I’ve spent the past few weeks in a whirlwind and turmoil of activities and issues with my kids–primarily with one of them. I’ve done all the things a parent should and can do, sometimes receiving gratitude and love in return and sometimes receiving anger and requests to simply bud out totally. Parenting is a tough job.

However, their comes a time when you must step back and look at your children and ask yourself if they are ready…ready to fly on their own. Now, you may not really think they are ready, but in your heart you know you must let them.

My daughter…well…I know she is ready. She’s been ready. Yeah, she still asks for advice. And she takes it pretty well when I offer it. Sometimes she runs into problems, she doesn’t handle things well, but she knows it, learns from her mistakes, fixes them, and goes on.

My son, he’s had some learning disabilities that went undiagnosed and that caused me to be…well…let’s say more hands on with my parenting. But he’s at a cross roads now, and he really needs and wants to stand on his own two feet and make his own decisions…and take off. Whether I agree or not doesn’t matter. He really does need to fly solo. And he’s heading into a professional career at an early age, so he really wants to fly…and high.

I don’t believe parenting is about making our children dependent upon us. I believe it’s about creating independent individuals–even at a very young age. I always expected my kids to be able to entertain themselves, find solutions, handle their stuff, not expect me to be with them 24-7, deal with the bumps and bruises that came with life. In Judaism, we talk about the wisdom of a scraped knee…no reason to always run and wipe every tear; let them learn that it’s not so bad, and they can deal, they can get up and go on, learn and grow. They don’t need mama for everything.

But it’s hard not to run when they fall down, to save them when they need saving, to fix things for them, handle stuff when they don’t, especially in a crisis. But there comes a time…

So, today, on Mother’s Day, I’m relinquishing some of my mothering duties. Not all, because no mother ever gives up being a parent, and each kid is different–different age, different needs. But I can allow my children to become adults to the extent that they can or want to. I can step back and watch them spread their wings, flutter them around, and see if they take off and fly. I’ve surely taught them how. I’ve even pushed them out of the nest (gently, but pushed). Yes, indeed, I have.

And you know what? Letting my children fly gives me the freedom to do the same. Because when our children fly, we are released from some of our parenting duties and we can turn to some of the other things we care about passionately. We can flutter our wings and decide in what other directions we might like to fly.

On this Mother’s Day, I give myself permission to fly, too. How about you?

I’m spending the summer again in New York City with my son. Here, amidst the constant noise and motion, I find it difficult to focus. More than that I see how I am torn in too many directions each day. Because of that, nothing gets accomplished.

Let me rephrase that last sentence. Things get accomplished…little things. The big things don’t get done.

I finish articles when given a deadline. I write blog posts. I handle client work. The big projects–the stuff of my dreams and the visions for my business and my life–these get tabled or started and not finished.

I could focus upon these things, but the small things would likely fall to the wayside. And the small things are not unimportant. They just take less focus, less time, to accomplish.

Somehow here in the city, this all become so much more obvious so me as I watch the people moving quickly in so many different directions–much like my thoughts and my actions. Do you ever feel that way?

I think sometimes we have to stop and focus our days or our hours. I’ve been told over and over again to schedule my time better–to give each task, each project, a day or a time so I can focus upon it. I know that would work. I’ve struggled against this, feeling that I prefer to be lead by my muse and my spirit from task to task.

Starting next week, I will try to schedule my time better so the large and the small task receive equal focus. Maybe this will also open up more time to allow spirit and my muse to guide me.

What about you? Are you struggling to focus, and what will you do about it?

When you feel the desire to judge someone, remember that on the Kabbalistic Tree of Life, the sefirot of gevurah (judgment) lies opposite chesed (loving-kindness), so that these can balance each other. Thus, we never judge someone without tempering that judgement with love and kindness and we don’t offer love and kindness without the some perspective offered by judgment or discernment.

