Rosh Hashanah: The Old, The New, The In Between

Rosh Hashana this year sprung out of nowhere. Like a surprise newspaper headline that tells you what you already knew yet still surprises you, the New Year showed up, once more, on schedule. Whether we’re ready for it, it truly pays no mind.

As I think about the past 12 months, I couldn’t for one minute imagine in September 2013 what was to happen between then and now. Sure, lots was planned. Back then I had my exit strategy in full force: packing, closing up shop and ending relationships with people that just no longer held space in my heart or mind. Some of these friendships will never once, again, be what they once were. But, then, does anyone really stay the same?

I’m grateful for the adventure, the discovery and the shift it had within me.  I fell in love in Dublin. The heart healed and suddenly the spectrum of life revealed colors that I never knew existed. It wasn’t about a man, you see. It was about the clarity of things. The peace. The calm. The goodness that only comes when you finally feel your own soul and acknowledge that what was once tolerable will never be again.

When you finally fall in love – with life – you set the bar: that nothing and no one is allowed in unless there’s something to love there.

So, yes, I’m back in the same city, teaching at the same university and living in the same apartment building. But the person doing all these things isn’t the same.  And, as a result, life in September 2014 vs. September 2013 resides on a different plane. It’s a higher plane. Which means it’s less crowded, less busy and operates on less distractions. If Socrates once said, “Beware the barrenness of a busy life,” then the opposite is just as true. Beware the fullness of a quiet life. It makes those around you very suspicious and uncomfortable. Few can truly understand the contentment that happens when you shut off the noise of the voices and activities and stuff that no longer hold an ounce of value.

In all this shift, tragedy did occur. In Fall 2013, the world lost an angel on earth. A friend since childhood and a cousin by association, Greshon Burd lost his life, on his 40th birthday, shocking and numbing those of us who thought we knew him. We quickly learned we didn’t know him at all. While the rest of us were busy drowning our lives in the distractions of others’ expectations, he gave of himself, miracle upon miracle, to those who had nothing. And he did all this anonymously, with love, passion and a sense of humor that projected in his great and warm laugh. Just last night I heard from Jon, Gershon’s soul brother, as well as Gershon’s Mom and even his Sister. Yesterday, on the eve of New Year eve, all of us were thinking about Gershon. Really, none of us ever stopped thinking about him. He never stopped thinking about any of us. His very last message to me was the email he sent me exactly a year ago, from Israel, sharing his warm wishes and prayers for Rosh Hashana and the year ahead. Some people we choose to walk away from. And yet when others suddenly leave, too soon, way, way too soon, for no logical reason, that sense of loss your heart carries forever.

It also holds you accountable. To be better. To be kinder. To be more giving. To step up and be there for someone you may barely know in the most compassionate way possible. Because they may be facing demons that they themselves don’t have the strength to face alone. And so you sit there with them and stretch out your hand and you do this expecting nothing in return. You just hope someone will be there for you when it’s your turn at earth’s purgatory.

If the past twelve months were about closing the windows, doors and gates of all those emotions and thoughts and behaviors that kept intercepting the wholeness of truth, then I hope that the following year will lead to the Autobahn of life. Four decades is a long time to have lived broken.

As the year unfolds, my one and true prayer is one of peace. Peace in our hearts. Peace with our families. Peace with our neighbors. Peace in Chicago. Peace in Kiev. Peace in Jerusalem. Peace in the World.

The wars we face today are not ours. They originated over 150 years ago and we’re still fighting them. Not only politically, geographically and historically. But, far, far deeper than we could ever imagine. My Body Talk healer Kris once worked with me on cleansing out my DNA trauma. IE, the tragedies our ancestors witnessed and experienced pass through our bloodline. Medical science is finally proving this to be true. And, so, as the New Year awaits while the world is at war and as human compassion gives way to the insensate life of pings and clicks and likes, to have hope and to have real life understanding the initial step must come from within. Before there’s to be judgement of how others aren’t living their lives according to our standards and before one more venomous Facebook comment creeps into an unrelated post of nothing but goodwill, perhaps it’s just time to breathe?

Each day I stand on my balcony and watch a couple of hawks circle over the bells of St. James I watch them, flying over the trees, above the crowds, then returning back to the top of the bells and silently and patiently sitting there, absorbing the sun and the lake breeze. These hawks? They don’t wage wars, they don’t judge and they don’t perpetuate any sort of insecurity. No. They are beautiful, graceful, confident and strong. As I watch them glide against the sky, I feel a calm that can’t be replicated. A part of me wants to be that hawk.

And then it hits me, I’ve lived most of 2014 as that hawk. I’ve flown, I’ve kept it light and I was free.

I am free.

Shana Tova. Shalom.