own life.

I also lived through the death of my father-in-law at the end of a miserable pair of years. His death was not beautiful, nor were the last 2 years of his life leading up to it. When he passed away, we experienced sadness, but mostly relief that his suffering was at an end. That did not feel particularly spiritual to me.

We have known a few children who have died in the past couple of years, and I find nothing whatsoever spiritual about their untimely deaths. I do not see any good coming from the brutal destruction of their parents' hopes, dreams, and belief in the future.

Not sure what all this means as an answer to the question posed, other than that I have not found the experience of death to necessarily be a path towards spirituality. Sometimes it can be beautifully meaningful fulfillment of a life well lived. Sometimes it can be more of a goal to be reached as an end to suffering. And sometimes it can be a terribly destructive force.

~ Debby

The Presence of Life's Power

There is no doubt something wonderous is at work that powers each and everyone of us, as well as what sustains life in all life forms on Earth. I witnessed the moment my step dad died - was in the room with him. Never felt anything like it; something actually left the room!

It was this moment that compels me to believe there is something beyond us and Earth. Hard to believe we all just stop existing if you believe what certain athiests think. If G-d exists then the existance has to be about life's power and what is behind this energy that sustains each of us. I cannot believe that this energy just ceases to exists. I struggle to call this energy G-d at times, but there is no doubt something amazing is at work.

I am still blown away how humans have the complex mind to both live and also think about meaning of life. Sometimes I wish I was a lower mammal and just cared about my next meal for the thoughts that can flood my mind about the reasons for existing can be so powerful and overwhelming.

However, I realize how powerful it is to contemplete the meaning of life and how this meaning brings the enjoyment of those the lives around me. No doubt I feel very close to family, but also feel strong bonds to my close friends, my fellow congregants as well as even colleagues at work. These feelings are truly the strong emotions of loving, caring and fondness for fellow humans that gives me pause to feel truly spiritual or even holy. I am also hopeful it is these feelings that will lead us to an age of peace and tolerance.

When the time comes for someone close to me to leave this life on Earth, it is comforting to think they went someplace else; hopefully some place good. I can echo the thought that when we tell stories about them, we keep them alive on some level. There is also the power that they affected us enough for us to tell those stories and give us the feeling of missing them.

I can close that it is this feeling of missing those that have died that helps us acknowledge the presence of life's power (or lack thereof). It is this power that drive us to continue with those memories. I tend to feel sad about a loss of life, but also extraordinarily happy about knowing them while they were alive and seeing their influence on those around them. It is a conflicting feeling, but it is what leads us to spirtuality and a belief in G-d in the first place.

Souls

One of the things I think about when the term spirituality is used is the soul. The question of what happens to our souls when we die has always intrigued me; and at the same time, being in the presence of a loved one during his or her last days or directly after their death can be an experience that is profoundly soul effecting.

When my grandmother passed away over a year ago in July, I knew her beautiful, vibrant soul had to exist somewhere in some form, even though her body was lifeless. She had touched and loved others so deeply, and planted seeds of light, hope, and wisdom in those who loved her.

When families and friends united to share stories, keeping her memory alive, there were spiritual moments for many of us, as we felt both the power of remembering and the pain of her loss deep in our cores - in our souls.

Grieving Sucks

Thursday morning we suddenly lost our beloved father & grandfather, Danny Gould. If one believed in karma or that sort of thing, Danny would have gone instantly at his desk, playing piano and regaling his friends. He worked, lived and loved perfectly. All who knew him thought him perfect. Yet, despite always doing the right thing, the past year has been horrible for him. After 38 years with Warner Brothers, he lost his job last summer (at age 88, but still!). He's been watching his beloved wife of 59 years turn into someone almost unrecognizable due to Alzheimer's Disease. He's suffered from two strokes (both of which he made just about complete recoveries from). And last week, he suffered a catastrophic brainstem stroke which rendered him unable to swallow.

