Being cared for. Inhale.
Nurturing others. Exhale.
The tight, warm embraces from two female rabbis who inspire me. Inhale.
Creating religious space for others. Exhale.
Praying. Inhale.
Leading Prayer. Exhale.
Friday night services in an unfamiliar place with a community that felt familiar. Inhale.
Schmoozing at Shabbat Dinner. Exhale.
Therapy. Inhale.
Helping. Exhale.
The kind words of friends who remind me I'm loved. Inhale.
Counseling a friend. Exhale.
Learning. Inhale.
Teaching. Exhale.
Learning Aggadah at midnight (due to a time difference) from the teacher who helped me to fall in love with Talmud. Inhale.
Teaching about the history of Reform Judaism. Exhale.
Journaling. Inhale.
Blogging. Exhale.
The breath gives us life, and as such, can serve as an excellent metaphor for the input and output of our lives even though not all of the "inhales" above are actual input and not all of the "exhales" are actual output. The most important thing to remember about the metaphor of the breath is that both parts, the inhale and the exhale are equally as necessary. We must breathe in to bring oxygen into our body and breathe out to release the carbon dioxide. The things that help me to inhale are not any more (or less) valuable than those that help me to exhale.
This is a hard time of year. We forget to pay attention to what is helping us "inhale" or "exhale" let alone actually make sure we have both in our lives. We forget to breathe. But we need to breathe; it's how we stay alive. We need a balance of the "inhale" and "exhale": If we have too much "inhale," we may become lonely and isolated because humans are meant to share, but if we have too much of the "exhale," we may get burnt out to the extent that it becomes detrimental to our well-being to continue to "exhale" until we are able to "inhale" once more.