If you’ve never looked at the Tree of Life or the sefirot, you might want to do so. They are very interesting and provide great insight into many aspects of ourselves and how we are supposed to approach life.

Supposedly the Tree of Life constitutes a blueprint for all of creation. The sefirot represent Divine characteristics, yet we also contain these aspects since the blueprint lies within us as well.

We must strive to find a balance between the sefirot—to express them in just the right amount. In this case, we want to have not too much judgment and not too much loving kindness. Too much of either one becomes a character flaw. We want balance. Life is about balance.

Second day of Passover…on to the second symbol on the seder plate: zeroa, the lamb shank, which represents sacrifice. The zeroa symbolizes the Paschal lamb offered as the Passover sacrifice in the ancient Temple. Getting away from the idea of communal sacrifice, I am thinking about personal sacrifice now.

Thus, I ask myself: What will I sacrifice to create positive change in my life?

I must sacrifice some sleep! There never seem to be enough hours in the day to get everything done, so when I think about doing the work I want to do in the world and on myself to create change, I fear I will have to sacrifice sleep. (I am willing, however, to entertain the thought that I can create change in my life that allows for me to do all I want and need to do and still sleep 7-8 hours per night! I’d like to create that positive change in my life…truly!)

I might also have to sacrifice being at home as much. I might have to go out into the world more. I won’t be able to be a hermit. Neither will I be able to remain a bud; I’ll have to bloom for all the world to see.

I’m actually struggling as I write this with the idea of sacrifice. Once I got past the sleep part and wanting to change that thought, I decided that I’d rather have the thought that nothing had to be sacrificed to create positive change. Sacrifice carries such a negative connotation. I’d like to create change in my life in an easy and effortless manner.

The next question I ask myself is: What am I sacrificing in my life that I don’t want to be sacrificing?

This seems easier to answer. I don’t want to sacrifice sleep! I don’t want to sacrifice time away from my family or the things I enjoy doing.

Currently, I feel I am struggling to create change in my life—to become successful, to become more intuitive, to pursue a spiritual path, to improve my relationships—and each time I add something into my life, something gets sacrificed. I feel I’ve actually sacrificed a lot.

By putting so much time into my family, I’ve sacrificed my own pursuits—spirituality, metaphysics, personal growth, horseback riding, cycling, etc. This means I haven’t created the change I wanted personally and I’ve eliminated activities I love from my life.  By focusing so much on doing what it takes to be a successful writer (promotion, marketing, etc.), I’ve sacrificed my writing and not finished the projects I started and in which I believed. In the process, I sacrificed some success as a writer. By focusing on earning a living rather than on fulfilling my life’s purpose, I have sacrificed a fulfilling career about which I feel passionate—and I’ve achieved less success.

Zeroa means “arm” in Hebrew, representing God’s “mighty hand and outstretched arm” that freed the Israelites’ from slavery. As I think about zeroa, therefore, I also ask myself: How do I see God’s hand at play in my life?

Ah….I see God’s hand at play in my life constantly. I see God’s hand in my life when an opportunity comes my way; I look back at my life and can understand with hindsight how events have brought me to this moment; a fortune cookie offers me the perfect fortune; a find myself in the right place at the right time; life seems to flow perfectly; words appear on paper magically; I find a flower blooming in my garden despite the fact I’ve left it untended; I see a rainbow when I feel hopeless; a hear good news; and oh, so many other times. I am constantly striving to see God’s hand in my life…and to reach out to hold it.

Again…your turn to answer the questions.

To read all the Passover questions I’ve posed, please visit this column and this one. You don’t have to be Jewish to answer them either; they pertain to anyone and everyone.

Have you ever had one of those days–or several days–when you feel so busy and stressed that you don’t think you can take a moment to breathe? And the more stressed you get, the worse your day gets? As your stress level goes up, your success rate plummets. Everything just seems to go wrong. Well, I’ve had two of those.

Then I remembered what someone told me recently. They said, “When your day is going badly, take a bath with salt and lavender in the water. Your whole day will change.”

