For long periods in my life I fought against evil. I wanted to stop all the bad things in the world, and I mistakenly believed it was my job to fight them. After five years of studying class superiority, privilege as identity, and the ways people justify entitlement to advantages, I understood that my fight against evil was not only weakening me but also not really changing anything in the world. My dreams of changing the world or making it more just slowly dissolved in pain. Alongside the social struggle against evil, I also went through many close and frequent encounters with personal evil. It was the kind of evil that drained my life energy. I was not willing to acknowledge its existence or look at the ways it was affecting me. It crossed my boundaries, boundaries that were not fully clear to me. Instead of looking inward and defining myself, I believed I could fix it, and so life kept bringing me back to it again and again so I could learn how to deal with it. The most important thing I learned about evil is that there is no point in fighting it. Fighting, in a strange way, feeds it and gives it more power. To deal with evil I had to stop fighting it and stop fearing it. I had to accept its existence and let go of the wish to turn it into the good it is not. The fact that I argue with it keeps feeding it and pulls my attention and energy into a place that is not worth investing in. If I think about it, get angry because of it, or stay busy with it, it will take a price from me, a price I am not willing to pay. This does not mean that I justify evil or validate it. It means I let go of the desperate need to deal with it or judge it. It is the willingness to accept that among all the things that exist in the world, it exists too. Evil is not a trait of people. It is a quality that exists in the world and acts through people and toward people. Contrary to what we may think, many times it will be invisible. It will not show up announcing its intention to harm. It often shows up pretending to support, to help, or to do good. We might not notice at first, but after a while there is a feeling that something is not right. Sometimes it is very hard to point to what exactly is wrong, because it operates and thrives in the dark. It feeds on the energy of others, on people’s fears, on making others smaller, on manipulating reality or the story, and it does not hesitate to use anything in order to get what it needs to keep existing. When it finds a source of energy, such as a person whose boundaries are not fully clear to them or a situation it can use, it will use it to take. This is why the important thing in relation to evil is to listen to what we feel and to trust ourselves when it is sensed. On a social level, the places where we protect efficiency, become utilitarian, or cultivate pragmatism are places with a tendency to skip over ourselves, the human beings, and justify control. These are the areas where we focus on results, on being efficient, and on competition, and much less on processes and the people involved. There is something legitimate in speaking in favor of competition or pragmatism, but without noticing, these can permit almost invisible processes through which evil acts, processes that skip over humanity and serve hidden purposes. The way to deal with evil, which will continue to exist in reality, is from the inside out. If I trust what I feel, my sensations, and the things I am willing or not willing to engage with or participate in, I will have an inner compass that helps me recognize it. I do not need to fear it or fight it. That will only weaken me. Any attention I give to evil will keep feeding it and drain my resources.

In his book Sketch for a Self-Analysis  (2005), the French sociologist Bourdieu wrote that "to understand means first to understand the field in which and against which a person is formed." Society has a strong influence on the way we think, feel, and behave. The way we see ourselves, others, and the world around us is shaped by society’s attitudes toward us, including our social and economic status. People internalize these views and attitudes, and they appear in the social roles we take and in our self-perception (Mead, 1936). Sociological studies that examine self-perception in different social classes describe how belonging to a certain class affects our emotions, thoughts, and behavior. Studies on self-perception in schools of different social classes show that students in elite schools develop a self-view characterized by a sense of entitlement. This sense of entitlement is based on understanding the social rules of the game and the ability to use them for personal benefit (Lareau, 2002). In contrast, the self-perception of people from low socio-economic backgrounds is described as being marked by restraint and self-control and is linked to dealing with survival conditions, known as a sense of constraint. Studies have described different ways in which the sense of entitlement is formed and maintained. This feeling gives people positive emotions of belonging, involves social distance from those who do not belong, and includes a perceived right to elite education and to influence the lives of others (Gaztambide-Fernandez et al., 2014). The sense of entitlement is developed through messages and discussions that emphasize students’ belonging to a unique and special group. Teachers in elite schools in Israel described their students’ self-perception as highly intelligent and especially talented. Students