During the Torah reading on Rosh Hashanah, I went up for the first group aliyah. I don’t remember the exact words of the theme now—something to do with being noticed by God. Anyway, I found myself standing in front of the table with the Torah on it. I reached forward and touched the tzitzit, or fringe, of my tallit to the place where the reader was about to begin reading, and kissed them. This is a common ritual. Then the reader turned to me and asked me to hold the right tree of the Torah open as she read.

I had done this many times before. I had done all of this many times before. However, I had not been coming to services except on special occasions—like the High Holy Days—for about a year or more. (And I had sorely missed walking my spiritual path.) I gladly took hold of the tree…the tree of life.

As did, I took a deep breath. It felt good to be there with the Torah. I looked down at the words of the Torah and marveled at the fact that after so long a time away here I was standing close enough to watch this woman, my friend, read the handwritten Hebrew there in the scroll. I could see her moving the yad, the pointer, along. I could see the whole section of the scroll. I could feel the wood beneath my hand.

Longing came over me. This sacred text, this book reminded me… I sent up a prayer, a prayer: Please God, help me write my own Torah, my own story, my own book.

Then I remembered the book I had wanted to write…the book that suddenly made sense to write, that tied all my writing projects together, that tied my seemingly disparate areas of work into one cohesive whole…I knew what I needed to do.

It was as if the words, the message, came to me out of the letters of the Torah before me or flowed through the tree into my arm and up into my head—and gave me new life.

With great joy—and sadness—I let go of the Torah after the reading. I again touched my tzitzit to the scroll, this time to the spot where the portion ended, and then I received my blessing. As I walked away I knew, indeed, I had been noticed.

Have you ever had a similar experience? Has God noticed you in some way?

On Shavuot, we remember and celebrate the giving of the Torah at Sinai. However, the Torah is not just the scrolls that contain the stories of our ancestors or, as some people believe, the word of God. The Torah contains wisdom imparted to us in the form of those stories and in the words of God. At Sinai, Jews also received the Oral Torah.

More than that, we each have a Torah of our own. We have our own wisdom, much of which comes from our own lives and the stories we tell about them. It comes from the lessons we have learned as we have lived and how we then share that wisdom.

Everyone has a Torah–unique and individual as well as part of The Torah. It all blends together.

Today, on Shavuot, whether you are Jewish or not, consider your Torah. (After all the Torah is the Old Testament or Bible; Christians read this as well. Muslims are descendants of Abraham. We are all one.) Are you open to receiving the Torah–your Torah–today? Are you willing to share it with others?

Know that the more you give your Torah (wisdom) to others, the more you will receive it (wisdom).

Rebbe Nachman of Breslov said we all must be teachers. As we teach, we open ourselves to learn more. In fact, we elevate ourselves to the next level so we can learn more, and by so doing we leave a spot open for someone else to move up and into.

Elevate yourself, and elevate someone else by giving your Torah.

Receive your Torah today on Shavuot. Ask God to Give it to you. Be open to receiving it. Then give your Torah to others. Share your wisdom: through teaching, writing, speaking.

Chag sameach (Happy holiday)!

No matter our religious orientation – or lack thereof, we can all learn something from the use of the world “sin” in the Old Testament and in Jewish liturgy. Let me explain why. The word for sin in Hebrew – chet – comes from the sport of archery. Hebrew has no real word for sin as we understand it. One or two other words refer to what we think of as sin, but none actually mean “sin” per se. The words al chet, usually translated as “the sin” and commonly used during the Jewish High Holy Days, which including both Rosh Hashanah and the Day of Repentance (Yom Kippur), really means “the missed mark.” In archery terms, this would refer to missing the target or not hitting the bull’s eye.

Interestingly, the word Torah, which refers to the Old Testament scrolls and the text they contain, also comes from archery. It means to take aim. Thus, the Old Testament teaches us to take aim, but sometimes we take aim and miss the mark, which in Judaism – and from a spiritual persective – is considered a serious enough offense to be called a “sin.”

Why do the Old Testament, Hebrew and Judaism use archery terminology for such important words as sin and Torah?  And why are these words associated with taking aim and hitting or missing targets? After all, sins are not something to be taken lightly, and the Torah is the sacred text of Judaism. The reason lies in the analogy between an archer missing his mark and a person repenting for wrongs committed.

