Do you ever question your beliefs about Your religion? Do you question God’s word, the value of the commandments, the teachings of the forefathers, the meaning of the rituals and prayers?

They say the Jewish people are God wrestlers. We don’t always accept God’s word or anything to do with our religion without questions, without wanting to understand why, without pondering the value, the validity, the truth of what we are told or asked to do.

Yet, Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Hindu, or some other religion, sometimes we get stuck in fear—fear that if we don’t listen to God’s word, believe every single word we hear and do as those words command—something bad might happen. We might be struck down by lightning, fall from grace, not live another year, not receive God’s goodness. Then we stop wrestling with God.

It takes a lot to move out of that fear and to begin questioning again, wrestling again.

I was pleased this week to find a current example of someone who moved through that fear and began God wrestling—and did so in the public eye. I read in a JTA article that Chassidic reggae musician and singer Matisyahu publicly shaved off his beard and peyes and uploaded a picture of himself clean shaven on Twitter on December 13. Along with it, he posted this message:

“This morning I posted a photo of myself on Twitter.

“No more Chassidic reggae superstar.

“Sorry folks, all you get is me…no alias. When I started becoming religious 10 years ago it was a very natural and organic process. It was my choice. My journey to discover my roots and explore Jewish spirituality—not through books but through real life. At a certain point I felt the need to submit to a higher level of religiosity…to move away from my intuition and to accept an ultimate truth. I felt that in order to become a good person I needed rules—lots of them—or else I would somehow fall apart. I am reclaiming myself. Trusting my goodness and my divine mission.”

The next day, December 14, the JTA ran another story. In it he explained this decision in more detail during an interview WNYC’s Soundcheck. He began growing his beard when he became religious. The decision not to shave was based on a teaching from Kabbalah that the beard is a manifestation of the 13 divine attributes of mercy, he explained. (Learn about the 13 Attributes here.) He feared that if he were to shave the beard, he would no longer be privy to those blessings of mercy.

Recently, however, he asked himself, “How can [God’s mercy] possibly be connected to me shaving or not? And I began, over the last few weeks, I went through a pretty major transformation, probably bigger than any in my life, due to several things, but a lot of revelations and a lot of realizations started coming clear to me, and I realized just like these fears that I have, the idea that God’s mercy is connected to whether I shave or not is ludicrous. And I just need to trust myself, and that if I’m deserving of God’s mercy, I’ll get it regardless.”

That’s a big jump…to trust your own goodness and to trust God to be merciful whether you follow His commandments or not. Orthodox, or observant, Jews, live within the confines of God’s laws, God’s mitzvot. They offer structure. They offer a way of life. They offer a means by which to be a good Jew, a mensch.

Yet, here we see someone coming out of that world and saying, “I think I can be a mensch, I think I can be a good person, a spiritual and religious person deserving of God’s grace and mercy without observing every single mitzvah—every commandment.”

And haven’t those of us who are not that religious wondered what would happen—in the reverse—if I suddenly became more observant? Would God be more gracious, more merciful? Would my prayers be answered?

But maybe it’s simply about being a good person, about being deserving—beard or no beard.

What about you? Do you wrestle with God? Do you question your beliefs? And do you occasionally shave  (or have you ever shaved) your beard—metaphorical or real—to see what might happen?

Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, usually falling near the end of summer. Based on a lunar calendar, the dates of Ramadan vary, moving backwards about ten days each year. This year Ramadan begins on August 11th and continue for 30 days until September 9th. In North America, it begins on August 12th. The holiday’s start depends upon “sightability” of the new moon.

During Ramadan Muslims participating in the holiday refrain from eating from morning until evening – in other words they fast each day. They also refrain from drinking and behavior that is in excess or ill-natured. For 30 days Muslims ask forgiveness for past sins, pray for guidance and help in refraining from everyday evils, and try to purify themselves through self-restraint and good deeds. More specifically, they are expected to put more effort into following the teachings of Islam and to purify both thoughts and actions. The fast is intended to be an exacting act of deep personal worship in which Muslims seek a raised awareness of closeness to God as well as a purification of themselves personally.

Muslims are expected to put a lot more effort into the teaching of Islam in general–primarily into the worship of God, into their prayers and into purifying themselves. Yet, it’s just as important to be helpful to and caring of others, which is why they are extra charitable with their time and wealth during the month of Ramadan. It’s a time of reflection and a time of God consciousness and when Muslims give whatever they have and the best of what they have.

