By All Means…Paint!

Multiple selves might be the truest self.

“It’s just not me.”

“I know who I am and I know my strengths. This just doesn’t fit.”

Have you ever thought something similar? You understand your capabilities and your skills. You are aware that some things are beyond their range. It can take courage to look at yourself so frankly, but you summon the fortitude to make that assessment. That is being true, forthright, and honest.

Or is it?

Self awareness might have its downside. We might feel so in touch with who we are that we restrict ourselves. Our previous experiences mold our identity, our concept of who we are and the behaviors that we engage in. When we face situations that challenge those familiar identities, we can be reluctant to embrace them. Instead, we might try to avoid those experiences or alter the circumstances so they still fit with how we see ourselves. If we are unable to change that environment, we might feel stress and tension as we are pulled between our identity and the reality we encounter.

On the other hand, becoming involved with a circumstance that does not fit with how we see ourselves might provide phenomenal opportunity. It can push us to expand who we are and what we can do. New situations unmask our different capabilities. Events that challenge our identities can help us embrace a larger sense of who we are and who we could be. Truth and honesty mean to uncover the panorama of one’s abilities, not to falsely limit oneself.

Yet, we often do not like our identities to get shaped as life progresses. Even when we consciously make a change, our identities might lag behind. One example is what social psychology terms the “impostor syndrome.” Someone who begins a new profession or job might have an acute awareness that he is in his new position, but might remain partially incredulous. It can be hard for the former medical student to see himself as a practicing resident, much less an attending physician. It might be challenging for the former pupil to feel comfortable on the opposite side of the teacher’s desk. They can feel like charlatans, imagining that the patients or students see right through their ruse. In reality, it is usually only the practitioner that has the doubt. Everyone sees him as qualified…except his own mind. He views himself as the person he was, not the one he became. Social psychology suggests that the best cure for the impostor syndrome is to keep on doing his job. As one is more involved in that behavior, his identity gradually welcomes it as part of him.

Over a century ago, a young artist began to carve out his way in the world. He realized the joy, excitement, and vitality that he had from painting and made it his full time occupation. Meanwhile, his younger brother contemplated becoming an artist, too. In a letter, the older brother lucidly painted a picture of his own journey to becoming an artist. He described that he was not born with remarkable artistic talent, so many advised him to take a traditional approach to earning a living.  They encouraged him to give voice to his then present abilities and use them to find a way to make ends meet. They recommended that he find reasonable aspirations. He retorted that the human mind and soul has so much ability and capability that sometimes creating aspirations and goals can be a way to contain oneself. Man is so majestically powerful and multifaceted that seeing oneself in a certain way can be deceiving. With a veiled reference to the soul he declared boldly, “it is the height of conceit to try to force one to define what is indefinable.”

The artist continued to pursue his passions and crafted his career in art. He vividly described that his choice in dedicating his life to painting was still replete with uncertainty. He had to contend with a voice inside him that asked, “are you a painter or not?” He counseled his younger brother that if he were to become an artist, he would face a similar internal challenge. “If you hear a voice within you saying, “You are not a painter,” then by all means paint, boy, and that voice will be silenced,” he recommended.

When the older brother composed his insightful letter at the age of 30, he hardly imagined that a century later one of his portraits, Portrait of Dr. Gachet, would become one of the most expensive pieces of art ever sold, at over $82 million (currently adjusted to approximately $150 million from that 1993 price). That artist who eloquently penned his thoughts was Vincent van Gogh. By following his heart and expanding his identity, he became one of history’s most acclaimed artists.

Van Gogh’s words ring true beyond his specific situations. Most of us can have van Gogh moments, experiences, or episodes. We may have a preconceived identity which we don’t want to alter. Sometimes, fighting the change might be productive. In many other situations, allowing ourselves to expand and embrace a larger identity can be a glorious experience and golden opportunity.

The Sages express that some righteous Biblical figures, such as Abraham, experienced Divinely ordained adversities. Nahmanides explains that G-d designed those hardships to draw out those individuals’ internal character strengths. Encountering hurdles and overcoming them provided opportunity for those righteous people to actualize fortitude that was latent and dormant. Nahmanides is addressing the extraordinary tests of Biblical proportions, such as the injunction to sacrifice Isaac. Interestingly, contemporary challenges and upheavals can have similar results. Shifts and new developments can enable one to expand his identity and reveal talents and abilities that were dormant and unrealized.

