On Leaving the Comfort Zone

It’s a little ironic.

One of the hardest things in the world to do is also perhaps the most rewarding. But I guess it always works that way.

Nothing is more gratifying than living according to your deepest convictions and most authentic yearnings. But it’s also so incredibly hard.

It just seems a lot easier to sacrifice our dreams and ideals on the altar of comfort and safety than it does to live in sync with our longings and principles. But, when we fold on our ideals, something gnaws at us, robbing us of any sense of inner-peace.

If there is one thing I have learned from making the decision to uproot our family from our very comfortable and easy life in America to become immigrants at age 51 in a strange and unfamiliar land, it is just this. The deepest pleasure in life comes when we live according to our highest values, no matter how difficult and shocking it can be.

The comfort zone is where our dreams go to die. When we prioritize safety, security and status-quo over self-actualization, we can be certain that it will be our dreams that will land on the chopping block.

So, when Ali and I left behind our dear parents, our daughter and son-in-law, our granddaughter and our entire community of friends and fellow journeyers, we knew that it wasn’t going to be easy. But we hoped that the reward – living a life aligned with our deepest values- would make it all worth it.

(Moments like this make it all worth it. When the two deepest yearnings come together)

People ask me all the time, “are you happy in Israel or is it hard for you?”

The question is inherently flawed. It implies that the two are mutually exclusive. Of course, they aren’t. We live in a culture that mistakes pain to be the opposite of pleasure. The opposite of pleasure is not pain. The opposite of pleasure is no pleasure. Pain and pleasure are not opposites. The correct relationship between the two is that pain is the price we pay for pleasure. And, the greater the pleasure, the more we cough up in the currency of pain.

Case in point – think of your own children. What is the greatest pleasure we have in life? Our children, of course. And, what has been the greatest pain in our lives? You see what I mean?

If we live our lives in fear of feeling pain, we may achieve numbness, but we will never have happiness and certainly not self-actualization or greatness.

Is it really possible to feel happiness and sorrow at the same time?

Jewish law says it is.

A fascinating question arises in Jewish law when a person loses a parent and at the same time inherits a large sum of money from that same parent. Jewish law dictates that one who loses a parent recite the blessing of grief and sorrow (“Blessed are you G-d the True Judge”). At the same time, that same mourner is obligated to recite the blessing of gratitude for the inherited sum.

How can it be? How can I express grief and joy simultaneously? The answer is simply – I can. It turns out that have the capacity to be happy while I’m sad. Higher living demands that we embrace this paradox, and not run from it.

Sometimes I feel like that mourner who also inherited a fortune.

My heart breaks every time I think about my granddaughter wondering where her Bubby and Zeidy went. I feel like weeping every time I think of my son Yosef not growing up with his grandparents around the corner. I grieve every time I think of my beloved community and not celebrating Shabbat and holidays with them.

And in the very same moments, I feel like dancing. When I think about returning to our home, the home of the Jewish people, after 2000 years of exile, my soul delights. When I look out upon the Judean hills and meditate on the reality that we have redirected our family’s destiny to this magnificent land, I experience an indescribable inner-joy.

And, when I think about playing on the infield during the final innings of Jewish history and not having to watch them unfold anymore from the bleachers, I feel this transcendent and majestic emotion that I haven’t yet found a name for.

How is it possible to feel intense joy and sorrow at the same time? I don’t know. But it is. When we are willing to make the difficult, even gut-wrenching sacrifices that life beyond the comfort zone demands and when we are able to align ourselves with our deepest and most authentic yearnings, life just feels different.