While observing these traditions during the month of Ramadan represents a Muslim tradition, the rituals and practices actually are pertinent to anyone from any religious or spiritual background–even Jews. In fact, many of these practices are similar in nature to Jewish practices during the Jewish High Holy Days. Here are five ways that people who don’t follow Islam can take this month-long religious observance and use its principles or practices in their own life.

1. Use the month-long spiritual observance idea. Anything you do for 30 or 40 days helps you develop a new habit. So, if you want to develop a new spiritual practice or to deepen your spiritual practice, doing something for 30 days will help you achieve that goal.
2. Review a sacred texts. Jews, Christians and Muslims do this. Jews read the whole Torah each year. Muslims read the whole Quran during Ramadan. Studying sacred texts is a great way to deepen connection to God, to your religion, and to learn about your spiritual and religious beliefs. Rereading these texts over and over again allows you to learn something knew each time. Each reading you see something knew, find a new teaching, get a new insight, read from a new perspective. So, the text speaks to you differently each time…God speaks to you differently each time.
3. Take on a practice related to charity or giving for 30 days on a daily basis. We could all use a reminder to be more charitable and giving; Ramadan offers that reminder. Actually giving charity or performing acts of giving time and energy on a regular basis, as in daily for thirty days is a great idea. Again, doing this for 30 or 40 days will make it a habit, will put it into your consciousness so you hardly think about it. Obligatory giving is an interesting concept…to do it because you are supposed to—not because it makes you feel good, because it’s the right thing to do, because you’ve been commanded to do so—not because you are going to get something. Islam also teaches that when you give you get…you will be rewarded. That’s another reason to give. Additionally, Islam teaches that giving deepens your faith in God and your belief that God provides–especially if you give even when you aren’t sure you have enough yourself.
4. Make time for personal introspection, prayer, review of your life, deeds, relationships, etc. This is a wonderful practice. It’s great to do it more than once a year. You can do it on the secular New Year, at the New Moon, on Ramadan, on the Sabbath, every Wednesday…or pick a month any month. Just pick a time and do it…Jews do it for 10 days. Muslims do it for a month, which seems like a long time. If you don’t think you can do it for that long, do it for a weekend. But do it.
5. Fasting if you are physically able. Many people do find this very cleansing on a spiritual level. Focus all your thoughts on spiritual things and not on the physical. Jews do it from sundown to sundown. It’s much easier to do from sunup to sundown like Muslims. Some people allow themselves water. Pick your method. But try it. You might find it quite cleansing and purifying. Many spiritual traditions use this ritual or practice.

I think any of these rituals or practices can be adapted to someone’s existing religious or spiritual tradition. Some of these may exist in your religious tradition already because they are fairly universal, but Islam gives a few of them a unique twist. In any case, we can see how much the Islamic observance of Ramadan (or almost any religious holiday) can teach and offer all of us.

Have you ever heard the saying, “Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it”? Sometimes the wish is fulfilled in usual ways. You have to be open to seeing the wish fulfilled no matter in what form it appears and to receive it even if it comes in a shape you didn’t expect or in a manner you might not really want. After all, a wish granted is God’s hand at work in your life. It’s not much different than a miracle performed.

At the beginning of the Jewish New Year I said I wanted to pursue my spiritual studies by attending a weekly Torah study class. However, my life, or rather my schedule, once again did not allow this to happen.

I have recently cut back on how much nonfiction book editing I am doing; I’ve hired a staff of editors to do it for me, so I can pursue my writing. Recently, though, a manuscript came across my desk that I knew was meant for me to edit. It’s a year’s worth of Torah commentaries.

Each year Jews read the whole Torah. We also read commentaries on the portions for each week. We study them. We figure out what they mean. We try to apply them to our lives. This book has a special focus on applying the teachings of each Torah portion to our lives.

This book offers me a way back into my religious and spiritual study. I wished for it. I got it…even if it means taking on the editing myself.

Have you wished for something and gotten it?

On the right doorpost of almost every Jewish home you will find a small rectangular box positioned on a slight angle. This box serves as a reminder to live by God’s commandments.

Everyone can benefit from a spiritual yellow “post-it” note of some sort to remind them to live a spiritual or religious life, and that’s the purpose a mezuzah serves. So, while today I’m writing about a mezuzah, remember that if you aren’t Jewish you want to implement something that fulfills the purpose of the mezuzah in your life. This tradition may come from Judaism, but it works as a practical spiritual tool that can be adapted by anyone from any religion or spiritual tradition to fit their needs.

