Way back in June, an e-mail landed in my inbox. “Calling all change-making justice-seeking Jews!” it read. “Join the AJWS-AVODAH Partnership for interactive workshops exploring how YOU can create YOUR own life worth living.”
I applied to be one of 18 students in this workshop because, for months, I felt both content and restless. I have no idea how you can feel both equally, but I did. I was hitting my stride with my job and feeling confident about my Jewish knowledge and networks, yet I obsessed about next steps without knowing how to take them, or where.
The class was based on a book of the same name. “Creating a Life Worth Living” would engage students in reflective discussions about a life and career that integrates Judaism and justice with personal and workplace fulfillment.
The teacher, a life coach named Laura Geduldig, was warm and grounded. She lived in Oakland and belonged to Temple Sinai. We, the students, shared a drive to make the world and ourselves better. We were activists, artists, educators, students, businessmen and writers.
Laura’s insight was complemented by lessons from Rabbi Dorothy Richman of Berkeley Hillel, who although a participant, also led us in Jewish text study. We read aloud passages from the Torah, Midrash and prayer books.
We talked about the significance of the first question in the Torah, when God asks Adam, “Where are you?” The question is perennial. We cannot move through life’s transitions without an inner compass to guide us and help us take responsibility for our direction.
After the first three sessions, we took a six-week hiatus and met again Sept. 3, the third day of the Hebrew month of Elul. Richman said there’s no better time to create a life worth living than during Elul — the 30 days preceding Rosh Hashanah, when we’re supposed to step back and look at ourselves critically and honestly, to pinpoint how we can improve in the coming year.
One of the cornerstones of Elul is teshuvah. The Hebrew word usually translates as “repentance,” though it also means “returning,” as in returning to God or mending a broken relationship. Rabbis have told me it also means turning.
Last year, I wrote a story about this and quoted Rabbi Katie Mizrahi, who said that teshuvah means that “sometimes you need to stay where you are and turn, changing your direction and perspective.”
Before this class, if God were to ask me, “Where are you?” I’d probably tell her I was thinking about studying for the GRE and looking at graduate programs and thinking about a new career. At one point, Laura heard me listing all of these grandiose ideas and asked: What if you put all of those things on hold and gave yourself one year to invest in the life you already have? What would that be like?
I had no clue. Since college, I have not kept a job nor lived in the same place for more than two years. When I feel restless, I move. It’s my default setting. But perhaps I could reprogram myself. Yom Kippur marks exactly two years of living and working in San Francisco. What will happen in the third?
To create a life worth living, I initially thought I needed to create big change in my own life and in the world. But as I ruminated on Laura’s idea, the fog in my brain cleared. I didn’t need to make a huge change to create a life worth living. I already had a life worth living.
This year, as I move through Elul, I am turning. I want to commit the year 5769 to making one small change: my attitude. Instead of looking ahead, I’m going to be here, now. I’m going to try to forget about big changes and instead focus on little ones, such as living healthier.
This class gave me precious time and space to reflect on where I am and where I want to go. Now I have a different answer to God’s query. Where am I? I am present, ready to accept all that life throws at me. Big changes can wait until next year.
What about you? Where are you, and where will you turn?
Stacey Palevsky lives in San Francisco. She can be reached at [email protected].