Reflections on Growth, Stress, and Mindfulness

It’s the first Monday of the month.
Amazing.
First Monday newsletters tend to be a bit more chatty, a bit more rambling.
This one is a string of thoughts on growth, stress, and mindfulness

 

 

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it—I joined a gym.
I’ve been going for about three weeks now.
It’s humbling to be in the position of a learner—constantly needing a coach’s corrections while everyone else seems to know what they’re doing.
Growth requires vulnerability.
(And it’s wonderful, too.)

 

 

Depending on my mood, I feel either sad or glad that 12-15% of the readers of this newsletter help fund it and the good it does in the world.
I’m sure there are things in your life that, depending on your mood, either annoy or gladden you.
I used to think I could hack the system and avoid being annoyed altogether.
Now, I just acknowledge my mood without (as best I can) trying to change it.

 

 

We say we want stress-free lives, yet we don’t create (enough) space in our lives.
Do you actively do things to reduce the stress in your life?
I hope you do.

 

 

I enjoy chatting with wedding couples—they are always so delightfully filled with hope.
I tell them, “Budget three hours to figure out who is sitting at which table.”They look at me quizzically, “What? Why?”I explain, “If you think it’s going to take thirty minutes and it ends up taking an hour—because we can’t seat Aunt Midge near Tony due to their vendetta, etc.—you’ll be frustrated with the ‘extra’ thirty minutes it took. On the other hand, if you plan for three hours and it takes an hour, you’ll be delighted with the two hours you saved.”

 

Poet Andrea Gibson advises,
We try hard to do good.
But we should try softer.

 

Stuff Gets To Me

✧✧✧ As I pack up to leave after my workout, someone asks me, “Hey, Rabbi, how are things going?” I’m not one for small talk. Especially after being called by my title. “Well,” I reply. “I’m sad.” “Why?” “I’m thinking about the girls who went to school in the morning in Minab, Iran—over a hundred of them—killed by a bomb.”

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My Letter to Habakkuk

✧✧✧ To my dearest pen pal, Habbakuk: First, let me say, no one remembers the prophets who did not deliver on the goods. Your predictions came true. And, 2500+ years later, you are still remembered. Do you remember Lenny, that guy? Kept going around Judea telling people “the goats will lay down in green pastures,” and, then, remember? It started

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Me, Rabbi.

✧✧✧   I am a rabbi.   I have a Masters Degree in Hebrew letters and a Doctorate of Divinity, and I am ordained as a rabbi.   I have each credential framed, in my office, just behind where I sit.   They’re not individually affixed to the wall—they lean against one another in a stack.   I like the

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