So, guess what? Despite the fact that I still had a ton of work, and I’ve been up until all hours for several nights in a row and I haven’t had a day off  in ages, I took her advice. Even better, first I put on my sneakers and I went for a walk. Then I came home, ran a hot bath (with some salt and lavender oil in the water) and climbed on in! I soaked and meditated for about 10 minutes.

When I got out, I did feel a lot better. If nothing else, I felt that I had cared for myself–and that I had found to do so. I also felt more relaxed and centered. This made more more able to face the tasks I still needed to handle.

Recently I’ve read in several books and magazines on different topics how we must practice radical self care. I definitely don’t do this. And when we get in a cycle of working too much, getting too stressed, and feeling as if there just aren’t enough hours in the day (let alone minutes), the best thing we can do is remind ourselves that we can, indeed, find time for ourselves.

The more harried and stressed we become, the more it feels like we don’t have a minute to spare, the more we need to take a few minutes for ourselves. Remember that. I will, too.

Just

Years ago I read the book  The Path of Least Resistance by Robert Fritz. I haven’t thought about the basic concept embedded in the book’s title in many years. Today, however, I gave in to that concept.

I’ve been fighting…resisting…doing anything but what I thought I needed to do. “I have work,” I have thought. “I have responsibilities. I have deadlines.” Yet, other things have called to me as well–some of them also responsibilities or necessities of life. Yet I resisted taking action on them.

Today, I gave in. I decided I must simply do what lies before me. I must take the path of least resistance.I must do what I feel pulled to do, inclined to do, or what simply has to be done next without worry about the rest. I must follow a natural path rather than one I construct, since the one I construct feels to restrictive and difficult tomaneuver through.

I have family visiting. Even though I am not spending much time with them and they aren’t taking me away from my work in the least, I’ve been struggling to get work done. Today I decided I would simply just do what I could do and no more with no worry or stress.

Tomorrow, I have a truckload of mulch coming and two women who will plant flowers for me on a hillside. I need to save some money, and so I need to help them mulch and plant to save time. (Time=money) My husband and eldest son can help as well. However, to do this I have to give up work for most of the day. I’ve been saying for weeks that I could not do this. I would simply have to pay the price of having someone else do the work. Today I decided I would go outside and work alongside the others.

In fact, my soul longs to get outside in the sun and to put my hands in the ground. I pulled a few weeds the other day, and it felt so good!

I did a reading for someone today. I told this person he wasn’t taking care of himself , getting out into nature where he can feel awe, not rejuvenating so he has something to give back. Hmmmm. This sounds like advice I should take for myself.

How many of us spend too many long hours in front of a computer or behind a desk? How many of us need to revive our souls with some time with Mother Nature and a talk with our Father? I suggested this person take a walk and talk to God. I think I’ll stop resisting and simply do what I really need to do… In Judaism we call it hitbodedut: I’ll walk in nature and talk to the Creator of all I see around me.

Then tomorrow I’ll get out there and do some gardening. I’ll put my hands in the dirt, and I’ll worry about work later.

I’m determined to put spiritual practice back into my life. I’ve been struggling for a year at least to find the time for a sustainable practice. I know…I teach and write about practical spirituality, by which I mean short, easy, sustainable practices that fit into our busy lives. However, I have failed to practice what I preach. I have not even made myself touch the mezzuzah on the door as I enter my home or say a prayer upon going to bed or arising in the morning.

For the last two weeks, however, I have been trying to “do better.” I’ve seen that mezuzzah and touched it and said the Shema. I’ve taken my Ipod with me when I walk, and I’ve listened to spiritual music and prayers. For example, I enjoy listening to Kabblah Kirtan by Yofiyah and doing the kirtan practice with her. I also enjoy listening to Rabbi Shefa Gold’s CDs, and I switch back and forth from one chant to another as I walk and chant along creating my own service, if you will.