One might see a large part of psychotherapy as helping one manage and embrace change. In therapy one can find words to describe life changes, summon his abilities to cope with them, and perhaps use the experiences to grow. One’s past can predict his present, but his approach to the present predicts his future.

This psychotherapeutic perspective was expressed autobiographically by Salvador Minuchin at 95 years old. Minuchin was a pioneer of family therapy and a well known icon. He recently published a brief retrospective in which he described some of the changes he went through in life. Minuchin explained that his experiences shaped him and helped him both discover and rediscover himself. The helped determine who he became as an individual and how he crafted his psychotherapeutic attitudes. His blend of candor and insight are a tribute to him both as a person and as a therapist:

“I grew up in a Jewish family in a small town in Argentina that was a kind of shtetl where, up until the age of 12, I didn’t know anybody who wasn’t Jewish. Then at 18, I went to medical school, and my world grew larger. At 20, I was put in jail for three months with a group of other students for protesting against [Argentinian President Juan] Perón, and my concept of myself changed again: I became an Argentinian Jew who was committed to social justice. From then on, I was a revolutionary and a fighter for social justice, and it seemed natural that I should join the Israeli army, in which I served as a doctor during the War for Independence. Later, when I emigrated to the United States and was on the staff at Wiltwyck School, I was a cultural outsider and found myself identifying with poor black people as I learned to speak English. And as I came to feel that I belonged with the staff and children and families at Wiltsyck, I felt I expanded.”

Minuchin’s multiple experiences unmasked several parts of his personality. He identified with each new experience and embraced it. Minuchin narrates that he took that idea with him as he became a therapist. He drove to encourage his clients to see new circumstances as opportunities to expand and see who they were capable of becoming. He explains:

“I wasn’t interested in their “true self”: I wanted them to experience a series of selves and the expansion of possibility that can grow from that experience. Above all, I wanted them to recognize that there were more ways of being than what their life experience so far, whatever it was, had made them aware of. What I did in therapy was say to people, “You know, belonging may give you a sense of security, protection, harmony, but it also limits you and creates an invisible pattern of relationship that fools you into believing it’s the only way of being.”

Minuchin developed an inspirational level of cognitive malleability. He had the courage to let his experiences shape him, and to embrace both his multiple situations and his transformation. He then used that mindset to create his therapeutic approach.

Minuchin concludes: “At 95, I think of myself as having journeyed through life as many different people, and I think of a line from Antonio Machado, one of my favorite Spanish poets: “The road is not the road; you make the road by walking.” I hope in my own walking I’ve cleared away some debris for those who will follow.”

Like Minuchin and van Gogh, we have different experiences through life. Sometimes they are the results of choice, like following one’s passion and becoming an artist. Other times they are the product of our circumstances, like some of Minuchin’s realities . Either way, we might cling on to our past identities and make minimal alterations. Alternatively, we can allow ourselves to embrace our shifts and appreciate the new selves they uncover.

As you go through life, circumstances will probably change. They might challenge your identity and convince you that you are an impostor. They might communicate to you that you are not a painter. Yet, perhaps you can make your own road by walking.

By all means…paint!

Do You Have A Shalom Bias?

Your marital bliss might depend a lot on what society you are part of

A married couple harmoniously navigates decisions, raises a family, and resolves its occasional arguments. Is this amicable relationship a happy marriage? Whether or not their connection is a content one might depend on their personal, mutual, and sociocultural views of marriage. For some, matrimony might be synonymous with teamwork and synergy toward common needs, tasks, and goals. For others, it also demands something else – a deep, emotional friendship and connection. How strongly the individuals value the former, the latter, or a combination of them will usually determine how satisfied they are with their relationship.

Marital relationships have undergone tremendous transformations over the centuries. These can result partly from changes in broader societal, communal, and religious norms. In many contemporary environments, there is an expectation that married spouses relate to each other as intimately close friends. As integral as this aspiration is in current Western society, marriage was not always viewed with that perspective. For example, in Victorian England, where women could not vote and were largely unexposed to education, it would have been untenable for most couples to assume that they could become closest friends. One does not even need to stretch so far back in time. Astonishingly, the first study to investigate and discover empirically that many British women felt emotionally lacking in their marriages came out in 1993. Many British women expressed that their husbands seemed to have an inability to do the emotional work that was deemed necessary to have a happier marriage. The findings themselves might not be so surprising. But it is astounding that research was just beginning to explore the emotional needs that British couples have from each other in marriage only twenty five years ago.

