122. Breakup Letter – Ezra Bookman
Photo Credit: Ali Levin Photography
Holidays feel like a pattern of lakes alongside the road of life: they invite us to pull over, rest, refresh, and examine ourselves in their reflection.
I design rituals for a living, so needless to say I really appreciate the power of holidays. Holidays feel like a pattern of lakes alongside the road of life: they invite us to pull over, rest, refresh, and examine ourselves in their reflection. Each unique lake shows us a different reflection of ourselves. And each year we return to the same water to see how we’ve changed, to witness in its reflection what’s new in us.
But to be honest—I've never been a huge fan of Hanukkah. Latkes, sure (#teamsourcream), but my family were never big gift givers, and growing up in Miami meant I was deprived of all the warm, cozy camaraderie of winter holidays. Plus, dreidels are fun for about eight seconds, not eight days, and the milk chocolate coins wrapped in tinfoil? Meh.
In the mythic story that Hanukkah commemorates, a small band of ancient Hebrew freedom fighters go to war with their Greek oppressors and win against all odds. They reclaim their Temple and light up their holy candelabra with oil that was supposed to only last one day but miraculously lasts for all eight days of their celebration.
Miracles are flashy, so understandably that's the part of the story that gets all the attention. But there’s a little detail I rediscovered this year that feels particularly poignant. Before they lit the candelabra, these exhausted soldiers first cleaned the temple top to bottom, getting rid of all the idols of Greek gods that didn’t belong, all the gunk and garbage that was left behind. They had to clear their space so their light would shine.
This year I’m spending Hanukkah alone. What had once been a time of constant party hopping has become quiet and introspective. I'm okay with that. With nowhere to rush off to, no obligatory dreidels or chocolate, I’m spending my time staring at the candle flames, reflecting on the year as I watch them drip slowly. I'm noticing the light, my light, and the darkness around it. I think I can see my reflection.
– Ezra Bookman
Prompt:
Choose one bit of gunk you want to get rid of, something you don’t want to carry with you into 2021. A negative thought you use to put yourself down, a limiting belief or bad habit. Some idol in your inner temple that’s holding your light back from the world. Write it a goodbye letter, as if you’re breaking up with it.
Laura King
Location: Vermont
About: I am just starting to explore more introspective pursuits and am enjoying the quiet and space to do this. A true gift from this year.
Age: 51
Dear future-oriented worry,
It is time to say good-bye. I am breaking up and moving on. You have been there for me when I focused my attention on planning, and you did your best to give the illusion of security and peace and ease. Now that I see our relationship was keeping the sun from reaching me and warming me, it is time to go our separate ways.
I leaned on you and you were there for me. Trying your best to support me and my next worries, and next and next. An exhausting relationship indeed. Now I am standing on my own two feet, not leaning on you, no longer searching for assurances on how things are all going to work out.
This can’t have been a satisfying relationship for you either, since all that grew between us was disappointment after disappointment. Then resentment and a feeling of being caged in, in a box too small.
By not holding out hope for delayed gratification someday, I now have more joy and happiness in my daily life. Knowing how to be content and feel little delights by the simplest joys, I no longer desire to wish or hope or insist or fret on the ending or eventual outcome, instead, I am savoring what I have today.
So, we are both free at last. A reason to celebrate indeed.
May you savor this moment, and feel all that you feel, and by doing so stop putting life on hold. The projected future is a fictional creation that will always make the present never seem good enough. Being here and wanting to be there is a trick of the mind, the imagination and a way to constantly be dissatisfied. Slow down, take care of yourself, and you will find your way to be present now and the joy the follows.
Adieu,
Laura