This morning I was feeling frustrated and angry for a variety of reasons, one of which was that I would not have time to walk and pray. So, I turned my Ipod on and did morning prayers with Rabbi David Cooper and his wife, Shoshana, as I chanted along to their CD, Songs of Prayer and Silence. I definitely felt better afterwards, and I felt I had managed to fit in a spiritual practice. Maybe I did it at an odd time and in an odd place, but I don’t know why my car can’t become a mishkan, a sacred space, if I make it so.  Indeed, it can and it was.

Spirituality, and spiritual connection to our Source, isn’t necessarily something that has to take a long time or be done at the same time each day. We can fit it into our lives and make it part of our lives simply with the intention to do so and a consciousness that allows us to find the Divine in all sorts of places, actions, relationships, sounds, smells. God is everywhere and in everything. So, making our daily lives into a spiritual practice really shouldn’t be that difficult if we simply turn our attention to God and to all things spiritual.

It may feel like a struggle to find time for your spiritual practice. I may still have days when I feel frustrated that I haven’t had time to light incense and sit and meditate and pray. However, I can have a spirit-filled day if I turn my attention to spirit every minute of that day. God dwells in the moment anyway. I need only be in the moment with God at all moments of the day to have a spiritual practice.

I’ve been in New York City for just about six weeks now. Although I was born in Manhattan, I grew up at the base of the Catskill Mountains. With the exception of this summer, I live in the Santa Cruz Mountains in California. In fact, I’ve lived most of my life in the suburbs or in the country.

It’s no wonder then that the thing that bothers me the most about living in the city is the noise. I can’t wait to get home to the relative silence of the mountains. I know I don’t live in a place without sound. The birds constantly sing; the squirrels never stop chattering. I can hear a car or truck now and then on the road below my house. And sometimes, if I’m lucky, I hear a hawk, horned owl or a coyote. However, these sounds are pleasing to the ear. The city sounds — sirens, horns, screeching tires, jackhammers, people talking and yelling, homeless people sorting through trash, boom boxes blaring music, subway trains, buses and trucks — are not pleasing to the ear.

I wish I could be like the boy in the movie August Rush, who heard music in everything. then I could live in the city and hear a symphony all the time, and that would be pleasing to the ear. Instead, I hear a caucophony of sounds that doesn’t bother me most of the time — well, the sirens do hurt the ears — but which seem to be wearing on me little by little. I can’t explain how it wears on me, but I can sense a growing need for silence.

I’ve tried entering one of the beautiful churches around the city. They tend to be locked during the day. On the weekends they are filled with people.

I wonder if the sound pollution explains why so many people listen to their Ipods as they walk around the city. It’s a way to protect themselves from the noise intrusion. I haven’t tried that; maybe I should.

In any case, I’m looking forward to the sound of silence…or something close to silence…when I get home. Maybe this experience in New York City will push me to meditate more often, to go inward and really seek silence.

I encourage you to think about the amount of noise in your day and how you can find an oasis of silence in that noise. I’m sure that, like me, you’ll find it helps you stay balanced, focused, and more in touch with your essence — your soul — and with Source. It’s hard to hear God, that Still Small Voice, when theirs so much noise.

Today I weeded another section of my extremely large garden. Every spring it becomes totally overgrown with weeds. If I’m not quick, they become shoulder high or taller and go to seed. This year, I got to the job too late.

Actually, I have way too many other things going on in my life to worry about the garden. I won’t even be around most of the summer, so I don’t plan on planting anything new. I just wanted the weeds gone and the sprinklers set up.

Besides, last summer the sprinklers went on the fritz without me knowing it and many plants died. Also, the gophers found a lof of other plants extremely tasty and ate them while I wasn’t watching.  That’s what happens when you are too busy to tend to a garden. Gardens need care and attention.

