Ki karov elekha hadavar me’od (Deuteronomy 30:14). This thing you are looking for, says Moshe, it is karov, close, so very close to you. You don’t have to climb to the sky or swim across the ocean to find it. It is right here, always close at hand.
What is close is hadavar. The thing, that one thing which makes all the difference, the thing that when we feel it, all is well, no matter how bad our situation, and when we don’t feel it, all is impossible and dark, no matter how good our situation. I think of this one thing as a sense of God with us – presence, deep rest, connection, compassion, contentment, grace and peace. It is an experience that makes us feel grounded and held and “okay” even on our most challenging days.
It Must Be Elsewhere, We Think
This is hadavar, the thing – the experience, the place – we seek and occasionally get a taste of. Though we are mostly not in that place, we remember it and know it exists; we have some inkling that we could get there, and so we grasp for it, we keep trying to get back there. And because the shift we experience in that place is so profound, so radically different from our ordinary mentality – it does feel like we have “gone to heaven” or travelled to a distant fantasy land – we imagine that to get there will be very very hard, that it will require a huge amount of effort and work, and that it cannot really happen unless we move out of where we are, that it cannot possibly occur in this very messy human existence, but only elsewhere, in a loftier more ideal place and person.
Habit of Turning Away
And so we develop a habit of turning away from where we are, especially if where we are feels difficult or uncomfortable. We develop a habit of aggression towards ourselves and our present reality, rejecting it in hopes of getting to that other faintly remembered place of peace. We become restless in search of rest, always grasping and reaching and seeking, always running away from the here and now, the way I am right now.
But all of that running and effort and restlessness, it only takes us farther away from that thing that we seek. We have been running our whole lives like a chicken with its head cut off in a thousand directions looking for this thing, and the only place we haven’t thought to check is right here, where we are. Which is where divine presence always resides, right here, where we are. That is the nature of presence. It makes no difference what the reality is. Divine presence is always present with what is. Wherever we are, there God is, being present. So when we run away from where we are, from how things are for us right now, we also run away from God, from what we seek, from the very experience we are wanting. The one thing we can never achieve by running is a sense of presence. And presence is the entryway to that land of peace and contentment we imagine to be on the other side of the sea. It’s not on the other side of the sea. It can never be anywhere other than here.
Returning To What’s True
And hereness feels so good. Even if the situation is difficult, hereness, being present, is a blessing, a balm, a secret tool no one can take away from us. To rest in what is. To let go of the constant tug of wishing that things were different, that I were different. Because so much of our suffering comes from our tendency to fight and struggle, to attack ourselves and how things are. I shouldn’t be feeling that way, we say. I should be happier, more grateful, more loving, more spiritual, less anxious, less tired, less angry, less inexplicably sad. So much internal aggression, rejection, invalidation, denial, a turning away from ourselves. Teshuva is a return to the truth of how things are for you right now, a return to the truth of you in all your imperfections. Teshuva does not mean “change,” but “return,” a much gentler word. Re-turning, turning again, this time not away, but towards yourself and your reality.
What is true for you right now? Acknowledging whatever pain or fear or sorrow is in your heart or your body at this moment, seeing it and experimenting with just letting it be. Noticing the urge to get rid of it, to struggle with it, to solve it, to turn away from it, to minimize it, to try to talk yourself out of it. Instead, turning towards it with curiosity and gentleness, making space for it, letting it be here, trusting that it is ok to feel it. Taking a deep breath and making space for it inside. It’s ok. It’s not wrong or a problem. Just letting it be here. There is so much relief, so much of God in that movement. So much of God in the seeing, in the clarity, in the honesty, in the spaciousness of allowing it to be here. Ah, there’s room for me as I am. I don’t have to change or run away. I can be right here, resting with what is. God is in that rest, in the absence of aggression and struggle, in the peace that can come even in a moment of terrible distress, when we stop fighting and just let it be.
That Shift Is So Close
And this is all so karov, so incredibly close to us, this experience. It does not involve an extensive journey or intense work or fancy footwork. The most profound shifts come from letting go of trying to shift at all and being exactly where we are. When we do that, when we stop trying so hard to change, we are indeed transported to another place, an alternate plane of existence – from right here.