In many contemporary societies, women and men have similar sociocultural and educational opportunities. In this unique setting there is both a possibility – and often a demand – for a couple to have an emotionally mutual relationship. Consequently, a large part of what can make a present-day marriage satisfying and successful is that both members interact with each other as intimate friends. Mutual connection, sharing, and discussion of each other’s vulnerabilities can create a powerful connection that helps two partners feel emotionally satisfied and close.

A deep, satisfying marital relationship is possible now more than perhaps ever in history. Correspondingly, if this profound friendship is perceived as lacking or insufficiently developed, it can severely hurt a couple’s marital satisfaction. A sense of harmony and “getting along” can feel grossly inadequate for many modern day couples. Since they see themselves as having the potential to create an emotionally deep relationship, they also view their marriage as under stress when that connection is lacking.

Despite the general cultural shift toward marriage as an intimate friendship, dating or married individuals still might have very different expectations for their marriage. Cultures, subcultures, personality, and other factors can shape an individual’s emphasis on the emotional aspect of the marital connection. Couples experience marital strife when there is a large gap between what they thought their marriage would be like and what it ends up being. If both members of a couple feel content with a relationship that fulfills their individual and familial goals but does not need to penetrate emotional depths, they might consider a marriage without intimate friendship very fulfilling. It can satisfy their personal and collective needs. Similarly, if both members of a couple desire a deep, emotional feeling relationship, and they provide that for each other, their marriage might be thriving. Discontent and disconnect often takes place when one’s expectations and one’s reality differ.

The implications for dating or married couples can be widespread. If an individual or couple feels lacking in marriage, it might be important for them to be in touch with their expectations for marriage. Conversations about marriage can be most productive when each spouse is open to explore – individually and as a couple – how they see their ideals and goals for marriage. In order to create an ideal relationship it can be important to conceptualize – and often discuss – what that would look like. Differences and similarities might be discussed by individuals themselves or in therapy.

The first step on the journey to a stronger marriage might be becoming more in touch with one’s own conceptions of marriage and relationships. When one becomes more aware of how he would like his marriage to be, he can focus his effort toward creating that reality. It might take effort, energy, and work on the part of both him and his spouse to proceed along that path. But the more one knows where he is going, the more likely he is to get there.

See You Next Fall

Are you able to have a nice trip?

I think of myself as an adequate ice skater. I am proficient enough to go around the ice with my family and enjoy it. My ankles still turn in and my feet ache afterward, but my skill level is satisfactory enough for my occasional ice endeavors. There is one thing I aim not to do. I dread falling. The bump. The sting of the ice on my hand. The awkwardness of others seeing me go down. I skate and and I try very hard not to slip. Despite my trying, I often slip at least once a session.

Recently I went ice skating (in the summer!) with some of my family. As usual, I was trying not to fall. For most of the time I was successful. And then…plop…I hit the ice.

When I got back up, I noticed that I felt a degree of freedom. I was able to skate faster, have more fun, and be more relaxed. Soon, I fell again. This time I laughed at myself. “Falling is not so bad,” I said to myself. “ It’s also normal for many novices. And it doesn’t hurt too much. Besides, who is really watching me?” I continued.

As I contemplated my skating, I observed that when I was assiduously trying to protect myself from falling, I couldn’t enjoy the ice to its fullest. Part of my attention was focused on staying up. I couldn’t appreciate skating while I was also concentrating on not falling.

When I reflected on my ice skating experience further, I reached new appreciation of an age old Jewish tradition that elevates failing and falling. The verse in Micha (7, 8) states, “Let my enemies not delight over me because I have fallen – I have risen.” The simple meaning of the verse is that the speaker is exhorting his enemies not to rejoice over his decline, because he already bounced back. But the seminal work Shaarei Teshuva (Gate 2, 5) quotes a tradition from the Sages to interpret the verse differently by splitting it. The second part is is its own statement, “Because I have fallen, I have risen.” The speaker in the verse means, “Had I not fallen, I would not have reached the heights that I did.” In its new interpretation, that meaningful statement is a clarion call to look at failures as facilitating improvement instead of providing setbacks. It is an important mandate to normalize failure and use it as a catalyst for religious growth.