As I was pulling weed after weed and bemoaning the loss of so many beautiful plants, I began thinking about Shavuot. I was asked to teach during the all night learning session at Chadeish Yameinu, my Jewish Renewal community, but I declined. I had been up until 2 a.m. two nights in a row, and they wanted me to teach at 2 a.m. I couldn’t do it. So, I didn’t even attend.

Shavuot marked just one more holiday I have missed, one more Jewish event I have not attended, one more day when I have not been able to focus on my spiritual practice or on my spiritual or religious studies. It marked one more day when I was too busy to pay attention to the garden of my soul.

Like any garden that goes untended, the garden of my soul also has begun to grow weeds and the plants ahve begun to die. I’ve forgotten some of the lessons I once knew, and bad habits, like gophers, have begun to live there and kill off the good habits. This has happened because I’m not paying attention; I’m not focusing on keeping the garden healthy and thriving.

It’s time for me to make time to weed, till, fertilize, plant, water, prune the garden of my soul. It’s time for me to take time — make time — for the spiritual side of my life once again.

For it’s the soul that actually gives us life. Without that, we become like a plant a gopher has eaten. The unseen part – our roots – are gnawed away, and the seen part – our body — withers away and dies.

Yes, it’s time to begin weeding the garden of my soul and then tending to it with love and care. How about you?

The current economy has many people feeling as if they are constantly falling into an endless financial hole, the unknown territory of joblessness, the fear-filled arena of homelessness, or simply a world of many unknowns and thus, much uncertainty. In our current times, few of us are free of some effects-real or perceived-of the recession,  but we can find a way to look at our current circumstances in a way that offers us a different perspective on the situation-a way to help ourselves feel a bit more stable and balanced.

I’d like to call your attention to a teaching offered to me by Rabbi Eddie Sukol of The Shul in Ohio. He had the privilege of studying with Rabbi and Dr. Elliot Ginsburg, associate professor of Jewish Thought at the University of Michigan, at a conference of Jewish renewal rabbis. (I have also studied with Prof. Ginsburg, I am happy to say.) During Rabbi Sukol’s class, Prof. Ginsburg shared an insight about walking that I think we might find useful today if we can remember it every day. Indeed, if we remember it each time we take a step forward throughout our day it is bound to help us overcome our fear and uncertainty.

Prof. Ginsburg explains that walking is really the act of falling and catching ourselves, falling and catching ourselves, over and over again. Think about that as you walk. Consider how you never (or rarely) allow yourself to fall. You take a step and lean forward, defying gravity by righting yourself rather then continuing your downward motion. The force of gravity pulls you downward, but you manage with each step to fight against it and straighten up-only to go through the same motion again.

Rabbi Sukol says the manner in which we move, or ambulate, provides us with “a metaphor for the ebb and flow of our life. We step forward, we stumble, we catch and right ourselves, and we keep moving.”

This may ring all the more true for many of us today. Some days we may feel ourselves stumbling and falling-at least emotionally-more than usual…maybe in conjunction with the movement of the stock market or with the fluctuation of funds in our bank account or with the state of job security where we work. We may try different things to help ourselves through these difficult times only to find that we flounder and fall and must pick ourselves up, or maybe we can catch ourselves just prior to hitting the ground.

However, if we remember that we move through life always falling and catching ourselves, heading downward but righting ourselves, defying the forces of nature, and moving forward again, we will realize that we can keep moving forward. We will know that we are able to handle these tough and uncertain times. We need only keep on walking, keep on moving forward one step at a time.

That said…I’m posting this on a Friday, so I’d also like to suggest that we stop walking, stop moving, and simply stand still for a while. In the process of doing so, we allow ourselves to regain our balance. That, too, can provide an essential tool for feeling stable, for it allows us to connect with our inner navigation system-our soul-and to a highter one as well-God.

For more on this subject, watch this video. America’s #1 rabbi, Rabbi David Wolpe, speaks about Shabat on the Jewish TV Network.

(Note: I would like to thank Rabbi Sukol (and Prof. Ginsburg) for his teaching, originally related to Parshat Shemot.)