“I don’t believe people are looking for the meaning of life as much as they’re looking for the experience of being alive.”

— J. Campbell

Namaste Yogis and Yoginis,

When I was growing up, my family was not religious. Other than being bat mitzvahed, we didn't practice Judaism much beyond gathering with extended family to celebrate a few holidays each year. So in September of 2011, six months after my father passed, I was surprised to feel a deep pull to go to synagogue for memorial services (Yizkor) to honor my dad.

It was Yom Kippur (the holiest observance) and I didn't belong to a temple, nor was I seeking to join one. But that morning, on the way to the grocery store, I had a flashback of being a little girl watching my father clasp his cufflinks as he headed out to attend Yizkor for his departed mother. This memory lingered with me as I continued into Kings to buy milk. As the electronic doors opened, I was greeted by a floor-to-ceiling display of my father's favorite cookie, Mallomars. I immediately turned around and drove to our local temple in hope of catching the memorial prayers.

At the service, I was unexpectedly and compassionately guided through feelings of grief in ways that words cannot explain. I returned home feeling very open and connected to my father.

My expanded presence seemed to pique the interest of my son William (then 9 years old), and he said to me, "Mom, I will try Hebrew School if you want me to."

His statement took me by surprise because neither my husband nor I felt the need for William to receive a Jewish education.

But still, his words pushed me toward some deep thinking. I did, in fact, want William to feel a connection to our lineage, history, and traditions. I also often wondered...if we didn't offer my son some sort of religious identity, would he eventually feel the absence as a void?

We agreed to support his trying Hebrew School and told him, "It's great that you want to go, but know that if you want to stop at any point, you can." So, in 2012 he went for a trial week, which came to a beautiful conclusion on November 12, 2016.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Now, I'd like to keep you believing that it was my amazing afterglow from attending service for my Dad that committed William to his path. But we soon discovered that he was motivated by learning that the finish line included a big party and potentially a generous number of gifts.

It wasn't always easy. Over the four years of classes, he wanted to quit at least once each season. Whenever he complained about moving forward, we reminded him that he could stop when he wanted to. But each time, William ultimately decided to rededicate himself to the effort.

What became most meaningful to us as parents in this process was witnessing William, for the first time ever, commit to something that was not stimulating, entertaining, or immediately rewarding to him. As you may imagine, Hebrew school and Bar Mitzvah lessons can be super demanding and for many, pretty boring.

Finally, his fourth year of study rolled in, and there we were, planning a Bar Mitzvah.

Wait, what????

With no common ground among my husband, my son, and me as to what this day should entail, things got harder...and William decided he wanted not a big party, just a celebration with his friends.

Six months into the process, we still didn't agree upon a vision or feel a cohesiveness. So we decided to plan just the basics and book a party for William's friends and a small luncheon for immediate family.

And then…

Two months before the big day, we had an orientation meeting with the rabbi to ensure that we understood how the service (ceremony) was structured and what we needed to do to participate.

This was the turning point.

The Rabbi explained that this would be our day too, not just William's. A Bar Mitzvah can be a rite of passage for not just the celebrant, but for his whole family and community as well. This could be a ritual to celebrate the past 13 years of raising our son and to honor this threshold — from which we all are growing up, and out, and forward. This simple idea was like a light that was turned on in a dark room.

My husband and I understood it instantly and embraced it fully.

When we were invited to make it our own, to inject our family meaning into it and to create something relevant and personal, we literally came fully to life. One of William's tutors even further encouraged us, suggesting we "take back the Bar Mitzvah."

It was through this deconstruction or construction process that we became more connected to this day than we ever expected. We began to articulate and really feel what was most meaningful and important to us: family, friends, nature, kindness, music, poetry, lineage, politics, optimism, inclusion, participation, celebration, and joy. It was the progression of working toward the day of ritual when we spent the time pausing for reflection and introspection, taking stock, and feeling gratitude that gave the actual rite meaning and power.

This ritual culminated in one of the most potent moments of my life. My husband and I each had an opportunity to give a blessing to our son. Time stood still as we looked deeply into William's eyes while he listened to our heartfelt wishes for him.

This was a new day for all of us.

Not only did my husband and I revel in the experience of seeing our son standing on his own in front of his community and showing he has truly grown up, we also felt that we, too, had grown up. We had survived being first-time parents to an infant, then a toddler, and then a child...and William had survived with us as his parents. Not only did he survive, he thrived. Happy Bar Mitzvah!

While I've long loved leading rituals for myself and my students (New Year's Eve, solstice, equinox, etc.), I've come to believe that it's the preparation, practice, and process of moving toward the ritual that will make it sacred. For many, especially in a religious context, a rite or ritual can feel more like a responsibility, or protocol, or even just habit. We can also walk blindly through these moments and take them for granted. But the truth is that the magic and meaning in any ritual lie within you. The ritual's power to reorient, reconnect, and re-inspire you — even transform you — begins with what you bring to it.

While every day brings opportunity for ritual, this season is especially abundant with actual junctures: The Winter Solstice, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Christmas, and New Year's Day. So in each Yogalicious blog this month, I'll share ideas to help you create personal moments of pause, introspection, beauty, and blessings all season long.

“Give Thanks for the Unknown blessings already on their way.”

— Native American Prayer

SOME INSPIRATION FROM THE BAR MITZVAH PROGRAM

ANYWAY

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered.
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you.
Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight.
Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, will often be forgotten.
Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough.
Give your best anyway.

BE THANKFUL

Be thankful that you don't already have everything you desire.
If you did, what would there be to look forward to?
Be thankful when you don't know something,
for it gives you the opportunity to learn.

Be thankful for the difficult times.
During those times you grow.
Be thankful for your limitations,
because they give you opportunities for improvement.
Be thankful for each new challenge,
because it will build your strength and character.

Be thankful for your mistakes.
They will teach you valuable lessons.
Be thankful when you're tired and weary,
because it means you've made a difference.

It's easy to be thankful for the good things.
A life of rich fulfillment comes to those who
are also thankful for the setbacks.
Gratitude can turn a negative into a positive.
Find a way to be thankful for your troubles,
and they can become your blessings

OLAM CHESED YIBANEH

O-lam Ches-sed yib-bah-neh
I will build this world from love
You must build this world from love
If we build this world from love
Then God will build this world from love

This song was written by Rabbi Menachem Creditor, a spiritual leader of Congregation Netivot Shalom in Berkeley, CA, and the founder and chair of Rabbis Against Gun Violence. He wrote this for his child who was born right after 9-11.

BETTER THINGS (Song By dear friends)

The Kinks. Songwriter: Ray Davies

Here's wishing you the bluest sky,
And hoping something better comes tomorrow.
Hoping all the verses rhyme,
And the very best of choruses too
Follow all the doubt and sadness.
I know that better things are on the way.

Here's hoping all the days ahead
Won't be as bitter as the ones behind you.
Be an optimist instead,
And somehow happiness will find you.
Forget what happened yesterday,
I know that better things are on the way.

It's really good to see you rocking out
And having fun,
Living like you just begun.
Accept your life and what it brings.
I hope tomorrow you'll find better things.
I know tomorrow you'll find better things.

Here's wishing you the bluest sky,
And hoping something better comes tomorrow.
Hoping all the verses rhyme,
And the very best of choruses to
Follow all the drudge and sadness.
I know that better things are on the way.

I know you've got a lot of good things happening up ahead.
The past is gone it's all been said.
So here's to what the future brings,
I know tomorrow you'll find better things.
I know tomorrow you'll find better things.