To be honest, it is Friday morning and I have no idea what to write about. This past week I had some amazing experiences that I could share, but nothing is coming to me in this moment. Since I talk about being in the moment and being present, I guess I will explore that topic for now. Because the idea that I must produce a blog entry in this moment because of some outside plan, is almost the antithesis to actually being in the moment. You may say to yourself, “Esther there are deadlines in the real world. We can’t just sit around and wait until the moment of writing occurs because then we would never go to work, never take care of the things we have to take care of and never fulfill our responsibilities.”
In my experience, that is not true. Over the past six months, I have observed the way things are happening. Oftentimes when I place external pressures on myself to get things done, resistance shows up. Instead of making dinner, bathing the kids and getting homework done, I am serving noodles with butter, skipping the bath and fighting with my daughter to do her homework. On the other hand when I let go of the external pressures and allow things to unfold without trying to control the outcome, things I hate doing just seem to happen. The chicken comes out of the freezer in the morning to defrost. My sister comes over and bathes the kids for me and my daughter does her homework without even being asked. It almost seems miraculous. I recently started a business creating releasing CDs for children and when I created my business plan I envisioned a children’s book to go with it. I called my mother who enjoys writing children’s books and asked her for help and then started thinking about other authors who I could contact to help me. I went away for a few weeks and placed the project on hold for that time. One morning while I was away, I woke up around 6 am and thought to myself, “now’s a good time to write a children’s book” and in about 15 minutes I had a first draft. I was in shock and ecstatic. I immediately emailed it to my mother in New York and she read it to Lori, my 7 year old. My mother called me back excitedly saying how great it was and the pièce de résistance ; Lori laughed. At that point I knew I was on to something. In the past I never would have thought I could write a book like that but when I let go for the moment and let the flow happen, a book was written without any effort. Oftentimes we believe we need to control things, plan them and make sure they happen. In my experience, letting go of the wanting to control, the planning on how and when and the need to get things done, opens up possibilities I never thought existed. Lori doing her homework on her own, books being created and this blog post being written are the everyday miracles that remind me that watching life unfold is more enjoyable than trying to control it. I hope you can enjoy the unfolding…
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I have spent most of my life anticipating the bad things that will happen to me. When I am walking down the street alone late at night, I plan on what I will do if someone comes to attack me. If I am about to be attacked, my plan is to tell the attacker that I have AIDS. This plan has been set since I was about 15 and every time I walk alone I go over the details. I worry whether they will believe me, whether they will care, and what I will do if they don’t. This is a constant fear that I hold onto in the back of my mind. For a while, I wondered though, if it has a purpose-all of this planning, all of the fear. It is as if I believed that in holding these thoughts in my mind somehow they would protect me from any bad. It was my good luck charm. It seems that my belief was that if you think it, it won’t happen. What I have learned this year is that in preparing for suffering, all we are doing is suffering, whether or not the perceived threat comes to fruition. This year I had the opportunity to be part of a burglary and boy was it different than anything I could have planned for.