My experiences on the ice helped me with an additional perspective and deeper understanding of, “because I have fallen I have risen.” When I was distracted by trying not to fall, I couldn’t allow myself to be fully involved with the skating experience. Protecting myself was the inverse of immersing myself. But once I fell the first time, I allowed my defenses to dissipate. Had I not fallen, I would not have been able to embrace a fall as an event that I should expect. When I slipped, the wall began to crumble. I didn’t need to skate an Olympic 10, I was just going to enjoy the ice. Had I not fallen, I would not have been able to rise to the occasion of enjoying the experience. I would have still been protecting myself instead of immersing myself.

As we skate through life, we might dread failure and falling. Yet, If we unduly focus our energy on propping ourselves up and not allowing ourselves to fall, we might be stifling our accomplishments. Thomas J. Watson understood this as he charted his path to success in founding IBM. He coached the world, “if you want to succeed, double your failure rate.” If you are exceedingly cautious about falling, your energy is being used for protection and perfection instead of rising and realizing. That seems like a pretty slippery situation to slide into.

Drive Slowly In The Passing Lane

This too shall change…if you help.

King Solomon elicited a challenge from his subordinates. He dared them to create jewelry that could both relieve sorrow and temper mirth. Most that heard the challenge saw it as insurmountable. Yet, one loyal servant thoughtfully produced a ring with simple phrase, “gam zeh yaavor – this too shall pass.” These words are both simple and brilliant; they pithily summarize the temporary nature of most experiences. King Solomon was overjoyed and handsomely rewarded his insightful subject.

When one is experiencing the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat, or any feeling in between, it can be helpful to recall that many strong emotions are short lived. Even a situation that is prolonged will probably will not last for one’s entire life. “Gam zeh yaavor” provides a reminder that difficulties often blow over and opportunities don’t always remain.

Although King Solomon, or any other Jewish leader, is not actually recorded as having coined that phrase, its phenomenal ability to express a deep philosophical idea made it attractive to leaders such as Abraham Lincoln (here, in closing) and led to widespread use. Most would probably expect it to be found somewhere in Scripture or in Rabbinic literature, although it does not appear in any classical Jewish source. (For more on its origins and use in Jewish and non-Jewish sources, see this brief article by Dr. Shnayer Z. Leiman.)

Yet, sometimes “gam zeh yaavor” can provide an inappropriate allure. It can shield us from acknowledging and appreciating the facts and the feelings of the present. We can misconstrue “gam zeh yaavor” to endorse an attitude of ignorance and irresponsibility in the face of struggle. If we find ourselves in difficult circumstances, it can be significant to appreciate the gravity of the situation, explore means of ameliorating it, and move in that direction. It can be powerful and helpful to fuel ourselves with the knowledge that adversity usually blows over. At the same time, it is pragmatically and emotionally important to take the bull by the horns, analyze our responsibilities, and act to change our current reality.

This duality was personified by the behavior of Admiral James Stockdale, the highest ranking American to be held hostage in Vietnam. He was subjected to extraordinarily difficult prison experiences, and finally regained his freedom after eight trying years. Stockdale explained that he took a two-pronged approach to his life in captivity. On the one hand, he realized that he needed to remain brutally aware of his current reality. His life was next to meaningless to his captors and he needed to exert extraordinary effort just to remain alive. He had to have his wits about him and appear reasonably obedient to the guards. He had to exercise constant vigilance and devise his own methods of physical survival. At the same time, he hoped and imagined that one day the war would finish. He fostered confidence and optimism that he would survive and be united with his family. This dichotomy became coined “The Stockdale Paradox.”

Stockdale’s tempered optimism allowed his to survive his brutal imprisonment and return home. He eventually became a lecturer at the Hoover Institute at Stanford and was also nominated as a vice-presidential candidate. He was able to hold the beauty and sweetness of hope, yet did not allow it to shake his full awareness of the brutality of his reality.  That balance is essential to thriving in life. Optimism can sometimes obfuscate reality, and realism can sometimes eclipse hope.

This dialectic approach also distills the basis of most psychotherapy. One usually needs to appreciate some aspects of his current reality to make therapy meaningful. It is important for him to acknowledge an impediment so that he can reach out and so he can internalize the discussions he has with is therapist. At the same time, he can usually most effectively engage in the psychotherapeutic process armored with hope that his situation can change.

There is great wisdom in realizing that “gam zeh yaavor.” There is also great importance in being aware and mindful of a current situation and its demands. Combining future perspective while embracing current reality can sometimes seem to take the sagacity of no less than King Solomon.

Oiling a Change?

Shift into “How” with a resounding question mark.