in elite schools do not only have positive views about themselves, they are also confident that important adults such as teachers and parents see them in the same way. They described their right to elite education as being based on their special or exceptional abilities (Pinto Dror & Shoshana, 2024). In an American study, teachers in high socio-economic schools described their students using what was called soft individualism. This included the use of positive psychology, metaphors of growth and development, and encouragement to achieve goals. This type of individualism was linked to success and happiness. In contrast, teachers in low socio-economic schools used hard individualism and described their students as standing alone against the world, which is seen as a difficult and dangerous place. The meaning of this self-view is that strict boundaries, obedience, and close supervision are more common in low-status schools (Kusserow, 1999). The sense of entitlement also develops through informal knowledge about the rules of the system, how institutions work, and a communication style that includes confidence in speaking to authority figures in order to achieve personal goals. A study on help-seeking strategies in the classroom found that children from higher social classes ask for help more often and in more areas. Children from lower socio-economic backgrounds wait for the teacher’s approval, ask for less help, and lose out because they receive less attention and their emotional needs are met less often (Calarco, 2011). This is also connected to the parenting style common in higher social classes. This style, known as helicopter parenting, means that parents try to remove all obstacles from their children’s path in order to prevent frustration, disappointment, and difficult emotions. Schools in higher socio-economic settings were also found to promote a future-oriented self-concept. The school helps the student build a life story that creates meaning and understanding, which later shapes their development. These students develop the ability to imagine themselves in the future and to feel in control of future possibilities. This is a psychological resource that children from higher classes can later turn into economic and cultural capital (Silva & Corse, 2018). In contrast to the individualistic discourse that characterizes self-perception in higher socio-economic classes, life in lower socio-economic classes is described as a sense of restraint and limitation. This life experience is marked by a collective discourse that promotes a family and community-based self, along with social and political contextual traits. For example, in a study by Shoshana (2017), which examined how students from different social classes interpret a text about racism called "Brown Morning" by Franck Pavloff, students from low socio-economic schools gave interpretations based on real events in which they experienced racism, such as not being allowed into a club because of skin color. Students in elite schools gave interpretations related to a film they watched or a book they read, works that were distant in time and place. In another study by Shoshana (2019), students from higher classes described happiness as personal control over reality, and as something that requires constant self-management, autonomy, and individualism. In contrast, students from lower classes described happiness as unstable and dependent on conditions outside the individual, including social and political conditions. Seeing the social environment as contextual is also explained by the constant need of people from lower classes to deal with external limits and threats. This is the result of living in a reality of high objective risks such as job security, housing, personal safety, and health, along with fewer opportunities for choice, influence, and control. Such a reality also develops higher alertness to danger. Because of a low sense of personal control, there is a tendency to explain many situations through external causes. This is different from people from higher socio-economic classes, who have both material and psychological resources that allow them to develop a strong belief in their ability to shape and control their future. The sense of entitlement and the sense of restraint show the very different life experiences of individuals from different social classes. These feelings are maintained through social discourse, educational practices, emotions, and daily interactions, and they deepen inequality between different groups. Beyond increasing inequality, the maintenance of class-based identities keeps people from developing awareness of their self-perception, whether it is awareness of privilege or awareness of the effects of social oppression on the individual. Such awareness can expand understanding of the complex links between behavior, thought, emotions, and social class.    “One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious." Carl Jung