Jews have a mezuzah on their doorpost because the Torah commands them to affix one on each doorpost of their homes. While some Jews have it just on the front door, others have it on every doorpost outside and inside (with the exception of the bathroom).

Many people think the mezuzah is the actual box on the doorpost. Actually, the mezuzah is the piece of parchment inside the box. On this parchment are two chapters from the Torah written in Hebrew by hand. The parchment is rolled into a scroll, wrapped in paper or plastic, inserted into the box, and affixed to the doorpost.

The essence of the mitzvah, or commandment of the mezuzah revolves around the concept of the Oneness of God. The first verse written on the mezuzah is the Shema, the most important prayer in Judaism, which says,  “Hear, oh Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.” When observant Jews pass a doorpost that holds a mezuzah, they touch the mezuzah (or the box that holds the scroll) and remember that God is One. They also remember that God is one with them, and that God asks them to live in a certain manner and by certain laws, or rules. Touching the mezuzah in passing―when leaving the house (or a room) or when arriving back home (or entering a room) also reminds them that the Torah offers instructions for living. It actually tells Jews how to actualize their human potential, how to have good relationships, and how to find happiness, meaning and fulfillment.

With the ritual of touching the mezuzah when going through a doorway, Jews are reminded of these spiritual or religious instructions for living. The mezuzah serves as a permanent post-it note stuck onto the door. It’s a reminder to live a spiritual and/or religious life. It’s a reminder to think about God. It’s a reminder to connect with God. The mezuzah is a bit like God’s writing on the wall saying, “Hey, remember me and my teachings on your way out into the world and your way back into your home. Remember…as you pass from room to room in your home.”

In this way, the Jewish tradition demonstrates how to make Jewish values an everyday part of our lives. However, it’s easy to walk by the mezuzah and not notice it. It’s also easy to walk by, kiss your fingers and touch it–the way Jews traditionally complete the ritual, without thinking about why you do so. Don’t do it by rote. Do it with thought. Don’t look at that yellow post-it note and walk by so quickly that you don’t read the words written on it. If you do, you will have missed the point of the spiritual practice–and the message.

If you aren’t Jewish, find some way to mimic this practical spiritual tool. You could put anything on your doorpost instead of an actual mezuzah–a small ceramic tile, a stenciled flower, a painted symbol, a crystal, or even a yellow post-it note. You might even want to affix a small box with your favorite prayer inside. Then use it in the same manner. Touch it as you go in and out of the house. Put something on each doorpost inside your home as well, and touch these as you move around your house. Have these serve as reminders to connect with the Source and to live a more spiritually attuned life.

If you are Jewish and you have a mezuzah on your door, I suggest you begin touching it as you come and go from your home. Each time, think about the way in which you would like to connect with God and live your life spiritually. Use it as a reminder to connect and to live spiritually. If you haven’t put a mezuzah on your door, do so and begin this practice. It’s so quick and easy. It takes absolutely no extra time. (You can find all the information you need about hanging the mezuzah online; there is a ritual for doing so. Or ask someone at the Judaica shop or temple where you buy the mezuzah to instruct you on the proper way to hang a mezuzah.)

The mezuzah offers one of the quickest, easiest and most effective practical spiritual tools available, and no reason exists for it to remain only a Jewish ritual. It’s way too powerful for that. So today, place something on your doorpost to help you live a more spiritual or religious life.

Starting today, about once a week you will find a practical spiritual practice here on As the Spirit Moves Me. The tip may come from the Jewish tradition or from other major religious tradition, such as from Christianity, Islam, or Buddhism. These practical spiritual practices are meant to be adaptable by anyone, and they also are meant to be quick and easy spiritual practices–things you can do in under 10 minutes per day. I hope you enjoy them and find them useful.

Jews have a practice of saying 100 blessings a day. Included in those blessings is a blessing said when washing hands. This may seem like a strange blessing to say, but I find it practical and meaningful. Plus, it’s a blessing anyone from any tradition can use. Here’s why.

When Jews wash their hands and say the blessing, we literally raise our hands up while doing so. When I was taught this blessing, I was told that we do this to remind ourselves to use our hands in service of the Source of creation. If you reminded yourself of this every time you washed your hands, you’d spend a lot of time considering how you use your hands…to complete work, to cook, to help a child button a shirt or tie shoes, to drive a car, to make love to your wife, to plant a flower, to write a check, etc.

