Tales of the Hasidim and Emotional Ties

"Awe is what moves us forward."  --Joseph Campbell

The soul, wrote Martin Buber in Tales of the Hasidim, is like the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur, where in the Temple, the High Priest recites the Avodah, עבודה‎, the prayer of remembrance, "and thus he spoke." For he had not forgotten the time his soul was in the body of a High Priest of Jerusalem, and he had no need to learn from the outside how they had served in the temple.
Once he himself related, " I have been ten times in this world: I was a priest, a prince, a king, an exilarch, rosh galut ראש גלות. I was ten different kinds of dignitary. But I never learned to love mankind perfectly. And so I was sent forth again and again in order to perfect my love. If I succeed this time, I shall never return again."
Tales of the Hasidim, by Martin Buber

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Awe is an intuition for the dignity of all things, a realization that things not only are what they are, but also stand, however remotely, for something supreme. Awe is a sense for the transcendence, for the reference everywhere to the mystery beyond all things. It enables us to perceive in the world intimations of the divine... to sense the ultimate in the common and the simple; to feel in the rush of the passing, the stillness of the eternal. What we cannot comprehend by analysis, we become aware of in awe.

Who Is Man? by Abraham Joshua Heschel

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 In Visions: Memories, Dreams, Reflections, Carl Jung writes, "When face to face with such wholeness, a moment of near eternity, one is speechless, for it scarcely can be comprehended. The objectivity that I experienced in the dream, the bliss, and the visions form part of a completed individuation. It signifies detachment from valuations and what we call emotional ties".
"In general emotional ties are very important to human beings... Emotional relationships are relationships of desire... something is wanted, expected of the other person and this binds us... Something else came about as a result of my long illness: an affirmation of things as they are, an unconditional 'yes,' an acceptance of the conditions of existence as I see them and understand them, an acceptance of my own nature..."

'When one lives ones own life, one must take mistakes into the bargain. Life would not be complete without them. There is no guarantee, not for a single moment, that we will not fall into error or stumble into mortal peril. We may think there is a sure road, but that would be the road of death. Then nothing happens anymore--at any rate, not the right things. Anyone who takes the sure road is as good as dead...'

'I understand how important it is to affirm one's own destiny. We must forge a self which can withstand the trials of the world, a self that withstands the winds and seasons of the world, one that endures the truth, that does not break down; a self that is capable of coping with fate. Then, to experience defeat is also to experience victory...'

'I realize that one must also accept the thoughts that go on within oneself of their own accord as part of ones reality. The categories of true and false are, of course, always present... the thoughts are more important than our subjective judgements of them, for they exist as part of our wholeness."

-- Visions: Memories, Dreams, Reflections by Carl Jung

Real Lifework

"I was not happy. I hated what I was doing." Being Zen by Ezra Bayada

Many times, many of us engage ourselves and our time in occupations and jobs that while we may be successful and we may be quite competent with the tasks required, there is the nagging thought or a feeling that this just isn't for us, it isn't the right thing to be pursuing.

Ezra Bayada writes in his book, Being Zen, that "I was not happy. I hated [my work] what I was doing and anguished for more than a year over finding my "life work... A fellow practitioner suggested that every time anxiety arose over what kind of work would be right for me, I refrain from thinking about it and instead attempt to feel the physical reality of my life at that moment."

Bayada writes that as a young person and a person new to the practice, he initially didn't make a whole lot of sense out of the advice. It didn't jive with any of his previous experiences. Still he followed the direction, to stop, listen, look and feel "the moment," any moment in his daily existence and learn a new way to experience himself in his own skin. He says, "I didn't get any insights into what work to pursue, [but] I sensed something genuine about the quality of awareness that was apparent when I put thinking aside and focused on the "Whatness" of the moment... out of the blue, I realized my path..."

By continuing this way he writes that he also came to realize that by following his realization to become a carpenter, he would have to address many of his fears and self-beliefs that he knew held him back from having "a clear understanding of who we are and what our life is." He also observes that the tendency to live our lives through our minds' intellect, through ruminating, thinking, weighing and measuring, is really about the very natural desire to have solid ground beneath our feet. But isn't the ground already solid? What more do we need to add to it? Is it ground or is it me, who is the change?
Our personal feeling of "groundlessness" that often accompanies change is also natural. It can be frightening to let go and fall, trusting that the "ground" below will allow us to land on our feet. And yet it is the willingness to experience the sense of change, of temporary groundlessness that brings insight; it brings clarity.

Bayada offers a practice suggestion for those coping with the feelings of groundlessness related to change. He asks us to ask our self the question, "What do I have to offer[here]?" He asks us to ask this question often and to find what the answers are. We may be surprised. And we may realize more of our self.