It may sound harsh, but sometimes it seems to me that my whole life has been a long struggle with setting boundaries. It wasn't easy for me to set boundaries and I'm still learning. Throughout my life I was sure that all people saw reality the same way I did and it felt unpleasant to set a boundaries, I was afraid that I might hurt or offend. I didn't understand, how is it that they don't understand? How is it that they do what they do? How is it that they don't see that they are hurting? Setting a boundaries came after quite a few times when i took on more than what was right for me or after I agreed to give up myself or parts of myself, which took a high mental and physical toll on me. So the boundary was accompanied by resistance, anger and perhaps also fear, which would increase the chaos and reduce the possibility of communication or personal responsibility for me and the person in front of me. The possibility of meeting the truth as it is, the possibility of clarity and understanding the situation without consequences and while taking responsibility would recede. The whole thing with boundaries is not easy, it can be confusing. There will always be external or internal forces acting on me and I will have to learn to deal with them. There will always be people who will need something from me that is more than I am willing to give at that moment, and I will have to be clear and unambiguous with them. Yes, there are people who ask for a clear boundary, one that cannot be interpreted or flexed, and I may have to deal with their reaction to the boundary. Sometimes, it is also not easy to recognize when the boundary has been crossed, because the crossing of the boundary will be almost transparent. The right words are said, but the energy behind them or the behavior that follows the words does not match them. Something feels wrong in the body. It is not easy to put your finger on what exactly is taking more from me than I am willing to give, what is it that leaves me drained and tired after interacting with certain people. More than being able to clearly say no (and by the way, I learned that "no" is a complete sentence, you don't have to go on with explanations after it), the real meaning of boundaries is not something we say, but something we do. Setting a boundary will not be related to what the other person does. It is the possibility of acting for me in a way that is soft and kind to myself. A boundary is an action, not something that is shouted, it is not an ultimatum, it is not said in anger and it is not something that I hope deep in my heart that someone will do for me. If, for example, I am waiting for someone around me to change so that I can be safe, so that I can be myself, that is not a boundary, that is a hope or expectation for something that is not worth building too much on. Even if a boundary feels like a punishment, it is not a boundary because a boundary is my way of protecting myself, my way of maintaining a regulated and calm nervous system, a way of maintaining peace. Only I know what is right for me and what I need right now. The knowledge of an internal boundary comes from within, from an internal knowledge of what I am willing or unwilling to tolerate, what blocks me or holds me back. It is always in relation to ourselves. If, for example, I think non stop thoughts about someone who did something bad or hurtful to me, this means that I allow them to live in my mind, allowing them space, free access. We can then say that I am crossing my own boundary. That I am putting my energy into what I am opposing, and whatever we are opposing will continue and intensify. The more we gather our focus and become concentrated and clear about what is right for us, what advances us, we will reduce the possibility of people and ourselves crossing the internal boundaries. Healthy boundary setting asks me to be in touch with my innermost truth. Instead of attacking or threatening, communicate clearly to myself first and then outwardly if necessary, what it is that I need right now, what is right for me and supports me. And if it is the person in front of me who is not able to give it to me right now, I am the one who can always give it to myself. A boundary is not a matter of ultimatums or war. It is an agreement I make with myself, an agreement that I commit to maintaining and keeping consistently even when it is difficult. “Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves even when we risk disappointing others.” Brene Brown Break Free Painting by Disha Dua

When we talk about belonging, we usually understand it as belonging to a group, a team, or a community. This is true, because we are born with a deep need for belonging, with the need for human connection, which is a survival need. The thing is that throughout our lives we internalize the social roles that the society and the family we were born into expect from us and place upon us. Since we will do anything in order to belong, to avoid being cast out of the tribe or the community, at a fairly early stage in life we learn to feel ashamed of who we are or of parts of ourselves. We begin to distance ourselves from who we are, hiding aspects of our true nature. A conflict begins to form between who we truly are and who we present outwardly. We lose the ability to create authentic connection, not only with others but also with ourselves. Authentic human connection requires us to reveal our true self, the self we sometimes feel ashamed of. And so we end up wandering through life with the sense that something in us is missing, feeling a lack that we usually try to fill with something or someone outside of us. Brené Brown described in her research on shame that the opposite of belonging is fitting in. When I ask myself questions like: Who do I need to be? How should I behave? What should I do in order to be accepted? How do I meet the expectations? I distance myself from myself, and from any possibility of true belonging. True belonging does not ask me to mold myself, does not ask me to distance myself from who