One night in mid September I returned home from my mothers house after a meal. I began to get into my bed when I heard banging. Imagining that it was the housekeeper sending her boyfriend out of my home secretly, I started calling out to her. When I didn’t receive a response I put my robe on and went to check it out. Coming down the stairs I called out again. This time I was met with a response, “si senora”. I stepped into the kitchen, turned to the right and screamed as I saw 2 men standing there. One man grabbed my mouth and said “Be quiet. Everything is going to be ok. We wont hurt you. We didn’t think anyone was home”. Immediately my mind became fully present and I just went with what they told me. “Where is your jewelry?” “Upstairs in my room.” “Ok show us.” I led them upstairs to my bedroom. One of the men stood behind me and pushed me up against the wall. “Where is it?” “It’s in the closet in an orange box that you keep nails in. Check the shelf, let me help you.” “No. stay here. Don’t worry-we will find it.” The man that was standing behind me was very gentle, speaking softly to me. “Don’t worry we wont hurt you. We didn’t think anyone was home”. As they searched through my jewelry, I took deep breaths. I thought about my son lying in the next room, hoping they wouldn’t wake him and praying with all my heart that they wouldn’t take him. Counting my blessings that my older daughter slept out and hoping that these burglars would find what they were searching for in this world. Praying that they would take something positive from this experience, helping them to come to a greater realization about life and their chosen profession. In the middle of all this I said to one of them “I hope that you use the money to do some good in the world”. He replied “You make me feel like a bad person.” “You are not a bad person you are just in a difficult life situation”. I felt like the monk in “Zen Shorts,” who finds a burglar in his house and has nothing to give but the robe on his back and he feels bad about this. At that moment I had such an intense amount of compassion for these two men, all I wanted to do was help them. They then kindly asked me to stand in my closet. The one who had been standing with me went to check the rest of the house. The second guy watched me. He was not as in control as the first, he was a little more insecure. We had an interesting conversation. He said to me “Where is your engagement ring?” I said. “Sorry, I am divorced.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth I was in shock. “Esther,” I thought, “what are you doing? Why are you telling this man this?” He replied, “What a shame…If we had met under different circumstances, maybe things could have been different here.” And I am not sure if I said this out loud or not, but what went through my mind at that moment was, “Maybe it wasn’t such a good time for a pick up line.” He then went on to tell me I have nice legs. As a shiver of fear ran through my body, I made a tsking sound. A. because my legs are not something I considered nice and B. because is he joking? is this what they teach you in burglary school? Anyway he was insulted at my tsking noise. So, to boost his ego, I thanked him for the compliment and explained that I was just a little bit nervous and I hoped he could understand. While this was happening upstairs the other guy was downstairs where he found my housekeeper hiding in the basement. He gently took her necklace from her neck and brought her upstairs to the closet with me. I hugged her and told her to be quiet. She started to tell me that she called the police and I quickly quieted her down. Then the two burglars spent the next five minutes discussing whether they should lock us up or tie us up and then decided it wouldn’t be safe for my baby in the other room. So, they kindly told us to count to 100 before we moved and then they left. The loudest entrance and the quietest escape-I actually wasn’t even sure that they had left in the end. During the experience I was extremely calm but afterwards my mind came back,-the thoughts, the fear and the anxiety didn’t end. Someone told me weeks later that the fear I was experiencing after this episode was normal but the strength I showed that day proved my inner ability to deal with any situation. Interestingly enough, I couldn’t remember the strength. Panic set in and I went through weeks of sleepless nights and anxiety attacks. What is interesting to me in this moment is how during the burglary I was fine. Feelings arose, bad things happened and I was ok. Afterwards I suffered 100 times more than during. When I started thinking again, when I let myself tell stories about the incident, when I replayed everything in my mind, life became unbearable. How many times do we allow our thoughts to keep us suffering? How often do we plan for bad things to happen? And either they never happen or when they do, they are not as bad as we imagined. What is it about thoughts that keep us so engaged? Do most people want to be authentic or do we prefer pretending to be perfect, happy and easygoing? If the accepted behavior is one of cheerfulness and security, should we break out of that mold and be truthful and honest? Should we pretend, regardless of the truth that lies underneath it all? The closest I have come to being authentic is in writing this blog and let me tell you it is full of difficulties. The insecurities that arise and the fear that shows up could keep anyone sane from posting (lucky you I am not sane). Yes, I am getting positive feedback. The readers are enjoying the honesty but it is “my” honesty, “my” stories, “my” vulnerabilities and “my” insecurities. I am putting myself out there for all to see and that is scary but what I have noticed is that the stories I tell might be different but all of us share the same feelings. We all share the same insecurities and fears. The only difference are the tales we tell about those things. As soon as we can recognize that we are more alike than different the sooner we will be able to enjoy the world and the people in it. We have an opportunity to embrace each other in all of our vulnerabilities and fears because we are all the same and we all want the same things. No matter how tough, shy, conceited or confident we appear to others. We all want to be loved, to be accepted and to be told that we are ok just the way we are. Once I was able to see this I was able to notice more love in the world. The perceived threats I feel from the outside come from the same feelings I feel on the inside. When a friend lashes out at me, it is an opportunity for me to recognize that she feels threatened and rather than reject her for it with my own hurt ego I can embrace her and love her because I know how it feels. Because I am her and she is me and the only difference is in the stories we tell.