A nasogastric tube was inserted up his nose and a suction device placed at his bedside so he could try to manage his secretions. It was awful to see this man who loved eating and talking (we called him "The Speecher") unable to eat and barely able to talk. He was clearly uncomfortable, yet, we knew he was fighting hard to make a recovery. The doctors, social workers and his case manager were grim. His outlook for recovery was grim. His future, if he should survive, looked sure to include gastric tubes, a tracheotomy and chronic battles with pneumonia. How could such a loved, talented and rightous man be dealt such horrible cards? Why would he be destined to be today's Biblical version of Job?

While I certainly feel a sense of communtiy and support from my friends and synagogue family, I'm struggling to find spirituality in this whole thing. I wish I could believe that it was part of g-d's plan to end his struggle without additional suffering, but the logical part of me thinks that his death was just a logical consequence of food being aspirated into his lungs when he tried to eat for the last time. I know the whole thing about man not being able to know or comprehend G-d's purpose or plan, but still. Hard to feel spiritual when grieving sucks so much.

Finding Spirituality when dealing with death

This is a topic I find myself thinking about very often as I have a 96 year old grandma and Brad has a 92 year old grandma. While they are both in good health, the reality is that they have lived much longer than their peers. Each holiday or significant event, I am always thinking, "will this be the last time they are with us?" I am not trying to be morbid, just a realist.

Thinking back to other grandparent deaths, I hope that they both go quickly, preferably in their sleep without being hospitalized, hospice, 3 am phone calls etc. But, the flip side to this desire is that each time I talk to them or see them, it could be the last time.

I can remember spending time alone, listening to music and thinking (and crying) about the family member who recently passed away. That time is when I felt the most connection to them and to the world around me. Ironically, I do not like being in Temple because while I find the words and tradition to be comforting, I don't like being around so many people. And I want to cry.

I agree with what the Rabbi said about this being such a vulnerable time and it's during vulnerable times that people turn to God and religion. That might be why the B'nai Mitzvah students feel like they do.

Something tells me that I will be experiencing this in the not so distant future, so I will probably be better equipped to answer this question then.

Spirituality in the Face - or Because of - Death

This month we begin to consider spirituality at times of transition, particularly at times of death and dying.  Our question is:

Where do you find spirituality or the presence of the Holy One/Higher Power/God when loved ones are facing death and/or dying?

When I sit with our pre-B'nai Mitzvah students to prepare their divrei Torah (speeches), I always ask them "What do you believe about God and when have you ever felt close to God?"  A huge percentage of the young people talk about sensing God's presence when a loved one - usually a grandparent - has died.  Though the answers differ, they find a sense of connection with something bigger, something beyond, this realm.  Some feel like God is getting them and their families through the difficult period.  Others feel like this is not a regular time; it is more, deeper, poignant. 

Times when a loved one dies are among the most vulnerable moments in our lives.  Some of us are mad at the world/spirituality/God that this is happening.  Others see them as moments of intense spirituality. 

For me, these times - facing and living through the death of a loved one - are intense and incredibly spiritual.  We stand - literally - at the intersection between life and death... and whatever is after.  I am more aware of the blessings in my life.  I am more appreciative also. 

There is an incredible peace that comes - amidst the sadness - when someone dies. Peace that pain (or one kind of pain) is at an end.  Peace that what's next is out of our hands.  Hope that there is an Olam Haba, an existence that comes after this world.  And a  sense of assuredness - for me - that our souls become bound up with the Eternal Soul of the universe. 

Those are my thoughts. What are yours?