I am, or to define myself in relation to someone or something based on what I am not. It may feel like a self-definition, but it is also a trap. If I act within the existing power structure out of a desire to belong, what is it that guides my actions? From which truth am I acting? To whom and to what am I committed? If I feel a sense of fitting in because I behaved as expected, it means I have betrayed myself. Belonging is the grace of simply being. The only possibility, then, is to define my own way of being in the world, independent of anyone or anything. It is not a simple task at all, but if I do not define my way, I will not belong to myself. I will lose my way in a world full of forces that will act on me and push me to behave in ways that distance me from my true self. I will act from fear rather than from love. After I grew tired of trying to belong and trying to change what is unjust in the world, I began asking myself: How can I come closer to myself? How can I act from my deepest inner truth? How can I be more and more myself? This requires examining how it is right for me to act in every situation. It requires me to face my deepest fears, and to let go of many things I once believed I needed. The years in which I worked in education taught me to trust the compass I can always return to: the compass of choosing love. It is the commitment to choose faith and patience, the only path to growth and development. It is the willingness to work with whatever is happening inside me, out of deep commitment to the young people in my care and to their unspoken needs. It is the commitment not to look for answers outside, not to blame others or myself for what happens to me. It is a willingness to walk the path, to face the shadows, to meet my own survival mechanisms. I am not to blame for them, and therefore I can be kind and gentle with myself when I encounter these parts within me. This is a journey that keeps expanding, and each time it asks for more trust, more patience, and more inner connection. A journey in which the only commitment is to my inner truth, to belong to what I perceive as good in the world, to love.   “ You only are free when you realize you belong no place - you belong every place - no place at all. The price is high. The reward is great… ” Maya Angelou   Picture taken from Pinterest

It often feels like things “happen” to us, that the problem is in the external circumstances, and that’s why we don’t succeed or things don’t go as we want. We find ourselves repeatedly stuck in a cycle, feeling trapped, without a way out and without a sense of control. To begin the journey out of the cycle we are trapped in, we need to befriend ourselves, to know intimately how we perceive reality and react to it, our triggers, and our automatic emotional patterns. When we feel them, it never feels like something new happening for the first time. It feels like an old emotion that has always been there. This means our early tendencies to feel hurt, angry, jealous, guilty, ashamed, or invisible. Our perception of reality, through our senses, happens in a flash and triggers a chain of internal and external experiences that make up our emotional response. We give meaning to this rapid process, and before we even blink, we already have a certain feeling that leaves no room for doubt: pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral. With this rising feeling, we judge the outside world as “good” or “bad.” Emotions rise strongly, and we tell ourselves a story or a full narrative about the experience, which becomes certain, fixed, and solid. Along with the story, our sense of self also becomes fixed and solid. The issue is not the patterns themselves, because all humans have them, but our clinging to early tendencies that make us interpret what we perceive in a fixed, absolute way. This is the tendency to pull toward what we want (pleasant) and push away what we don’t want (unpleasant). Our interpretation is usually related more to past experiences than to the present. When we are in this certain, absolute place, there is no room for questions, reflection, or observation. For example, you are walking down the street and see someone you recognize from work. You are happy to see them, wave hello, and they keep walking. If your early tendency is to feel unseen, unimportant, or worthless, the meaning you give to the experience will follow that tendency, and that becomes the story. It comes with contraction, leaving no space to examine the facts, uncertainty, or other interpretations, like maybe they didn’t notice me, or maybe they are preoccupied. This happens almost without our noticing; we label the experience and judge it as “good” or “bad.” Judging others and situations also means judging ourselves, which leads to feelings of worthlessness, shame, and loneliness. Lack of judgment allows a better understanding of the challenge we face, freeing us to address it with much more clarity and ease. The way to break free from conditioned early patterns is to weaken them. Train the nervous system that seeks certainty and control to stay directly with the experience, without judgment, without the story in our heads. This is very hard because the conditioned pattern happens in a flash, and we want to escape feeling it. We want to shortcut to judging the outcome as “good” or “bad,” to be certain. But there is always the option to stop emotional escalation, observe our thoughts, feelings, and impulses, return to the body, locate the emotion, and breathe with it, even if only for a short moment. I heard Pema Chodron describe anger as a rising fire within us, just like the flame of a candle or a volcano. We need to engage with it without the story, without labeling or judging. Connect to the living energy of the emotion, as something that connects us to other people, not something that separates. Christine Neff, a Buddhist psychologist, suggests a mantra for this moment: “This is a moment of suffering. Suffering is part of life. May I be kind to myself in this moment. May I offer myself the compassion I need.” Every time we even just notice that we are trapped, it is a lot, it is a sign we are on the path. We learn to befriend ourselves, to love who we are, and to know that we still have room to grow. SELF LOVE IS A REVOLUTIONARY ACT Picture taken from Pinterest

