It’s raining as I type this, which on the one hand I’m thrilled about because California needs rain. On the other hand, I have seasonal affective disorder (SAD) so when it rains my mood plummets and I feel mildly depressed. To counter the depression, I pulled out my SAD lamp and strung up fairy lights.
I find it especially poetic that I’m bringing more literal light into my life as right now it’s also Hanukkah. To celebrate Hanukkah, Jews all over the world light candles for eight days. One of the principles of Hanukkah is the idea that one candle may kindle the light of many others and yet lose none of its own light. I like that idea. I think especially right now as we’re facing surging COVID-19 numbers and many of us are unable to celebrate the holidays as we normally do, there’s something important about being a light, spreading light, but also recognizing darkness.
Candles are most effective in the dark. Fairy lights are the most appealing when other lights are off. You can’t have lightness and brightness without darkness. There’s a writer I like named Jeff Brown who discusses this. He says:
“Real spirituality is all about ‘enrealment’ – it includes everything human in the equation. The real now is the one that includes everything we left behind on the path. We must work through our story, before the unresolved elements of our story kill us.”
Yes! My spiritual path is about using everything as a vehicle for liberation or enlightenment. About not running from feelings and tough times, and yet always remembering there is something more to me. Something outside the drama, the ups and downs, a witnessing part of me that remains unaffected and emits a light that can never be diminished. It’s my goal to keep growing that light, to keep remembering its presence, and to kindle that light in others.
We each have a light within us that is longing to burn ever brighter, to radiate within ourselves and those around us. In this holiday season, may you also remember the light being that you are. May you remember you are more than the sum of your parts, and may you also endeavor to shine a light on all parts of yourself.
The more you and I can do that, the more we can create a world we wish to see. One where we celebrate with one another, but also mourn with one another because instead of trying to bypass the hard, challenging, shadow parts of ourselves and this world, we acknowledge them. We acknowledge them and we bring light to them, which transforms them.
I dream of a world where we remember our brightness and we share that brightness with others. A world where we’re not scared of shadows because shadows are where light is most needed. A world where we embrace all parts of ourselves as we kindle the flame of “enrealment.” A world where we’re able to be the light.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m spending time with my family right now so I’m editing/recycling some old posts of mine.
Right now it’s Christmas and Hanukkah, which I love. In times like these, I think we need to be reminded of what unites us instead of divides us.
Maybe it’s because I’m Jewish, but to me, Jesus seems like a mythical figure on the order of Zeus or Apollo. He lived so long ago that sometimes I take for granted he actually existed. He was born, he bled, he defecated. Jesus was a human being. Yes, an amazing human being, but he still existed, was still blood and bones the same as you and I, which astounds me. Fun fact, Sir Isaac Newton was also born on December 25. Newton wasn’t Jesus, but he was still a remarkable guy.
Why am I mentioning Newton’s birth? Primarily because when I hear about incredible human beings like Jesus, Newton, Albert Einstein, or Martin Luther King Jr., I somehow put them above me. I think to myself, “Those were amazing human beings, but I could never do anything like they did. I could never accomplish what they did.” I somehow don’t believe they felt the things I felt or struggled the way I struggled. But that’s not true. They were people just like us. They had fears and failures just like us. Nothing separates us.
We’re all made of the same material. We all come from the same source. We are all light, which brings me to Hanukkah. One of the principles of the holiday I like the most is that one candle may kindle the light of many others and yet lose none of its own light. Right now I think it’s important to remember great people of the past, to remember we are like them, may accomplish what they’ve accomplished, and also we can be candles in the dark that kindle the light of many others.
My spiritual path is about using everything as a vehicle for liberation or enlightenment. About not running from feelings and tough times, and yet always remembering there is something more to me. Something outside the drama, the ups and downs, a witnessing part of me that remains unaffected and emits a light that can never be diminished. It’s my job to keep growing that light, to keep remembering its presence, and to kindle that light in others.
We need to keep kindling that light in others so we create a world we wish to see. A world where we live amongst each other in harmony. A world where we celebrate with each other and mourn with each other. A world where we aspire to great heights, accomplishing what we burn to accomplish like people in the past. A world where we remember who we really are — light beings.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Considering today is not only the solstice but Chanukah, I figured it would be a good time to talk about light and what it’s become a metaphor of.
One of the principles of Chanukah that I like the most is the idea that one candle may kindle the light of many others and yet lose none of its own light. Some people say that we’re already enlightened. I don’t subscribe to that idea because I for one have too many hangups and issues to consider myself to be on par with Lord Buddha, someone who I think we can all agree was enlightened.
What I do have, what we all have, is a soul, a spark, a piece of consciousness. In other words, light. I consider enlightenment to be a state of grace where consciousness or light is so vast and bright that the separation between me and what is not me no longer exists. I consider it my duty to remind others of their own light, of their own consciousness. In other words, to be a candle that kindles the light of many others.
During this holiday season it’s both easy to forget and easy to remember that life is not just about consuming things: food, drinks, or gifts. That we are more than human machines driven by impulse and instinct. We each have a light within us that is longing to burn ever brighter, to radiate ourselves and those around us.
Something important to remember though, is we do have human bodies, we aren’t just light beings. A friend circulated this post by Jeff Brown the other day who said:
“Real spirituality is all about ‘enrealment’ — it includes everything human in the equation. The real now is the one that includes everything we left behind on the path. We must work through our story, before the unresolved elements of our story kill us.”
I absolutely agree. My spiritual path is about using everything as a vehicle for liberation or enlightenment. About not running from feelings and tough times, and yet always remembering there is something more to me. Something outside the drama, the ups and downs, a witnessing part of me that remains unaffected and emits a light that can never be diminished. It’s my job to keep growing that light, to keep remembering its presence, and to kindle that light in others.
May you also remember the light being that you are. May you remember you are more than the sum of your parts, and may you also endeavor to shine a light on all parts of yourself because that is where enlightenment happens.
I dream of a world where we remember our brightness and we share that brightness with others. A world where we’re not scared of shadows because shadows are where light is most needed. A world where we embrace all parts of ourselves as we kindle the flame of enlightenment.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.