In Hebrew, the words of the prayer are: Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melech ha-olam asher kidishanu b’mitz’votav v’tzivanu al n’tilat yadayim.Literally, however, the words in the prayer–netilat yadayim–mean “lifting up of the hands.”

More often than not, the prayer is translated in this way: Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the Universe Who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us concerning washing of hands. I prefer this translation: Blessed are You, God, Source of Creation, Who has sanctified us with His/Her commandments and commanded us to raise our hands in service.

Jews wash their hands upon rising from sleep, before studying sacred texts, and before prayer, as well as at many other times during the day. You can take on this practice as well and incorporate it into your day by adapting it into your own religious or spiritual tradition. Each time you wash your hands, raise them up before drying them, and simply say something as simple as, “I bless you, Source of Creation, and lift my hands in service to you.” Wiggle your wet fingers in the air, and then dry them off.

If you have rituals or prayers from your religious tradition that you think work well as practical spiritual practices, feel free to email them to me at namir (at) purespiritcreations.com.

I turned 50 last week. Although I really don’t feel 50 and I didn’t have much psychological “stuff” around turning 50, I felt the need to mark this event in some way with a ritual. So, I asked a few friends if they might help me do so.

The first friend took me off to the ocean on a stormy day this past weekend. With the rain washing my face and the cold water swirling around my ankles, and the sound of the waves crashing in front of me, I stood eyes closed as she and another friend invoked angels and guides. I silently added in the Shechinah and all my ancestors. I opened my eyes to watch the huge white-capped waves swelling and breaking, creating foam that tumbled across the beach.

They smudged me with sage and made a copper bowl “sing” as I released all the things I did not want or felt were blocking me into the water. They walked around me in reverse circles as I imagined these things drifting out to sea.

Then they used rose sage in the same manner as I imagined all the things I wanted to create in my life in the future. I saw them coming in on the waves.

Last, they anointed me with oils on my third eye and on my base chakras. Then we all stood together with palms raised looking out to the ocean and thanked God and the spirits and guides.

In two weeks, my Jewish friends will create another ritual for me, this one with a mikvah of sorts and some Jewishly-oriented elements. By the end of the three or four weeks post birthday, I will have fully transitioned from 49 to 50.

Consider creating rituals for your life-cycle events…any events–a new job, a new car, letting go of an old relationship, creating a new attitude, allowing in the new day. It’s so powerful.

Anyone can do this; creating rituals offers a great practical spirituality practice that can cross religious lines and spiritual backgrounds. We are all priestesses and priests with the ability to create sacred space and invite the Divine into that space. We can all create a ritual. Try it. Let me know what you do and how it goes.

Tonight many Jews around the world will participate in the observance Passover. They will take part in a first night seder, or service, that commemorates the Israelites freedom from slavery in Egypt. (The word “seder” actually means “order”; the service has a specific order.)

I see the seder—actually the whole week of Passover—as a time to look at our lives and to see how we can participate in Tikkun Olam, healing the world. We do that my first looking at how we can heal ourselves; then we look at how we can heal our immediate lives. From there, we can look beyond ourselves to how we can heal the lives of others, the planet, etc. We do that by asking provocative questions and searching inside our selves for deep and honest answers.

Usually during the seder we ask only four questions…well maybe a few more. The questions typically revolve around the symbolic items on the seder plate. The first symbol of Passover is matzah. We are told that the Israelites left Egypt in such a hurry that they didn’t have time to let their bread rise. As I wrote in an article:

We are also told that the Egyptians fed the Jews matzah. So, matzah represents two things: the food of slavery and the food the Israelites ate in their haste to leave Egypt.

On a more subtle level, leavened bread symbolizes “puffed up” attitudes or egos — a person’s own inflation with himself or herself. The rabbis teach that a central concept of freedom is “pulling back from the ego.” This involves getting back to basics, or thinking about what really matters. When you are a slave, you have a different perspective on what really matters. You do without a lot, including basic freedoms.

As I look at the matzah, I ask myself: What really matters to me, and how have I lost sight of this? How can I reprioritize so that what really matters comes to the forefront of my life? How can I get back to basics? What luxuries can I do without? Have I placed too much importance on certain material things, and how can I change that perspective? How does my ego keep you enslaved?

Here are a few of my personal answers:

What really matters to me, and how have I lost sight of this?

My family and fulfilling my soul’s purpose, which I feel is to help others through my writing. I lose sight of this daily by getting caught up in aspects of my work that take up time and energy and leave me with a lack of both for my family and for the projects I want to pursue that would allow me to meld work and service.

