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A few days ago, as we engaged in the time-honored ritual of daylight savings, I came across an amusing photo trending on social media: Kermit the Frog lying down looking dazed and exhausted. The caption reads “I’m not turning the clocks back this year, because the last thing we need in 2020 is an extra hour of it.” 

Uncertainty. Anxiety. Trepidation. These are emotions so many of us share as yet another profound and gripping event defines 2020. As I put pen to paper, the outcome of Tuesday’s election still looms unknown. Perhaps by the time you receive this message, we will have clear answers. Perhaps not. 

As a country, as a world, we have grappled with deep and swirling uncertainty for some time now. In this recent case, as with the pandemic, we want definitive answers. Waiting for WHEN has proven the hardest part of 2020 thus far.

When will we know? When will this end? When will my electricity turn back on?  When will I feel better? Instead of paralyzing us, these questions can ground us and anchor us. 

As this Shabbat approaches, I remind myself of the profound gift this day represents. I challenge myself to live in the moment, to rest and not ruminate, to exist and not persist. Instead of ruining the todays by obsessing over the tomorrows, Shabbat teaches me I have the power to focus on now.

I find comfort in a a famous Hassidic story: 

There was a rabbi who held a gathering of his congregation, where they would discuss deep and mystical concepts for hours. Each week, the most anticipated part of the gathering was when the Rabbi would deliver a formal sermon for the event.

As was customary, in preparation for the profound teaching, the crowd began singing a special melody, a niggun. Eager to hear the Rabbi’s teachings, the crowd began speeding up the niggun, humming faster and faster. 

The rabbi grew frustrated, and admonished them for their display of honest and well-meaning enthusiasm. The entire point of absorbing the teachings, he explained, is to develop the trait of pnimiyut — to look inside oneself, gain equanimity and become fully present.

The imagery of people rushing through a niggun to get to the sermon, is a profound one for me. How do we sing that niggun slowly, with intentionality and purpose, to help us find grounding and peace? 

2020 has taught us many things. One of them is that ANYTHING can happen. Amidst the unwelcomed events, life can also surprise us in incredible, inspiring, and unexpected ways. 

But for now, I choose to not even think about that piece of optimism. I choose to think about right here and right now, the moment which I alone inhabit, uniquely and fleetingly. I choose to connect myself to my community, and allow a sense of wholeness and peace to wash over me. 

Shabbat Shalom