Do you know how to change your car’s motor oil? I don’t. When the indicator light is on in my car, I bring it to a mechanic. He changes the filter, puts in new quarts of oil, and usually attaches a clear colorform-like sticker to the top left of my windshield.

I don’t know how to remove the oil, dispose of it, or replace the filter.

But there’s one thing I am sure of. As long as I keep on saying, “I don’t know how to,” that will still be true.

What if I decide that I want to be independent of the gas station and do my own oil changes? I might explore how to do it. I could research it online, ask a handy neighbor’ s advice, or watch a mechanic several times. Perhaps I would do all of those.

A powerful shift would take place as I journey from being unaware to accomplishing. I would go from saying, “I don’t know how to change the oil,” to “How do I change the oil?” Instead of making a statement, I would begin to ask a question. When I would make that shift, I would be speaking volumes. By changing from a statement to a question, I then allow myself to entertain the possibility that I can do it. My sedentary nature becomes activity when I change around a few words and I go from declaring that I don’t know how to to inquiring how to.

Sometimes the most significant transformations in life are represented by moving from a statement to a question. When you ask “How,” you are digging yourself out of the quagmire of helplessness to vistas of possibilities. That shift is the key to any successful endeavor, change, or accomplishment.

When you say “I don’t know how to,” the punctuation is a period. The sentence is over. There is nothing more to discuss. Intervention, learning, or change can only begin to happen if you append an inquisitive, somewhat mischievous hook to its top. It turns into a question mark. One might say that the goals of teaching and psychotherapy are to put that crooked mark on top of the period.

Consider trying this exercise. Next time you find yourself stating “I don’t know how to” do something, change around a few words. Cut of the first three words, “I don’t know,” and begin your sentence with “How.” That seemingly small word shift opens up a universe of possibilities. It dramatically declares to yourself that there are ways for you to do it. Even if you don’t have the requisite skills, knowledge, or acumen, you are indicating that it’s something that you can theoretically accomplish.

Positive experiences begin by changing “I don’t know how” to “How do I?” The boring period becomes an exciting, daring and perhaps impish question mark. That phraseology and bold punctuation mark is the harbinger of being able to achieve.

I still don’t know how to change my oil. I am complacent with keeping that as a statement. But if I want to, or to oil any other change, I would need to make a word shift. I would discard the “I don’t know” and begin with “How do I,” ending with a question mark that hints that a world of possibilities is dawning.

Let’s Start at the Very Beginning…A Very Good Place to Start

What is your personal Genesis?

The first book of the Bible is called Genesis because it deals with the genesis, or creation, of the universe. The name has its roots in the term used by our Sages, “Sefer HaYetzirah – the Book of Creation.” Nachmanides (Introduction to Exodus) comments that the name refers to another formation as well. The Jewish People was founded as Abraham concretized monotheism and transmitted his beliefs to his son Isaac and grandson Jacob. Then, the twelve Tribes of Israel began and laid the groundwork for a nation. Nachmanides elaborates that the Patriarchal lives microcosmically foretold the development of Jewish history. Events that transpired on a miniature scale to the first Jews portended events that would occur again to their offspring. This was national genesis, the creation of a people.

This can be true in the individual realm, too. An aspect of your personal psyche was created long before you were. Your parents, and their personalities, principles, and tendencies, have influenced you since we were born and throughout your life. One answer to “who are you?” is “the child of your parents.” Your genesis began with their creation.

Recognizing that how you assimilate life, manage problems, make decisions, and deal with others is influenced by your parents and your upbringing can be enlightening. That awareness might provide you with greater insight into who you are and where you have been. It might also help you better understand your current life situation and how you can change it.

At the same time, there are pitfalls and roadblocks that you might encounter when you travel down memory lane. It might be exceedingly difficult for you to trace a negative reaction or behavior to parental influence. We are culturally, religiously, and societally inclined to honor and protect our parents. Discovering that something adverse about yourself has its roots in your parents’ behaviors might seem like you are disrespectfully besmirching them. Sometimes, even people that have grown up in homes with severely deficient parents still find it hard to criticize them or see their negative influences with clarity.

A way to approach this resistance might be to suspend your judgement of your mother and father. You might find it productive to think about your parents and how they interacted with you as an observer. You might find it productive to curiously investigate some of their patterns of behavior, reactions, and parenting methods and see how it made you who you are. Your goal might not be to judge them, but to strive for a greater understanding of who you are because of them. The approach of the observer might allow you the freedom to explore your parents and their influences on you without your feeling compelled to pass judgement on them or their actions.

