Reimagining Your Script

MyLife Essay Contest

When a careless driver smashes into your $35,000 car, you become filled with rage. All the thousands of words of Chassidus you have learned flee your mind instantaneously, leaving no residue. You’re fixated on the wellbeing of your car. You’re furious.

Why is it that at times like these you lose faith and trust? What happened to all those ideas of Chassidus piled up in your brain, all those teachings that told you to accept everything as Divinely ordained?

The seventh Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, was one of three children. He had two brothers, Berel and Leibel. During the Holocaust he lost his brother Berel. A number of years later, in 1952, his youngest brother Leibel passed away suddenly from a heart attack, at the tender age of 42. The Rebbe suffered a great loss. After the shivah , when the most intense period of mourning had ended, the Rebbe said a brief talk, concluding with the following words:

צריך האדם ליגיעה רבה ועבודה עד שיהי’ במדרי’ כזו, שבעת הנפילה והירידה ירגישו בפועל, ולא רק להאמין או להבין, איך שאינה אלא הכנה מוכרחת לעלי’ למדרי’ עליונה ביותר.

“A person must make a huge effort and do inner work until he reaches such a level, that when he falls and regresses he can actually feel, not merely believe or understand, how this is merely an indispensable preparation for unsurpassed growth” (Likkutei Sichos vol. 27, p. 364).

This means: When you are down, it is a great challenge to actually feel, not simply to believe or understand, that what is happening is a crucial phase in the improvement of your life.

The talk ends suddenly without any direction of how to approach the task practically. Studying these words frustrated me. I wondered: How can the Rebbe give us such a difficult assignment and then leave us hanging?

Another question that bothered me was: If Chassidus is really so compelling, why should it be so hard for us to feel it? Why should it require a rocky, emotionally colored ride?

Here are some of my thoughts to you on navigating the journey.

Let’s face it, we surround ourselves with the people we like. People that are kind, helpful and make us feel good about ourselves. We spend hours in different restaurants eating the delicacies that suit our taste. We go on different adventures that make us happy, vacationing in exotic islands and touring bustling, exciting cities. We write the script of our lives. We decide how much pleasure we reasonably “deserve,” and how much suffering is “acceptable.”

G-d writes the script of our life too and more often than not, it’s slightly different than our version. Loss of a loved one. A car accident. Getting mugged. Or it could just be “first world problems”: WiFi is down. The computer crashed. Nobody liked your latest post.

Your script has turned its back on you. You feel helpless and upset. You’re banging your head against a brick wall. It hurts.

Where do our scripts come from? During our lifetime, we encounter multiple scenarios, some of which bring us pleasure and others that we detest. From a young age we identify the experiences that make us happy and those which have the opposite effect. These are the first tidbits of our grand performance being scripted. We gradually decide what life is likely to throw us, which becomes our security and the key to our stability. But the mistake comes when we develop an emotional attachment and dependency on our mortal scripts. Then . . . BAM! G-d plays G-d and edits your grand production. He decides that just about now, during scene thirty-two, something unpredictable will happen. You will have a small meltdown and rethink your existence. You didn’t plan for this and can’t see the goodness of G-d in it.

What’s the solution?

Chassidus teaches us that the most important spiritual discipline is bittul, which literally means “erasing” the sense of self. But what does that mean in real life and how do you practice it healthily?

Bittul means that you’re going to have to fire your ego. Your ego is the CEO of the corporation called you. Yes, you are human and have a need to have some control of your life’s narrative, but that doesn’t have to consist of a rigidity that has no “edit” option. Sketch a fluid scale of what you want things to look like and leave an eraser and pencil nearby so you can happily make some changes. It’s important to have some structure and goal in mind but give it some elasticity. The Rebbe would often cite the Talmudic saying: “A person should always be soft like a reed and not hard like a cedar.” (Babylonian Talmud, Ta’anis 20b)

Step away from the wall and stop banging your head on it! Reimagine your script so scene thirty-two does have room for some tragedy, but a later scene shows how it was all worth it.

Then you are less likely to become angry at what G-d throws your way. Anger is a judgement. When your justice system has been violated, anger is the feeling that your narrative should be carried out, but instead you’re the one who’s been fired. Anger only comes out of a unyielding commitment to your script. Loosen your attachments to it, and make yourself a willing receptacle for G-d’s providential hand. Let His story take the stage.

Several months ago, while I was abroad in a foreign country, I was in a major car accident. Both cars were wrecked and the driver of the other car ended up in hospital. I suffered from shock on many levels: mental, emotional and physical (though, thankfully, I was spared from even minor injuries). To process all this turmoil, I recreated the scene in my head as if everything that happened that day was a prelude to happier things. I created a positive association with that fatal day and allowed myself to let go and forgive G-d for this shocking incident.

I want you to start thinking about how you can reimagine the script of your life, especially in the places you have the most pain. See if you can shift the story, just a little, towards an outcome that doesn’t make you feel quite so bad. And if you can make yourself laugh, all the better. When you’re faced with a challenge that shakes your walls, you’ll have already trained yourself to be malleable and positive. Even when you suffer setbacks, you will be able to forgive G-d quickly and move on. As soon as you can forgive, your anger will evaporate.

The Rebbe highlighted this task as being a “יגיעה רבה” — requiring “great effort”. But that shouldn’t scare you: There’s always a solution. It may include strenuous inner work, but if you have the courage to challenge some of your limiting beliefs, which is what living with Chassidus demands, you will see results.

About the Author:

Leah Miller likes to color outside the lines, think with her heart and change her mind a lot. She is a junior team­member at the Brooklyn based modest clothing boutique, Mimu Maxi. She graduated in 2015 from Bnos Menachem High School in Crown Heights, and looks forward to spending a year in Italy at Beis Chana seminary.