How can I reprioritize so that what really matters comes to the forefront of my life?

I can always put family first. I can make sure that I prioritize family both on my calendar and with my time and energy, making sure that I always leave enough of both for them.

I can also reschedule my days so that I have time each day or each week when I devote myself to projects that fulfill my soul’s purpose. I can make this sacred time when I don’t let other work get in the way. (I won’t answer the phone, schedule calls with clients, etc.)

How can I get back to basics?

I don’t have many luxuries in my life or extras. For me this means spending time meditating each day and exercising. The basics represent self care.

It also means getting beyond the stuff I must do for work and getting back to the real work: writing.

What luxuries can I do without?

My family and I don’t have too many luxuries. We eat out a bit. I could cut down there. I buy a few too many books; I don’t have to do that. I struggle with this question.

Have I placed too much importance on certain material things, and how can I change that perspective?

I probably place too much importance on some things I simply enjoy, like jewelry and clothing. I place too much emphasis on how my home and property look. I’m concerned about what people think when they visit.

I could definitely change my perspective about this, but not seeing my where I live or what I wear as a reflection on me. I do currently see it as that.

I also see my accomplishments—or lack thereof—as a reflection on myself. I could let that go as well and simply be okay with what I do and have done. I could stop striving quite so hard to reach goals for the sake of what others think and simply do it for myself and out of a desire to fulfill my soul’s purpose or to feel good within myself. I could simply focus on being of service.

How does my ego keep me enslaved?

In many of the ways I’ve just mentioned…by making me concerned about what others think. By causing me to believe that it matters what I’ve accomplished, what my home looks like, what I’m wearing, if I’ve what type of car I drive, etc.

My ego also enslaves me by telling me I’m not good enough, haven’t done enough, haven’t become enough.

How could I break out of jail?

Give myself permission to just be…and to be okay with who I am, where I am, what I’ve done.

I could reach out to those less fortunate than myself.

I could meditate and get centered and connect to something greater than myself; then I’d know I am fine the way I am.

Now you try this exercise. It’s a good one for the first night of Passover.

It’s so easy to let the changes of modern day life eat away at tradition. Change happens, it seems, whether we like it or not. More often than not, however, we allow it to happen.

I had reason last night to consider this. My family went to see Fiddler on the Roof with Harvey Fierstein. I’ve seen the musical twice before, but this time I was struck by the symbolism the director gave to the fiddler. He became the embodiment of tradition.

Each time Tevye had to decide if he should break from tradition, he faced the fiddler. He would show up playing his instrument, and Tevye would either shoo him away or not. If he sent him away, his decision represented a break from tradition. When he refuses to accept his daughter’s decision to marry out of her faith, he allows the fiddler to stay. Also, at the end of the musical as the family leaves for America–for a new life in a new land, he motions for the fiddler to come along. I’d never realized before that this symbolized his desire to bring the old traditions with him into his new life and into the future.

As I look at my life, I see how many traditions I’ve left behind. While I didn’t grow up with many Jewish traditions, I took quite a few on as an adult. Yet, as my children got older and busier and as my other family members became less interested in religion, like Tevye, I allowed myself to be swayed away from tradition. Unlike Tevye, though, I have not put my foot down and said, “Enough. That far I won’t go. That much I won’t accept.” At some point I allowed the fiddler not only to leave my rooftop but my daily life as well.

I’ve written some articles in my Jewish Issues Examiner column criticizing those who have been unaccepting of the Women of the Wall in Israel, an organization of women who choose to wear tallitot and read Torah at the Western Wall on Rosh Chodesh. While I still wholeheartedly support this group of women and their freedom to worship at theKotel, I can understand to some extend the desire of the Orthodox Jews who harrass them to uphold tradition. They must fear that if they allow the Women of the Wall to worship at the Kotel–if they allow the fiddler to be sent away, the foundation of their lives and their religion might begin to disappear. They must fear that the traditions upon which so much of Judaism and Jewish life are based will start to crumble. And, of course, they need only look around to see that the rest of the Jewish world lives a life distant from the traditional life they lead. Thus, they have reason to believe that letting one tradition go will lead to all traditions disappearing. From their perspective, before long, this will cause the fiddler to fade into the distance.

I can understand. My life is much, much less Jewish without the small traditions I had, the ones I myself choose to uphold in my life since I did not come from any type of observantly Jewish home…and I didn’t uphold anywhere near the number of traditions of Orthodox Jews or those in the fictional Anatevka. I strain t hear the fiddler.