Do you know what I find interesting? No matter what you weigh, whether thin or fat, most women are not happy with their bodies. The men that are reading this are saying to themselves, we knew that, but women still believe that if we looked like her, or her, or her, then we would be happy.
For many women, the Loehmanns dressing room has always been a difficult place. Ladies, if you have never been there, let me give you an idea of what it is like. It’s a big , open room where women have to get undressed and try on clothes that may or may not fit . Now imagine you pick up a pair of jeans. You are not sure if they are going to fit; you really want to pick the smaller size because you know the bigger size will stretch out but then you remember you can’t do a shimmy dance, pulling and tugging, twisting and turning , if you’re in a room with twenty other women. Your perfect pair of jeans go back on the table. When you are a teenager and your mom wants to take you for the first time, this is how the conversation sounds: Mom- Listen honey, I am going to take you to Loehmanns. It is fantastic, the best deals, I got a pair of Jimmy Choo’s for $99, a Vertigo suit for $75 and Sevens jeans for $50 and then to top it all off, I got a 20% discount! Daughter- Great. Mom- There’s just one thing - the dressing room is open . Daughter- Open? Mom- Yeah, there are no separate rooms, just one big room for everyone. Daughter- Are you out of your mind ! I’m not going there! (OK everyone, here’s the clincher) Mom- Honey, don’t worry, no one’s looking! Well let me tell you something, moms of the world. They are looking and do you know how I know they are looking? Because I am looking and I am looking at everyone. Who’s fat. Who’s thin. Who is wearing thong underwear and who is not wearing any underwear at all. I am not strange or a voyeur. Here is the interesting part; we are not looking because we care one bit about the other person’s body, we are looking because we care about our own. Do we look like her? My boobs are not as perky, my hips are narrower, her legs are thinner than mine. I actually wish we were looking because we enjoyed the female form and could see the beauty of it, but no, that’s not it. I recently started taking a Bikram yoga class. Bikram yoga is practiced in a room that is heated to 110 degrees. We twist and contort our bodies into 26 postures while sweating buckets for ninety minutes. It gets smelly and afterwards a shower is required. Now me, my prudish self, used to wear my clothes into the shower stall, slowly peel them off and shower so no one could see me. I would carefully wrap my towel around to cover myself and take my clothes into the private bathroom to dry off and change. And then it hit me. - I wasn’t prudish. I was uncomfortable with my body. All that time I pretended it was inappropriate to be naked in front of people, when in reality, I was embarrassed. The first day undressing in the larger room was intimidating but slowly, I began to allow myself to love that time. I gave myself a chance to explore the feelings about my body in relation to the other women in the room. Not only did I begin to become more comfortable, I began to enjoy my shower and the chance to take care of myself after the intense workout. Putting cream on my body, blowing my hair and really enjoying the beautiful form that I have. The recognition that my body is beautiful provokes anxiety in me. How can I think my body is beautiful when I weigh 200 pounds? But at the same time, who am I to judge? Why do we give so much credence to these beliefs about what is beautiful? In my experience the person I believe is beautiful usually doesn’t believe so, herself. How remarkable. It seems that the work I have engaged in over the past year; the self inquiry; The figuring out who I am and living more authentically and happily in the world, has caused people to wonder whether I have joined a cult. As I write this, I laugh. You see it’s not the first time people have worried about this with me and it won’t be the last. What I have learned about life in the past year is that people, even the ones appearing to be the most open-minded, have their limits and when push comes to shove, if something out there is new and different, that can be scary and threatening.