Archery involves setting up targets in the middle of which are the bull’s eyes at which the archer aims his arrows. To hit the “mark,” archers must practice their aim until they become good enough to hit not only the target but the bull’s eye. On the Day of Repentance, Jews look at the past 12 months of their lives to see what targets they set up for themselves, how they practiced hitting that target and if their aim was true. We do the same thing, of course, on the secular New Year. Welook at the target to see if we managed to hit the bull’s eye. During this period of introspection we notice not only if we aimed our arrows and shot, but if we even got close to our mark. During the High Holy Days, the period between the Jewish New Year and Yom Kippur provides a time to set up new targets – or to reexamine or study old targets – and to commit to practicing our aim. It’s also a time to set the intention – kavanah (another word that, while not related to archery, also means “to aim”) – to try harder to shoot true – to hit the bulls eye this year. On December 31st, New Year’s Eve, we have just one night when most people take a moment…or an hour…or even the better part of a day to pause and consider the past year and if their aim was true, if they need to reset their targets, and at which targets they need to spend more time practicing their aim.

Thus, we see that the Jewish New Year’s practice may come out of the Jewish tradition but is relevant for anyone from any religious background. And we can see clearly why archery terms are used to describe sin. God appears to be telling us that the sin comes in not setting goals for ourselves and in not trying to achieve them. At a minimum we have to set up a target, try to take aim, practice shooting that arrow, and then let it fly. We have to attempt to hit our mark. The sin lies not in simply missing the mark but in not trying to hit it at all. If we can sincerely say that we tried to hit the target – we aimed, we practiced our shooting, we shot, and we still didn’t get a bull’s eye, God forgives us. At least, that’s what we are told on Yom Kippur.

The importance of actually setting New Year’s resolutions or goals can be found in the answer to this question: What would happen if we never set a target for ourselves, if we never had any goals or aspirations or resolutions?  We would never change. We would never move forward.  We would never achieve personal growth. We would never accomplish anything. We would not fulfill our human potential or live our lives fully.  That truly constitutes a sin.

Our goals and resolutions give us something to move towards – something quantifiable. And the New Year – either secular or Jewish – provides the perfect time to turn over a new leaf, begin again, think about what we want to change or accomplish, how we want to grow, to set up those new targets so we can reach our full human potential and live our lives fully.

(If you are interested in a workbook about setting resolutions – or targets – based on these principles that can be used for either the secular New Year or the Jewish New Year,  please click here.)

In fact, I was still nursing my post-ACL-surgery knee and dealing with the first Northern California storm, which left my home in the Santa Cruz Mountains without power from Tuesday through Thursday. Additionally, I began having Internet connection problems on Monday, making it hard for me to access most websites.

During this past week, I noticed a recurrent theme: learning how to move forward anew. First, after my knee surgery, the second ACL surgery on the same knee in 14 years, I had to learn how to ambulate again. I had to do this using crutches and a brace. I found myself quite frustrated with these items, and by about Wednesday I had basically given up on them all. Instead, I was hobbling around the house in an off-kilter manner–but I was, indeed, moving forward anew, whereas just a week before I was not moving forward much at all.

During this same period, as I mentioned, we received our first rain of the season, but not just any rain–about 8 inches accompanied by 70 mph winds. This marked a new period for our region: the rainy season. We could move forward into the late fall with less fear of fires.

In the midst of this storm, I was supposed to go to physical therapy. I had driven myself to PT twice before, so I wasn’t too worried. However, the weather was enough to put fear into anyone. I put on my brace and hauled out my crutches (all of which I had not yet ditched), and I trekked off for the car. Once behind the wheel, I made it about two thirds of the way down our 1/4 mile-long (or longer) steep, narrow, and windy driveway only to discover power lines across the driveway. I couldn’t pass through. Instead, I had to back up a steep incline and around a very tight turn. I managed this, but couldn’t back up any farther despite my best efforts. I resigned myself to the fact that I was stranded on my own driveway, unable not only to move backward but also unable to move forward.

I sat in the car for three hours waiting to be rescued. The wind howled around the car and the rain and bits of redwood branches pelted the windows. I considered my plight. My knee prevented me from getting out of the car and simply hiking up the hill to my home. Like a baby learning to walk, I didn’t have the ability to take myself where I wanted to go, which at that moment was back to the warmth and comfort of the house.

I also considered that my knee surgery had created a sort of new beginning…a point of departure. For every point when something major occurs in our life constitutes a point of departure. This is the point when I learn to walk again. This is the point when I move forward with a new ACL, a new “knee.” And for now, things are different. I see things differently. I deal with things differently. I move through life differently. Or, in some cases, I don’t move through life. I have to consider each step, think about how I move through the world, work at becoming able to be “free” to do as I like.