As I walk into the future, I’m not going to a new land or a new way of life. However, like Tevye I will invite the fiddler to come along.  Not only that, I think I’ll draw him close so he walks by my side and I can hear his music loud and clear.

Today, after writing my most recent Jewish Issues Examiner column, I had to spend some time really considering how much I have allowed myself to become assimilated into secular culture. You see, my column was inspired by a JTA story I read about a Chabad rabbi in Russia trying to bring assimilated Jews there back to Judaism. I then wrote about how Jews in the United States, as well as all around the world, need to fight the same battle this rabbi is fighting alone–and which the Maccabee’s faught so long ago–the fight against Jewish assimilation into secular culture. (You can read my Jewish Issues column here.)

I’m not an Orthodox or observant Jew. I’m a spiritual Jew who tries to be somewhat observant–or, I should say, I used to try to be somewhat observant until secular life got in the way. When my work life and my husband’s work life and my children’s extracurricular activities took over our life, our Jewish life fell by the wayside. We stopped attending Friday night or Saturday services. We stopped going to adult ed classes through our synagogue or Jewish renewal chavurah.

As my husband became less interested in Judaism, which is another story, I also found it hard to make myself go to services and classes alone. I’d always had a partner with whom to do these things. It felt lonely to go by myself.

So, I opted to do what other people–and my husband–were doing. I took my children where they wanted to go or waited around for my children or worked late on Friday evenings. I carted my kids around on Saturdays, or I worked or did chores or ran errands.

We have kept our tradition of having Shabbat dinner every Friday night (almost…if we are home) and lighting candles and saying blessings for the candles, the wine and the challah, but the kavanah (intention) has fallen by the wayside, and we never bookend the Sabbath with Havdallah anymore like we used to do.

Tonight, my son pointed out that the meal I was eating wasn’t kosher. We don’t keep kosher. However, it would have been very easy for me simply to have made one food choice so that my would have been kosher. At that moment, I realized how far removed I have become from my religion.

I also realized the choices I can make every day that will bring me closer to my religion. I can easily (and sometimes not so easily) make large and small choices every day that will increase my Jewish practice, thus making me a better Jew. This also will help strengthen my Jewish identity, bring me closer to God and strengthen my sense of spiritual connection.

So, I ask you: As a Jew, how assimilated into secular culture are you? What choices can you make that would move you just a bit closer to Judaism?

The High Holy Days and the Days of Awe revolve around the theme of t’shuva, a Hebrew word that means “turning” or “to turn.” I often think of it as “returning” as well.

Today, we think about t’shuvah. Anyone can contemplate this subject. What you are turning towards at this time?  From what are you turning away? For Jews, at this time of year, we (hopefully) turn away from our misdeeds or the targets (sins) we have missed during the last year. We turn towards better behavior, more righteous deeds, new targets we hope to hit in the new year.

We also can see this as a turning back to God or to a more spiritual path. By living by the laws of God, performing mitzvot (commandments/good deeds), treating others as we would like to be treated ourselves, acknowledging each person as a soul in a body not just as a body, seeing God everywhere, and placing God before us always (Shiviti Adonai l’negdi tamid), we practice t’shuvah. By taking on a spiritual practice, or renewing our spiritual practice, we do t’shuvah. This includes meditating, praying, hitbodedut (walking and talking to God), chanting or singing devotional songs, or doing anything else that draws you closer to God or helps you feel a connection with Source or “something greater” than yourself.

I also perceive t’shuvah as a return to my best self. So, at this time of year I ask myself, “Who am I really? How do I put myself out into the world (or not)? Is the manner in which I put myself out into the world representative of who I am? Does it allow people to really see me – the real me?”

This t’shuvah revolves around authenticity, or returning to your true self, your best self. Maybe your actions towards others this year really didn’t allow your compassion to show. Maybe the amount of time you spent on expressing your soul’s purpose was so small that no one close to you could even see that purpose or passion shine through.  Maybe you kept your love locked in your heart. Maybe you were dishonest. Maybe you hid your smile behind a frown. None of these actions or behaviors express your best self. None of them are who you really are at your essence.

Who are you really? What are you here to accomplish? How would your soul like to express itself? Have you expressed your true self at all this year? How will you do a better job it it next year? How will you express yourself this year?

Now is the time to return to or turn towards who you really are and who you are meant to be.