As Yaakov says, akhen yesh Hashem bamakom hazeh ve’anokhi lo yadati. Behold God is in this place and I, I was not aware (Genesis 28:16). God is in this place. This place I am in. I thought I had to be different – better, more worthy, less of a mess – to connect to God. But no, in this place, where I am right now, as I am, in this place of distraction, or fatigue, of striving, of overwhelm, of anxiety, of shame, in this place of disgrace and guilt and imperfection, hamakom hazeh – God is in this place. How could you imagine that God was incapable of being with you in that state? Is God’s capacity for presence and love and grace so limited? As the Zohar says, Leit atar panui minei. There is no place devoid of God. Even in me, even in my lowest moments, there is no place devoid of God.
Angels All Around Us, Waiting
Ki karov. So close. It’s like God or perhaps God’s angels, are always hovering around us, so close, ever awaiting our awakening, our return to ourselves, our return to presence, to hereness, to this moment. They watch us fly off and abandon ourselves, deny our truth, run away from our pain, and they are sad, so sad, knowing how much extra suffering we cause ourselves. But they wait, patiently, tenderly, with trust and confidence, and with great compassion for our ongoing struggles. And when we do return, when we come back to ourselves, when we stop taking a hatchet to our experience for even a split second and rest with what is, oh, the rejoicing! Can you see the angels dancing and singing and laughing? They beckon you, too, into the circle. Will you join them? As one of my meditation friends, Rachelle Lackman, said in our group – “dancing with what is.” Dancing with what is. Bringing your pain into the circle with you as you dance with the angels and with God.
You have discovered the secret of divine presence. You don’t have to travel to it. It’s always wherever you already are. No matter where you are, there it is. All you need to do is return to the place you are. You’ll always find it there. God never leaves. It is we who leave.
Our Nod Of Assent
Maybe you can sense the readiness of the divine presence hovering around you, karov, so close, like an aura enveloping you, ever waiting for you. Ad yom moto tekhakeh lo. Until the day of our death, God waits for us. All it takes is a slight shift in your mindset, the tiniest opening, the almost imperceptible nod of your head in assent, hineni. I am here. I drop the tug of war with reality and come into presence with how things are for me. I consent. Just that tiniest of nods, and it’s all so close, God is so close, that’s all it takes for the floodwaters of relief and peace and love to enter. The party is on. I’ve said yes. Yes to this moment, yes to myself, yes to God, yes even to the pain. And all is now colored by that yes, all the sorrows and joys of this life painted with the vibrant brush of my yes. Hineni.
In The Blink Of An Eye
This shift is so close and ready that it can happen really fast, like the flip of a light switch. Yeshuat Hashem keheref ayin, my father used to say, “the salvation of God is like the blink of an eye.” It is always that karov, that close to us, wanting to happen, aching to come forth, as if on the tip of our tongues, on the tip of emerging, like a flower bud so ripe it is bursting to come into brilliant blossom. It’s so close, so ready. All it takes is one little movement, a nudge off the top of the waterfall and the water will come spilling down, the divine energy of peace and presence and contentment and clarity and compassion washing over us, it’s all that close, just the slightest nod of the head from us and it pours forth. We think we have to work so hard to make it happen, but we drive it away with our effort. It has to come down like dew on the grass, quietly, gently, surreptitiously.. It needs to come with ease, like falling off a camel.
Including the Resistance
It’s always so close, ever desiring to emerge, right here, where we are, and yet we are so often not here, but off climbing a ladder to the sky, trying hard to get to it by going away. And the truth is, if that’s our reality, if we are on the ladder of effort and restlessness right now, then we don’t fight that either, then that becomes the present reality that we turn back and say yes to. We don’t resist resistance or restlessness or striving. We accept and are present with it just as with any other energy. God can be with that, too. Wherever we are, that’s where God is. Each thing that we become aware of inside us, it is that thing that needs acceptance and turning towards, teshuva, returning to that truth, to this moment as it is for us, full of strife or struggle or confusion or distraction or terrible debilitating fatigue or perhaps full of joy and humor and playfulness. If that’s where we are right now, then that’s exactly where God is.
Ki karov elekha hadavar me’od. For this thing you seek, it is so close to you. Don’t run away from yourself. Stay right here and open to God’s presence with you, ever so close.