Interestingly, each year on Simchat Torah we reach a familiar point of departure. We end the reading of the Torah for another year and immediately begin again from the beginning. We once again read the first Torah portion, “In the beginning…” Why? Because each time we begin reading again, we do so from a new point of departure. We do so from a different place in our lives. We are another year older. We have move to another place (figuratively or actually). We have new perspective, new insight. We begin the journey forward taking baby steps again.

And each time we begin something anew, we learn something new. Each time we look at an aspect of our lives as a new point of departure, we see it through the eyes of a child and we take baby steps. We are more careful, more thoughtful, more willing to be open…

So, just as I begin to walk again…just as we begin to read the Torah again…consider what you are beginning again. Or, what can you begin again? What fresh start do you need to take today?

Remember, in the beginning God created everything…We all have that Divine spark within us in the form of a soul housed with a physical body. We are creative beings. What new thing do you want to manifest? In this beginning, today or this coming week, what will you create? Take advantage of the energy of this week’s Torah portion, B’reishit, and create something new. Write your own Torah portion that starts, “In my beginning…”

What’s Shavuot really all about? Most of us know the basic facts: After leaving Egypt, the Israelites camped at the bottom of Mount Sinai and Moses went up the mountain not once but twice to speak with God.  And for the first time in recorded history, God revealed himself and spoke to an entire nation of people, not to one lone visionary. Every Israelite at the foot of the Mt. Sinai saw and heard God reveal the Ten Commandments.

I think, thought, we can make it so much more personal, take it so much deeper than just the giving of the 10 commandments. We can look at how God gave entered into a covenant with us, made us a nation of priests and priestesses, and gave us the Torah…and ask ourselves what each of us now can do with that.

Indeed, Shavuot commemorates the face-to-face encounter between God and the Jewish people. Our tradition tells us that we all stood at Sinai, every Jewish soul, even those not yet born. The making of the covenant and the giving of the Torah serves as a shared experience among all Jews, past and present. We each entered into that covenant, that relationship, with God, and we accepted that Torah, that teaching. We connected ourselves with God and God’s wisdom for eternity.

Within the Ten Commandments, there are actually two sets of laws. One reflects man’s relationship with God, mitzvot beyn adam l’makom, and one set that reflects man’s relationship toward his fellow man, mitzvot beyn adam l’chaveyro. The revelation at Mt. Sinai continued beyond the tenth commandment, including an additional 603 ethical and religious laws to bring the total to 613 commandments. Of those 613 commandments, 248 are positive commandments, said to correspond to the number of bones in the body, and 365 are negative commandments, said to correspond to the days of the year. When viewed together, they suggest that we Jews devote every part of our bodies, every day of our lives, to following God’s Torah as revealed to all of us, born and unborn, that day at Mount Sinai.

I see this as an indication that we are imbued with Torah. Each and every one of us carries the Torah and its commandments within us. For what is Torah but wisdom and lessons and inspiration? Indeed, we are told that Moses brought down from that mountain not only the commandments but the oral Torah and the mystical tradition we know as Kabbalah.

All of this we commemorate on Shavuot. Every day, however, we have a chance to offer this Torah ourselves not only through our actions – by performing mitzvot- but also by actually offering our wisdom to others. We can inspire each other with our actions, our words, our experiences. That’s how we can continue the tradition of giving Torah every day. Maybe that’s part of our covenant with God, to actually take the Torah and make it alive, make it our own, transform it into something personal, and then share it. We need to pass it on l’dor v’dor, from generation to generation, making it constantly new and relevant.

Most Jews celebrate Shavuot with all-night study sessions. This tradition comes from the fact that the Israelites at Mount Sinai were so consumed with their fear-rather than their awe-of God that they could not listen to the revelation being given to them. (Exodus 20:15-18). Thus, our ancestors decided this holiday should be commemorated with all night study to prepare for this momentous event instead of going to bed as usual. To correct the mistake of failing to listen, in the future they prepared well to receive the Torah with “Tikkun Leyl Shavuot,” the “Preparation on Shavuot Night.” On this night before the full day of Shavuot, Jews study late into the night, sometimes till dawn, in the hope that once again God might choose Shavuot to reveal to Israel the hidden mystical truths underlying creation.

Here’s what I suggest, however. Let’s not wait for God to reveal these truths. Instead, let’s search within ourselves, we who are created in God’s image and who were there at the mountain that day. We may not have listened but we heard. Plus, we have a spark of divinity within us, a neshamah, a soul, connected to God. We have our own mystical truths to share, our own Torah to give that will inspire and enlighten others.

