
(Last in a series on Jewish Mindfulness)
After seven glorious days vacationing in the majestic beauty of the central California coast, my husband and I were completely rejuvenated. Every step taken among the redwood groves of Big Sur, every barefoot step along the pebbly beaches, restored us body and soul. My energy had been flagging for weeks before the trip, but I felt my health and essence returning to me each day. We both needed this vacation.
We braced ourselves for the long drive home because we were heading into a lashing rainstorm. We recited Tefillat Haderech (the travelers’ prayer) with extra intensity and drove the safest route possible. Still, the final two hours behind the wheel were stressful and occasionally harrowing. We pulled into our driveway, grateful for our safe arrival, only to discover that part of our home had flooded. We put on waterproof shoes and started bailing water.
Vacation was over!
With its indescribable beauty and calm, Big Sur had been Mindfulness Central. I sat along the river in the stillness, truly being in the moment, and watched the clear water flow over the smooth rocks. Time spent in nature is therapeutic. No wonder most relaxation apps feature sounds and videos of nature: Rainfall, birds singing, rolling ocean waves, even thunder (which I, personally, would not find quite so calming). If you can travel to a gorgeous state park, quiet lake, or even a pleasant local park, go.
Mopping up from the unwelcome tidewaters at home, the tranquility of our vacation melted, replaced by tension and exhaustion. When we finally finished cleaning up, I knew that mindful breathing alone wouldn’t cut it to help me relax. I popped a friendly white Xanax and eventually fell asleep.
It’s human nature to focus on the difficult or painful thing that’s going on in your life even if ten other things are going really well. Jeff and I may have been water-logged and facing the prospect of expensive home repairs, but we were also determined not to allow this domestic crisis to “wash out” the psychological high from our week spent in nature. We decided to hang the wall art we had bought on our trip right away: A flutter of butterflies crafted of metalwork in shimmering shades of blue. It greets us in the kitchen and instantly conjures positive feelings and memories of our vacation.
Before our trip I had already planned a final column in this series to focus on the connection between mindfulness and happiness. Having been storm-tossed unceremoniously from harmony into stress gave me a stark realization: The same fundamental mindfulness concepts apply equally whether managing emotional pain or maximizing happiness. For example, mindfulness teaches that we can create our reality by choosing our focus. As I wrote in the third column in this series, “Managing Emotional Pain Through Acceptance,” we must acknowledge painful or difficult feelings — not repress them. But we have the power to choose to send them away when they do not serve us. The more we practice this, the easier it will be to maintain a positive attitude and to feel happy.
Judaism teaches that happiness is a cultivate mindset. Dr. David Pelcovitz, Professor of Psychology at Yeshiva University, observes that the word “happiness” is etymologically linked to words such as “happenstance,” “haphazard,” or even “mishap,” suggesting happiness is random, a roll of the dice. Pelcovitz, also the author of “Life in the Balance: Torah Perspectives on Positive Psychology”, contrasts this with the Jewish word for happiness, simcha, which is comprised of two words, sham-moach – literally, it’s there in your brain. During interviews, Pelcovitz has noted our society’s high rates of “affluenza,” the phenomenon of wealthy people being distinctly unhappy. “Once basic needs are met, there is no correlation between wealth and happiness,” he has said. “Being truly happy is really more about a state of mindfulness.” He adds that we can boost our happiness by taking control over our time and focus, and not letting life yank us around by the chain. This includes taking the time to sit down and write down our goals for the future.
Another cornerstone of mindfulness is staying in the moment, but Harvard researchers Matthew Killingsworth and Daniel Gilbert have found that nearly half of our thoughts are unrelated to what we are doing, and these distractions seriously depress happiness. In other words, a wandering mind is an unhappy mind. The 13th century sage Rabbeinu Bachya knew this, saying, “Hashem, save me from the fragmentation of my soul.” Apparently, this is not a new problem. Shabbat ideally provides that mindfulness opportunity to step back and reorient our spirit and psyche.
In Judaism, happiness is not an end in itself. It results from the combination of a keeping a positive attitude, choosing to focus on the good, having faith in God and His goodness, learning from difficult situations or mistakes, refusing to feel like a victim, taking time for quiet contemplation, and constant gratitude. These are also the qualities and mindfulness practices that help us handle difficult times as well.
Since beginning this mindfulness journey I have gained the most from my gratitude journal. It surprised me how many things I could feel grateful for when I stopped to consider them: Finishing a column; making a nice Shabbat meal; hearing from a friend who wanted to check in; waking up and feeling refreshed. These are conscious acts of mindful gratitude that reinforce feelings of positivity.
Overall, I have learned that from mindful breathing to acknowledging feelings, choosing our thought patterns, and emphasizing gratitude, a little bit goes a long way. I’ll never master mindfulness, but I’m glad I’m now on the road to more conscious, present living.
I admit that I stopped journaling for more than two weeks when I got so busy with family that I just … didn’t do it. It was a mindful challenge enough to have a house full of very young grandchildren underfoot, and for one weekend, 10 of them! I had a bounty of blessings to feel thankful for, but by the end of the day I was too tired to write them down. This was okay — mindfulness also teaches self-forgiveness when you can’t achieve what you wanted to achieve, and when you wanted to achieve it. Overall, I have learned that from mindful breathing to acknowledging feelings, choosing our thought patterns, and emphasizing gratitude, a little bit goes a long way. I’ll never master mindfulness, but I’m glad I’m now on the road to more conscious, present living.
Judy Gruen is the author of several books, including “The Skeptic and the Rabbi: Falling in Love With Faith.” Her next book, “Bylines and Blessings,” will be published in February 2024.