Also, a drawback to exploring and trailing some negativity about oneself to mom and dad is the blame game. There is a certain ease and freeness that might come from dumping your problems on someone else. Noticing that part of who you are comes from your parents can create a degree of scapegoating onto them, which might translate into shirking your own responsibilities. You might contend to yourself that if unfavorable aspects of your psyche were molded so early in life, you must be almost powerless to change them. Even if you were to consider modifying them, it must take a superhuman effort to do that – and you are only human.

It might be worthwhile considering that the aim of understanding where your personality and behaviors come from is not to shift the responsibility to your parents. Instead, greater understanding of “Me’ayin Basa – from where you came” might expose layers of thinking and default behaviors that you maintain as axiomatic. Seeing those thoughts and actions as resulting from your parental modeling and influence might make it easier for you to mold them and adjust them.

This week, we conclude the communal reading of Genesis. Perhaps is it meaningful to thing about your own genesis and how your parents have influenced who you are. Whatever stage of life you are in, it might provide you with a new genesis and a magnificent future in your own book that is still being written.

Consorting With the Enemy

She is guilty by association

Did you ever hear of Timna? She was an extraordinarily outstanding biblical personality who had private conversations with each of the patriarchs. Timna was authentically religiously motivated – designated by the Sages as having true Yiras Shamayim (fear of Heaven). Yet, she became resigned to history at best with anonymity, and perhaps with ignominy.

Timna was a princess in the biblical Horite Dynasty. She deeply desired to convert to the Abrahamic religion. She visited Abraham and he denied her that opportunity. She waited several years and then went to make the same request of his son Isaac. Following his father, he turned down her request. Timna then proceeded to ask the third patriarch to convert her. She requested from Jacob that he let her join the nascent Jewish people. He also demurred.

Timna maintained her yearning to associate with the People of Israel. She renounced her royalty and engaged herself as a concubine to Eliphaz, son of Esau and grandson of Isaac. She explained that she was so desirous of connection to the Nation of Israel that it was more preferable to her to be a lowly concubine in the house of Esau, wayward son of Isaac, rather than a princess to the Horites (Talmud Sanhedrin 99b).

Timna’s about-face is mysterious. Imagine a young American man who was motivated to join the Israeli Army. He was inspired by the Jewish people returning to their homeland after two millennia in exile, surrounded by enemies and fighting the odds. He reached out to the IDF recruitment office, and they politely refused his application. He was disappointed, but had tremendous resolve. He contacted them the next year and they again denied him that opportunity. He was slightly discouraged, but reached out a third time to the recruiters. They still did not allow him to join the Israeli Army. Yet, he still craved a bond with the dream of the Jewish people in the Land of Israel. So, as a last resort, he enlisted with the Palestinian Authority. He explained that it was better for him to have some relationship with the Jews in Israel instead of completely abdicating his dream!

Timma was no different. She so desired to connect to the Patriarchs and then ended up consorting with the archenemy, the malignant and belligerent house of Esau?

Timna set a laudable goal. When she encountered roadblocks, she consoled herself with the belief that she was continuing her lofty aim. Her plans were unfruitful and she altered her destination, but she maintained the identical passion, desire, and motivation that she originally had. Unknowingly, she had crossed the line, with her expression of deep yearning now directed toward ignoble goals. She convinced herself she was getting closer to the patriarchs. In reality, she joined the enemy.

There might be a bit of Timna in all of us. We can aspire to goals that are significant, lofty, and important. Sometimes, it becomes evident to us that these goals can’t be met. It can be painful to admit that we need to adjust our aims or reorient our targets. If we do so, it might mean coming to terms with the fact that we failed or made mistakes. Instead, we might surreptitiously change our objectives, but not allow ourselves to realize that we made an adjustment to our original plans. This defense against accepting reality and changing with it can stymie and stifle us, our satisfaction, productivity, and happiness.

It can be exceedingly difficult for us to navigate life journeys. Unknowingly, we can follow paths that we had set, even after they go awry. It is sometimes significant to recognize that different situations arise that might requires new approaches, new strategies, and new goals. Although adjustments can be difficult to swallow, they can result in the long term satisfaction that can come from being more aware of one’s situations and realities, and the goals of being honest and truthful to oneself.

Timna renounced her royalty and her reality. She abdicated her throne, and with it, her honestly to herself. Part of us wants to join Timna. Perhaps we can allow ourselves to see our reality, and with it, discover our own internal royalty.