So, on Shavuot, why not write down or tell others your story? The written Torah is filled with stories that teach, enlighten, inspire, and show Jews how to live. Your story or stories can accomplish the same end. Or stand up and speak your Torah, offer it to others just as God did to all of us at Mount Sinai. Someone will gain something from your wisdom.

Yes, this Shavuot, let’s not wait to see if God reveals truths and lessons to us. Let’s channel the Divine Energy ourselves by offering our own Torah to our friends, families, and communities. Ask for Divine Wisdom. Meditate and pray and connect with God. Draw on old stories and apply them to your own life and experiences, thus renewing them and making them relevant once again. Or simply tell new stories of your own.

Everyone has a Torah. What’s yours? Give it this Shavuot.

[If you want to find a Shavuot event in the South Bay, CA, read this San Jose Examiner post.]

Since I last blogged, I’ve reorganized and republished my Kabbalah of Conscious Creation booklet. I’ve prepared for a trip to Chicago, where I gave two talks and led one workshop. While there I did manage to visit two friends, whom I stayed with and another woman I knew and whose horses I used to ride. (I visited my favorite horse, too.) I also recorded a CD of meditations. I came back home to finish writing a book proposal and two articles and to finish helping my new webmaster totally redesign my website. And there have been small projects interspersed within these bigger ones.

My husband has also been traveling – even while I was in Chicago – and my kids have gotten sick (me, too), and my son has graduated from middle school, and we’ve had a huge wildfire near our house, and we’ve had some yard work done. The house, as you might imagine, is a mess inside and out. Thank goodness, my husband is still working at his new, new job, as I like to call it (the one he accepted after he accepted and the resigned from the other new job), so I can finally hire my every-other-week housekeeper to come back and help me clean up the mess inside the house.

All this to say, I’m sorry for disappearing for a month, but something had to go. The blog turned out to be that something. But now I’m back. But…

I missed Shavuot, the holiday when we celebrate receiving the Torah on Mt. Sinai. I was hoping to get around to writing this blog on Monday so I could say something about the holiday, but now it’s past. With my book, The Kabbalah of Conscious Creation about receiving as well as giving, it seemed appropriate.

Instead, I received information to help me open to receiving on Monday. That seemed appropriate. I had a session with a woman who is clairvoyant and does energy work from a distance. She helped me clear some old issues that were blocking me. Interestingly, it took me back to a past life with an old boyfriend. (Hi, Eddie…) Who would have thought not being chosen in this life time would relate to being chosen in another? Or that either of these incidents would some how be affecting my ability to have my work chosen by a publisher? Well, according to this woman, it was all energetically tied together. And in the process of going back over my teenage years and my relationship with this young man, I received an understanding that previously had evaded me. I received an understanding I didn’t even know I needed to have.

I also let go of a piece of my past, making room for something new to enter – a little bit of future.

And, interestingly, this information I received did tie in to Shavuot. For on that day when the Israelites were given the Torah, they truly became the so-called Chosen People, entering into a covenant with God. And as I was told, I, too, on this awesome holiday, was asking to be chosen, opening myself up to being chosen, and allowing my work to be chosen.

My book, which I released in its proposal form to my agent after my session that afternoon so some publisher might choose it and me, will offer readers a way to open to receiving. In fact, it also offers me a way of opening to receiving. And in my session, I was reminded that sometimes we have to open our hands (stop controlling) in order to receive. And sometimes we have to let what is in our hands go so that something else we want can be placed there instead.

So, I guess in a kind of round about way I’m writing about Shavuot after all. I’ve rambled a bit here and there, wandered like the Israelites in the desert, but I think I feel I’ve gotten clarity in the last month and begun to see my path a bit more clearly. After finishing the proposal, I see where I am going with my book project. I see my work clearly. On another front, I see the need for balance in my life clearly. I know where I’m going. I’ve received helpful information, and I’m open to receiving more. I’m also ready to be chosen for the task I desire to take on.

They say that all Jewish souls in existence today were at Mt. Sinai when the Israelites were given the Torah. Maybe that’s why this feeling feels so familiar.