Staring at the ceiling

When I was a kid, I never liked the High Holy Day services. I was horrifically bored on one hand and terribly intimidated on the other. I can't even remember the name of the synagogue that I attended as a young child, but I do remember that the ceiling was one of those ceilings made up of lots of 12 by 12 tiles with tiny black holes scattered in random patterns on them. It must have been an older synagogue (or just possibly not constructed very well - where is Stephen Bloom when you need him?) because I distinctly remember water stains on some of the tiles and wondered if the stains were caused by G-d's tears. The services of my youth (I had to be less than 7 years old at the time) led what was probably pretty close to a "conservadox" service. Watching the cantor hit himself and plead for forgiveness was unsettling - I mean, what could the cantor possibly be asking forgiveness for? This just made me even more scared as I knew that I wasn't very nice to my brother. And I did sneak snacks before dinner. Sometimes I said I brushed my teeth when I really didn't because I didn't like how the orange juice would make the toothpaste taste after breakfast. Yep. I was a bad kid.

I was so convinced that G-d was literally writing down names in his book of life that I actually sat incredibly, unbelievably still in my seat - I just had to make a favorable impression on the big guy (or gal). I distinctly recall looking up at those little black holes and trying to glimpse G-d. I mean, the rabbi kept telling us how he was watching us and was everywhere. What if he didn't see me? What would happen if he spelled my name wrong? So there I would sit trying to make eye contact with G-d through the little black spaces in the ceiling tiles. After all, if I could insure that G-d actually SAW me, well, he would just have to write my name in his book!

Since then, events in my life have led me to be skeptical of an all powerful, Omnipresent Being running the show here on earth. Darfur and the holocaust also don't help the cause any. However, the older I get, the more I treasure the routines and traditions of my heritage. There is something so deeply moving, dare I say spiritual, about a gathering of people singing together. There is a spark of electricity when the community comes together in worship. Call it electricity, piety, spirituality, heck, call it whatever you want. I just know that since I started attending Congregation Or Ami, I actually like High Holy Day services. I guess there is a G-d after all!

Impact

Thursday 9/9/10

O.K. So, the High Holy Days and other significant spiritual notions were rattling around in my head. So much so, that usually I am a deep and heavy sleeper but I was awaken at 4:41 am this morning after an intense dream that involved Steven Spielberg and my spirituality. The dream isn't really important and just to sum it up Mr. Spielberg and I were riding in a car having and intense Torah discussion. The topic was the Akedah (the binding of Isaac) and the conversation was pandemonium, flowing, magical, spiritual, madness! When Mr. Spielberg and I realized what we were doing, we had a big laugh! We acknowledged each other’s enthusiasm and deep mutual love of our Jewish identities. I thanked him for pressing mine to me at a very young age through his philanthropic endeavors, films and his unashamed self-pride in being a Jew. I reminded Mr. Spielberg of his importance to Jews, “After all” I said, ''how many filmmakers can say they have affected people in the way you affected so many?'' Of course he took it in stride, though, he did shoot me a fake smile and I felt a bit like a kiss-ass. There was a long, awkward silence then, eyes wide open! It was 4:41 am and I was now awake and awake for good.

First I have to say that I didn't weigh in on the last question on our Spiritual Blog, the "Summertime Question" due to the fact my work schedule has never been more intense, tons of traveling, night work and a lot of 18 hour days. This turns out as all things do, if you allow them to unfold and stay in the moment, to be just fine. As things go my ''Summertime Question'' and response roll right into the High Holy Days question.

Utmost is that this has been one of the most spiritually powerful times in my life. Starting in the summer, on June 5th with the Bat Mitzvah of my daughter Sofia. The single most powerful experience (other than the birth of my children) in my life. When asked to describe, I say it was like my wedding on steroids. As intense, as spiritual, as warm, the overpowering love in the room, everything my wedding was but...it was for someone we love more than ourselves.

This past summer marked my return to meditation after a very long hiatus and with it, a clear intention. Meditation had been elusive the last few years to say least and intention, forget about it!

