12:02 a.m. (background about The July Project)
Tonight I went to the first class in a 3-part series called "Creating a Life Worth Living." It's taught by a life coach and is sponsored by American Jewish World Service, which mostly helps impoverished and underserved populations in Asia, Latin America and Africa, but also creates programming for young American Jews who want to look at the world through a Jewish and social justice lens.
So the teacher is a local Jewish woman (for these purposes we'll call her LG) and she is incredible. There are 18 people in the class. Three boys, the rest women. It's so encouraging to be in a room full of people who know their life holds promise, but aren't sure in which direction to turn to seek said promise. It's a reminder that I'm not alone in my quest for ... well, I'm not sure yet. Generally, I applied to take this class (we had to apply!) because I know that what I'm doing is not satisfying me in the ways I want/need, but I'm not sure what kind of changes I need to make in my life to feel wholly satisfied. For instance, do I need a different journalism job, or a different career? Do I need to just make some changes at my current job to improve it? Can I derive fulfillment from nonwork pursuits, and if so, how can I focus myself to really commit to a few of those?
LG posed the following question: How does "pretty good" hold us back from achieving great?
Lots of people spoke up -- fear of failure, fear of success, complacency, comfort, resistance to change, concern that the change won't be any better (or even worse) than the existing situation....
I felt I had already said quite a bit, so I didn't add what came to mind while considering this question, and that is: Inability to let go of your old goals.
I always thought I'd be a famous news reporter. If I don't become that, I'm obviously finally accepting that, but then... what? What do I do? Is it okay that my work no longer fulfills me completely? Is it okay that a job is just a job, as long as I'm finding satisfaction and happiness in other elements of my life, and that my job is not sucking my energy too much? I asked the group that question and LG pointed out that all of the questions we're posing tonight (and in future sessions) can really truly only be answered individually.
One girl said she hopes the class helps her listen to herself. I seconded that. In the hubbub that is daily life, I don't often enough find time or space or energy to ask myself: What do I need? What do I want? And I mean these questions in a small context, not necessarily in a huge, wordly way.
LG also reminded us numerous times that this is not a career seminar, though of course we should feel free to talk about our careers, and direct the focus that way if we so choose. I found it interesting that for many of us, "work" is our default setting. It's endemic to society, really, and a bit surprising in a group of San Franciscans, who have made an art out of chasing work-life harmony. Everyone in this city has something they're passionate about, whether it's art or yoga or volunteering or planting trees or teaching people how to compost. It's inspiring and yet daunting because if you don't have these dual (or tri or quad) identieis, then who are you really? Work defines the minority of people in San Francisco, and yet when asked to first consider how we "create a life worth living" we all think first about work.
One of the participants is a rabbi, so she led us in a short text study of a passage from Genesis. Did you know the very first question in the Torah is: Where are you? God asks Adam this question, and Adam responds by saying he was hiding because he heard God's voice and was afraid. God asks him if he ate from the forbidden tree, and Adam confesses but blames Eve for the indiscretion. Then God asks Eve if this is true, and she blames the Serpent.
What we learned is that this question "Where are you" is perennial. It is a constant presence in our lives, and it is not an accident that it is the first question in the Torah. The rabbi pointed out that neither Adam nor Eve took responsibility for themselves in answering the question, and that in doing so, failed to truly answer God's questions. Therefore, if we don't own our choices and take responsibility for ourselves, we cannot honestly answer "where are you?" It follows then, that if we can't honestly answer the question, we can't figure out where we are or where we need to go to feel happy, whole and fulfilled. (Clearly, the question is not so much one of geography but of headspace.)
In my last two minutes of writing, here's my final thought, and it's this. The rabbi, who said she read these passages a million times, found one new meaning while preparing for the class. She added up the numeric value of "where are you" in Hebrew, which is "ayecka." Turns out it adds up to 36, which is 18 + 18, which means double chai, or double life (for those not in the know, 18 is a highly significant number in Judaism and you should check wikipedia or jewfaq.com for more). Which basically means that the question "where are you" is a living, evolving question (and answer) that should serve as a bridge between all of life's transitions.
12:22 a.m. (yay! 20 minutes of freewriting)
end note: the only things I corrected in this blog post were spelling errors, which will be my practice from now on.
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