For the past few weeks, I have been diving into shame. Shame does not like to be spoken about, so I thought it might actually be a good idea to write a little about it. This is important because we all have it, and we are all very afraid to talk about it. The less we talk about it, the more control it has over our lives, and it is a destructive kind of control. Brené Brown suggests giving it attention, because we often use it in the wrong way, and this is very dangerous for us as a society. Unlike guilt, which means "I did something bad" and focuses on behavior, shame means "I am bad." It focuses on the self and leads to strong feelings of worthlessness. Humans are born with a need to belong, for human connection. So if, as children, we were made to feel bad or flawed for who we are, we develop deep feelings of shame. Shame makes us want to disappear, to hide, because anyone who discovers who we really are might reject us. Evolutionarily, its role was to make sure we were not cast out of the community or tribe, which could once mean death. Recent research on the power and intensity of shame shows that the physiological response to shame is the same as the response to trauma, which is why we do everything we can to avoid feeling it. Unlike true belonging, which is about an authentic self that knows we belong to ourselves no matter what, shame is the fear of disconnection. As a sociologist studying emotions, I look at how we use shame and its meanings in society, and it is a very effective kind of terror. We use it as a weapon, shaming groups of people, which leads to their dehumanization, allows people to call them derogatory names, and slowly makes immoral actions against them seem acceptable. Strangely, this can also make those people stronger or gain support from others who are angry and looking for someone to blame. When we see someone acting selfishly, immorally, or in an unacceptable way, we call them shameless. The truth is that an inflated ego may look like shamelessness, but the real drivers of immoral behavior are shame, fear, and feelings of worthlessness. Shame and humiliation will never be effective tools if we aim for social justice. What we really need is responsibility and empathy. In the years I have been teaching about social justice, I have learned that when conversations about racism or social inequality come up, shame comes with them. Without the ability to take responsibility and show empathy, responses will range from minimization, denial, ignoring others, or justifying the situation. To increase empathy, compassion, and belonging, we need to talk about shame, work through it effectively, and take responsibility for regulating our own emotions. This helps us create discussions that build social resilience and strengthen what we all need so much: empathy, compassion, and kindness. "What matters is not what others do to us, but what we do with what they have done to us." Didier Eribon, Return to Reims Barbara Steger - Shame (from Pinterest)

Throughout my life, I have observed reality and asked questions about justice, social gaps, and injustice. These were times when I not only resisted reality but also fought it with all my strength. I had a strong idea that the world should be a fair place. After my PhD, in which I studied how belonging to a high social class affects the way people think, feel, and act, I realized that not accepting reality as it is caused a lot of suffering in my life. Injustice and immoral actions are painful and need to change, but resisting them led me to get stuck in the emotions they created, adding another layer of suffering. I thought that accepting reality meant agreeing with it or being powerless to change it. This is, of course, a mistake. Reality is what it is, and even if I want to change it, I need to accept it as it is first, and then choose the most effective way to act. Any thought like, "This is not fair," "This should not have happened," or "Why me?" is a sign of resisting reality. Choosing to stop resisting reality and accepting it requires going through very painful emotions, like anger, rejection, humiliation, and more—emotions we do everything to avoid feeling. It is hard to stop, surrender, and allow ourselves to feel without escaping into looping thoughts or actions that usually make things worse. Instead of trying to get rid of the emotion or suppress it, we allow ourselves to be with what needs space, as much as we can. This does not mean the pain will disappear, but it gradually reduces the suffering caused by resistance to reality. I also remember the impact of accepting reality. In the years I managed a high school for teenagers with mental health challenges, there