During this process, I decided to take a look at a web site of a woman who offers trainings that certify people to be life or spiritual coaches. I’ve been known to call myself a life coach, a Jewish life coach or – my favorite – a Kabbalistic conscious creation coach. I haven’t ever taken a course to be deemed “qualified” as a life coach, but I have a minor in psychology, and I’m a certified rebirther and a voice dialogue facilitator. I also read Tarot – soon from a Kabbalistic standpoint. Plus, my three years in a weekly women’s spiritual support group (where we did more powerful processing than in any therapist’s or coach’s office, I can assure you), my co-leading of a women’s support group and my leading of another spiritual support group I think do, indeed, qualify me as a coach of one sort or another. That said, I sometimes find myself thinking I need some sort of “credentials” that make my coaching “real” or “valid,” which explains why I was interested in this person’s coaching certification. I have a strong desire to be in integrity, and sometimes I’m afraid I’ll be seen as a fake, although I come from a very real place when I coach.

The fact of the matter is that, while I rarely see clients anymore (not for lack of desire but for lack of marketing) I do a lot of coaching through my writing, teaching and speaking. And why do I feel qualified to coach from this platform? Because I see myself as a person who teaches what I need to learn. I see myself as an Everywoman, who teaches from a place of knowing that I am not much different from most other people, and what has worked for me will probably work for someone else – or at least give them a jumping off point to find something that does work for them.

Today, however, I realized that there is another reason why I feel qualified to coach in this manner: Because I have a Torah.

In Judaism there is a saying, “Everyone has a Torah.” What’s a Torah? Normally we think of the Torah as the scrolls containing the handwritten version of the Five Books of Moses, also known as the Old Testament. So, how can each person have a Torah? Well, the wisdom contained within those scrolls also is considered Torah. So, when we have wisdom of our own – a knowing deep inside about the truth of something – this is our Torah.

My writing, teaching and speaking most often represents a sharing of my Torah. It’s my own. No one else’s. (Well…as a journalist, I admit that I sometimes draw on the wisdom of others to support or to clarify my own beliefs.) So, maybe my Torah is tinged with the Torah of others, but as I add what they know to what I know, it becomes my unique Torah. And I’m the only one qualified to share that Torah with others or to use it to support them in their own spiritual or human growth and development.

That said, each person, indeed, has their own Torah to share. We are each such wise beings if we only allow ourselves to tap into that deep knowing that comes from our soul or from Higher Source.

When someone reads Torah – from the scroll – they use a small pointer that usually has a hand at the end with the index finger extended. This is called a yad, which, in Hebrew, means “hand.” Not only does this help them keep their place as they read, but it prevents the oil of their fingers from damaging the letters. While at an Aleph kallah a few years ago, I heard my teacher, Rabbi Moshe Aaron (Miles Krassen), offer a Torah – a teaching – that inspired me to want a yad, but not the kind used for reading Torah from the scroll. I wanted a “hand” to remind me of his teaching, which had nothing to do with reading Torah.

I didn’t find one, but in a Judaica shop I did see a tiny yad meant to be worn on a chain, but it was too expensive, and I didn’t purchase it. A year later I entered the shop again, and found that little yad still waiting for me in the display case – and the price was reduced making it possible for me to purchase it. I brought the yad even though it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. I just felt that it was meant to be mine.

A year later, I wore that yad to a class at the 2005 Aleph kallah. I had had several encounters with people in my class (which this time was taught by Rabbi Maria Prager) that had made me understand why I was supposed to have this particular yad. I realized that each time we listen to a person talk, we are hearing their Torah. The act of listening is like reading Torah. My little yad served (serves) as a reminder that we are always reading Torah – hearing other people’s stories, learning their lessons, receiving their wisdom. I shared this Torah with the class.

In true Kabbalistic form, as we receive someone else’s Torah, we must give ours in return. For each of us truly has a Torah. And maybe if we each really read each other’s Torah – listened to each other from the heart – and shared our own – spoke our wisdom and truth from the heart – there would be less conflict in our lives and in the world. And we would become a world of wise, wise people that understood each other well.

I imagine that the World to Come will be time when we all read and offer Torah on a constant basis. Must we wait for the Messiah to bring such a time into manifestation, or is it our own Inner Messiah that will change the consciousness of the planet to one of true Torah, true wisdom and happiness? It is said that the Torah is “a Tree of Life to all who hold fast to Her and all her supporters are happy.” As we acknowledge and give our own Torah while receiving the Torah of others, we plant, fertilize and strengthen the Tree of Life thus helping it to bear fruit for all – happiness.

If I just remember this, I realize I don’t need any more certification than I have. No one can – or needs to – offer me credentials to read and offer Torah. Who am I? A person with a Torah. What am I? A Torah — to be read and to be given. What do I do? I read Torah and I offer Torah. How do I do this? Happily from my heart and with my heart.