Inspiration or Distraction?

I said I won't share for a while. I'm supposed to be in a "time off" mode this month. But this came through as a direct response to something Jewish women are collectively pleading for and I couldn't hold back.

We're told we must feel something.

That this is a highly potent time of year.

That if we don't garner all our spiritual and mental powers to feel the magnitude of Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and all the Days of Awe in between, we're going to fail some test put before us and have a miserable year, G-d forbid.

So we scramble.

"Maybe if I listen to another shiur while putting in a batch of potato kugel between making supper and bathing the kids, it will finally click and I'll be in the right frame of mind."

Or, "the men daven in shul all day and I'm lucky if I even get in a little bit of davening at home."

I hear the frustration. I really do.

Felt it myself for quite a few years.

But when did we decide that prayer only lives in a machzor or within the hallowed walls of the synagogue?

When did we forget what's accessible inside of us that we think only an inspirational podcast or lecture can give us the truth?

When our own body is a living breathing vessel of Life where the Shechinah Herself dwells?

When our home is the womb of creation growing literal life through the seeds of our tending and nurture?

This is not about the nanny metaphor or trying to glorify your FOMO. In that story, the king still walks back into the throne room and she still feels apart. You get thanked from the doorway. I don't think this is it.

We tend to think holy is "out there."

In the words beautifully strung by the cantor. It sure is.

But these prayers are memories of a time when real life was lived in service.

When the kohanim didn't wistfully sigh through prayer books but facilitated the deepest spiritual shifts through seemingly mundane acts.

Karbanos.

Ketores.

Preparing food. Cleaning. Running back and forth.

Tending to the Home. 

This is the actual Homebase. 

You're in the thick of it.

The trap is when you think you're not already in your highest Divinity and think you have to see it elsewhere. 

Find it right now.

Right inside.

In your heart.

In your breath.

In the way you embrace your children for whom you're staying home. 

Don't put anyone down, don't leave the room, don't wait for a better moment than this one.

Just be here.

Feel the weight of your body where you're sitting. Feel the child leaning on your leg, the crying still ringing in your ears from the other two fighting over a snack.

This is not the interruption before the holy part.

This is the sanctuary the Divine Presence calls Home.

You already have it. You've never not had it. That was never what you were missing.

What you're missing is only that you've been doing it while your mind is somewhere else. Wishing you were in shul. Waiting for the day to feel like something. Trying to arrive somewhere other than exactly where you are.

Come back.

That's the only thing being asked of you.

Everyone in shul is reading a description of a world where holiness moved through the physical tending of a space.

They're holding the pages.

You're living the story.

You're not outside, waiting to be let in when the kids are older and you finally get a full day in a seat.

You're the one it's moving through. Your home is the space it's happening in. Your body is the vessel already holding the spirit of the day, and it has been all along.

So tomorrow, when Kol Nidrei is starting across town and you've got a baby on you who won't go down, or another kid pulling on your skirt, don't go looking for the feeling somewhere out there.

Find it exactly where you already are.

Right here.

Take a deep breath, wherever you are. Within the noise or stress or just right through this genuine desire to connect that's pulling you to be in shul. That yearning is the direct conduit to connect to Him right now.

There's no perfection. It's you He desires. As you are.

Feel free to borrow this prayer, or let your own words rise from within you:

Hashem, I'm here. I'm not somewhere else and I'm not waiting for a better version of this day to come home to You. Receive my prayers exactly as they come through my heart. And hear the prayers I don't have the headspace to formulate. You know what I really need. I'm here. Exactly where I need to be. Thank You for being here with me.

When you seek outside yourself to connect to the true power of this day (feeling even more exhausted and frustrated over it) – is it inspiration?

Or is it a distraction from the Presence that's already available in the walls of your home, in kissing another boo-boo, in your inhale and exhale as you invite Him into all of it?

You're not outside waiting for the gates to open.

You're sitting right inside.

Wishing you a G'mar Chasimah Tovah!