The Blessings of Being in Deep Sh*t

Hi friends,

Greetings from the half-way mark of the Omer. Wow, what a journey it's been so far. Lots of growth and exciting possibilities abound.

More on those at the appropriate times.

One highlight to share: Over Pesach, I spent a week in Tzfat, with Reuven and Yehudit Goldfarb, a lovely couple, and longtime members of the Jewish Renewal community.

Their house is gorgeous, with an amazing library with almost every Jewish book I've ever wanted to read, and many more, and the top floor of the house is a dance studio with hardwood floors and a beautiful view overlooking the forest just outside Tzfat. I spent a lot of time chanting, singing, davening, and writing during the week. It was so lovely to have a week to really ground myself in a sacred space. Jerusalem is so noisy, but their house in Tzfat was exactly what I needed to relax and ground myself. (2 asides – I read Reb Zalman's Integral Halacha there, and ate ktniyot on Pesach for the first time. Why, exactly, did it take me so long to do that?)

After being there five days, mostly in the house, on Shabbat afternoon I needed to get out.

Not knowing Tzfat at all, I decided to head for the forest which had provided such amazing views all week long. I knew I needed to head downhill, and came across a path next to the cemetery where all the Kabbalists (and others) are buried. Dressed only in shorts, I decided to avoid the cemetery and kept heading downhill. When I got to the bottom I could see the forest, but didn't know if there were any trails to hike on. I saw a few people coming from the direction of the forest and asked one of them if there was such a trail. He said, in the lovely Israeli manner, the equivalent of "yeah, yeah, go straight, you'll find it" aka yashar yashar. Well, I am talented at many things but directions are not my strongsuit. And given that everyone in Israel tells you to go yashar yashar, does it actually mean anything or is it the lovely way of saying go that way, and let someone else deal with you? Eh, I'll figure it out, I says to myself and I head towards the trees.

I go a ways and I see a little trail going off to the left. Okay, it's a trail, the trees are that way, how bad can it be, I think.

I take the trail and it leads me into grazing lands for cows. I cross near a manure pit, which, not surprisingly was not pleasing to my nasal passages.

And then I'm standing in a big, grassy area with me, cows, and lots of poop. Lots of poop.

At this point, I go into my Ilan-philosopher mode. Okay, I say to myself, I am quite literally in "deep sh*t" – there's poop all around me and it smells and in case you were wondering, this ain't exactly the best place to go hiking, kiddo. And then I think about my life. Hmm, in some respects I'm in deep sh*t in real life too. Here I am, close to running out of money, with no clue how I'm going to finish my semicha program, and not sure I'll even make it to the end of my time in Israel in June, let alone coming back in the fall or what happens during the summer. Hmm, yes, I say I'm up a creek. Deep sh*t.

And then, something beautiful happens. I'm standing there, watching these cows graze, and a mother cow goes over to her baby cow and starts licking her face. And I have to say, I melted.

It was one of the most beautiful acts of parent-child love I've seen in a long time. I stood there, mesmerized as the mother cow cleaned the face of its young. Just gorgeous.

And I thought to myself – wow, even in the face of deep sh*t there is also tremendous beauty. Love all around. I was inspired and decided to thank G!d for sending me into this place to see this beautiful love. I davened Mincha there in that field and it was a lovely davening. I thanked G!d for bringing me there, and I thanked the cows for being so lovely. And then I left the field, and came back to the road I had turned off of to get there. I decided to continue on the road – when I reached the end of it, I came to an amazing nature reserve, with a path leading down into a gorgeous gorge. Despite the fact that the sign told me the park was closing soon, I went in anyway (what're they gonna do, arrest me for hiking on Shabbes?) and had an amazing solo hike for an hour or so. Spectacular views and a nice conversation with G!d about the next phase of my life, asking G!d if the big transition I think is heading my way was right for me. Answer received was absolutely – sorry to be a tease but you'll have to wait to find out what it is! But the hike was amazing and it was so wonderful to be using my body – I could hike every day. Gorgeous views, which I had all to myself (the nature reserve was outside the eruv so no one else would go in on Shabbes. Lucky me!).

When I came back to the start of the trail, I was rejuvenated and incredibly inspired as I often am with amazing hikes out in nature. Good time talking to G!d, some good singing and an amazing afternoon.

I walked back towards Tzfat, passing my friendly cows again. And I thought to myself that the amazing place I had just been to on the hike was SO CLOSE to the place where I was in deep sh*t with the cows. You could get from one to the other in two minutes!

And isn't that how it is in real life? Whenever we're at our lowest, whenever we think we're in deep sh*t with nowhere to go, we're never actually that far from finding the answers to get us into a better place. And if we put our trust in G!d and call out when we need a little help, when we can find great beauty even in the dark places, then we're not in a place of deep shi*t anymore. We have the power to transform the negative into positive, even into holiness. We don't have to be in a place of deep sh*t. If we find the G!d in that space, then it's just deep. As in whoa, that's deep.

As we continue on our path from slavery to liberation, from bondage to receiving the Torah, may we find holiness even in our dark spaces. May we let light into all those places inside us that need it.

And may we always remember that there is great beauty all around, if we but open our eyes. May we blessed to see holiness wherever we go.

Many blessings,

Ilan