Let me tell you this story. You see my family has always been different from most of the families in the main stream community where I live. My parents supported higher education, therapy and asking lots of questions, all which seemed to be unsupported in many of my friends’ homes. We were different and as a kid I felt it. As a kid I always wanted to fit in; be a part of the group and I didn’t seem to. My ideas were always stronger. My voice was always louder and my body was bigger than everyone’s around me. I was different and I didn’t like it. Fast forward 20 years, here I am a beautiful, vibrant and talented woman who went through some difficult experiences over the past year and what did I do, you may ask. I took the experiences. I took the history and I took the belief that my family in all of their open mindedness would stand by me and allow me to be the person that was hiding inside of this body and I ran with it all. What happened was remarkable. I blossomed. I grew. I opened myself up and became who I always was. The me that had been hiding inside of myself. My insecurities dissolved. My self judgment dissipated and I was able to act more honestly and more authentically. At this point, my family turned to me and said, “The things you are doing don’t seem responsible. Your feelings are to intense and your decisions seem irrational, Maybe you should go back on the anxiety medication you were taking.” Let me tell you the irresponsible and irrational things I was doing; traveling to a conference for business and self growth, asking for help with the kids and letting go of the strict religious beliefs that by the way, my family didn’t even espouse to. I stood their dumbfounded. What?! I thought. Here I am a divorced mother of two children, taking care of them every day while at the same time dealing with the grief of a failed marriage and the fear after having been pushed into a closet by two of the nicest burglars in Brooklyn (more on that later), and not only am I functioning but I am feeling really good about myself, and doing a pretty decent job parenting. What ran through my head that week was the following: we live in a bubble and no matter how much we bitch and moan about it we like it. In my experience that bubble feels safe. When someone starts pushing against it, the fear of the bubble bursting becomes really scary and we begin to panic. The panic that arises in that moment, threatens who we are and so we need to pull people back in. The fear of the unknown feels like we are losing our safety and security. So, rather than face the fears head on, we would prefer to label the new ideas as irrational, cultish, or ill. Push the person who threatens our sense of self, our belief in the way the world works, back inside the bubble, back into the little box we have constructed so we don’t have to face the fears. All of you out there who are worried for me and the cult I have joined, worry no more! Because in these moments when I face the fears I step out of the bubble and embrace myself in all of my glory and all of my faults. I know that we all fear the unknown and we can notice when that fear arises. It is in that moment that we have the opportunity to open ourselves up to new experiences and new possibilities and embrace who we are without the boundaries of the bubble. It is with that in mind that I invite you to look beyond any limiting belief systems, and open yourselves up to the endless possibilities of this moment and join me in the freedom that is here. Perception- the United States economy is based on perception. You know, it was only recently that I realized that the dollars we spend have no backing in actual wealth. What gives the dollar its power is perception. If we perceive the country as successful, the dollar is strong. If we perceive it as unsuccessful, the dollar is weak. I am no economist nor do I pretend to be. I know that I have just simplified the United States economy into three sentences and it is much more complicated than that but I find it remarkable that one of the biggest things that fuels our life, money, is based on perception.
After thinking about this for a moment, I realized that perception is what fuels almost all of our lives. I realized that oftentimes my perception of others keeps me from taking a step forward; from introducing myself and creating a connection. The other night, I went to a singles party, a terrifying experience for me for a number of reasons. But I let go of my fears and decided to step into a room I wouldn’t have dared step in a year ago. I had an open mind, ok not completely open but I went anyway. I noticed that I automatically perceived people as uninterested in talking to me, when that may or may not have been the case. My perception was that men at this party were only interested in thin, less intelligent un-opinionated women and I was not one of them. And then, holding on to my belief, I allowed myself to feel less than. I allowed myself to accept my perception of how others were viewing me regardless of the truth. Rather than being open to new experiences, I was ruled by my old way of thinking. I recently went to Arizona and I decided that while I was there I was going to live it up; take care of myself, dress nicely and really allow myself to feel good. I let go of my perceived insecurities and embraced myself as I am. It was liberating. I never had a better time in my whole life. Living in the moment and letting go of old perceptions opened me up to an experience I never thought I could have. The love and kindness I received in those two weeks were like nothing I had ever experienced in my whole life (not to mention the constant male attention). In letting go of my perception of the world I was open to new possibilities, and boy was it fun. What can we let go of in this moment so that we can meet new experiences and allow ourselves the freedom to embrace the moment without the fear of past insecurities? I offer you an opportunity to let go of the perceived obstacles and meet life with openness and freedom. You never know what will unfold. |
Rabbi Esther AzarArchives
May 2020
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