I also spent a good amount of time in Hawaii (for work). I am a former professional surfer who had devoted an enormous amount of time both in and out of the water to Hawaii, though I hadn't returned in many years. Hawaii is the Jerusalem of surfing, the spiritual center of the surfing universe and it is certainly not wasted on me. I surfed as much as I worked. With little sleep (I was working nights, albeit in the most beautiful locations you could ever imagine) but I was overflowing with monumental amounts of raw energy due to the environment surrounding me. Just the smell alone, not to mention the clarity of the water and sky… My soul had filled and was beginning to overflow.

Then there was my brother-in-law's twin daughters baby naming. My wife Janna and I were asked to write a brucha for the naming. Let me first say that writing a brucha is my absolute favorite task. To boil down the essence of love and devotion (all blessings can be distilled to these notions) into 80 words or less, (including a piece of the weeks Torah portion) is an art that I am fully adept at. So, I write Janna reads. She is too busy to contribute as a writer so, l write no problem. Simple. A great discovery was made! I write, Janna reads, all cry! The combination of my concise passion and Janna's supreme tenderness, dignity and repose while reading… Knocked it out of the spiritual park if you will. The great thing about such events is they are a win, win situation. After all who was to be blessed? Well, of course the babies and how wonderful the love for them but it always works in reverse as well. The babies get the group consciousness of love, in turn the babies open up our hearts and all feel the words (if they are paying attention, hence 80 words or less). It was an outstanding moment to say the least. My week was already made at this point, I needed nothing else to carry me spiritually until Shabbat. Though, shortly after the ceremony another wonderful event occurred. I was approached by the Rabbi, an exceptional women with whom I had taken a few classes a couple of years past. She hadn't remembered me from class (which I felt was a positive) but she wanted to know my deal. The Rabbi appreciated my words and wanted to know more about the man who wrote them. I told her of my passion for Judaism, writing and how all things in my life, I felt, were leading me down a path narrowing towards a new career. ''And with whom was I affiliated? Ah…Rabbi Paul Kipnes. Good! Good.'' After further probing and a short but intensely honest discussion I told the Rabbi of my not so secret dream of the Rabbinate and she responds with, ''You must take the next Lay Leaders Retreat at the Institute for Jewish Spirituality''. The Rabbi expresses her belief that perhaps I might better serve the Jewish community in other ways, that through meditation, Torah study and silence at the retreat I might find the proper path and with her words I am now flying! We also agree to keep in close touch throughout the process. I think, what an incredible afternoon, so many spectacular moments packed into 3 hours.

All of these events are at the forefront of my thoughts as I slept, like I said literally all this rattling around my brain. I awake at 4:41 am and I start to blog at 4:50 am (had to have coffee!). I write until the kids have to be taken to school. Close the computer, knowing I will not be able to return for a week. It will have to be after the High Holy Days I am working many long hours and this was my window until post Neilah.

Saturday 9/18/10

So, tonight I return and clean up what was previously written and add the High Holy Days portion. For those who attended the services you know. For those who attended the study sessions in-between? You are even more fortunate. Once again our hearts were filled with love, exultation and rapture. The rabbis, the cantor, the choir, the children, the soloists, the orchestra, the congregation, the venue, on and on I could go. So many times tears streamed down my face, the beauty of the music, the truth of the benediction, the history in our prayers, the embrace of my children, wife, mother-in-law and friends as we moved to and fro. This was perfection in moments. I pine for the High Holy days. I exist for this time, the time to shed life's transgressions and periphery, to decompress, gather up the family and go get our souls replenished. To stand in the congregation and belt out the Shema. To see all who I miss, love and have shared so much with at Or Ami. To hear my daughter sing Mi Chamocha. To see my son listen with intent. To watch my wife relax and become whole. To close my eyes and listen, as the grind of everyday life fades, the rabbi's words, the cantor's music, my heart ascends, as I fly through the universe as light.

''The High Holy Day and the impact on my spirituality?'' Impact defined as; the action of one object coming forcibly into contact with another.

You bet, as spirit and soul.