was one thing I radically accepted: the students exactly as they were. I intuitively understood that accepting them fully could support their belief in themselves and in the hard work needed to change patterns and create lives worth living. These were spaces of movement between acceptance and change. This requires willingness to face moments when we do not get what we want and to develop acceptance of what exists. We learn to understand the movement between dark and light, between contraction and openness in our hearts and bodies, and to see that these polarities are part of a larger whole. Acceptance and change do not contradict each other. Another principle of radical acceptance is that everything in the world has a reason. We may not always understand the reason, in the moment or at all, but there is an order and causality we need to humbly accept. Writing about radical acceptance is one thing; practicing it is completely different. Practicing radical acceptance is like a roadmap: at every crossroads, we must choose it again. Marsha Linehan says the way out of hell passes through misery. This means observing our emotions, continuously learning to accept and carry them so they can eventually break down and release. To do this well, it helps not to add "fuel to the fire"—not to think about the past or worry about the future, but to be with the alive energy of the emotion, because what stays in the dark grows in the dark. We carry the pain and keep returning our attention to the path of acceptance instead of resistance. Pema Chodron compares this to staying in the middle of a flowing river and allowing ourselves to flow with it. We want control, stability, and certainty, but organic flow is infinite space. When we are under pressure or in a storm, we cling to the riverbank, and then trouble begins. We can connect to this inner space, it has always been there and will always be there, and we can touch it through the natural openness inside us. This does not mean ignoring what needs to be done in life, but it allows us to do things from a broader perspective. It is not easy, but with continuous practice, we can improve. Grant me peace to accept the things I cannot change,Courage to change the things I can,And wisdom to know the difference. Serenity Prayer, Reinhold Niebuhr Picture taken from thecommonqueen.com

Looking at my emotions is the way I understand myself, others, and the world around me. Through the lens of emotions, I also explore questions of morality, power, and how they affect our inner world and social resilience. The deeper I go into emotions, the more I realize that emotions give life its meaning. They allow us to connect with ourselves and with others. Without emotions, we wouldn’t, for example, get up at night for a crying baby. If we are born with empathy and we came here to feel, how does it make sense that we hurt ourselves and others so much? How is it that instead of nurturing empathy and listening, we create division, isolation, and loneliness? Diving deep into the world of emotions, especially the complex connections between thoughts, feelings, and behavior, taught me that people will do almost anything to avoid painful emotions like shame, humiliation, fear, and more. Sometimes this includes hurting others or misusing the power they have, actions that are not moral. Few people can take responsibility for the harm they cause without denying it, blaming, or shutting down. This is dangerous because a society that suppresses and ignores pain allows injustice to continue, and people feel it’s not their problem. At the same time, deep down, we all want to feel more connected, more alive, and more part of life, ourselves, and those around us. We grew up in a society that doesn’t value emotion, and we learned to run from our feelings. The more we run, the less we understand ourselves and the further we move from true human connection. Real connection requires emotional vulnerability and showing our true selves, parts we are sometimes ashamed of. We fear that if people see all our sides, we won’t be worthy of connection. This is the opposite of connection, it is the fear of disconnection. To feel is to take responsibility for our emotions, not act them out. As Brené Brown says, “We want to remember the wound, not become the wound.” We can change unhealthy emotional patterns into ones that support self-worth and responsibility. This requires understanding that emotions are complex, a whole system of interconnected parts. Yet, we often treat them in a simple, binary way: “positive” (pleasant) or “negative” (unpleasant). We try to get rid of the unpleasant ones to avoid pain. We suppress emotions and judge ourselves for having them, trapped in our heads and focused on being “right.” This creates internal conflict, reactivity, and frustration. Ignoring or pushing away emotions doesn’t work, they only grow stronger. Even when we feel in control, emotions are the ones controlling us. To understand our inner world, we need a different approach: openness and curiosity toward our emotions, thoughts, and behaviors. Emotions are messages, the source of real insight. They guide us to our pain, show us what truly matters, what we care about, and what drives us toward positive change. We need courage to allow ourselves to feel pain. Feeling sadness or other painful emotions doesn’t mean anything except that we are human. If we let ourselves truly feel, without judgment or trying to change it, emotions can flow through us like waves, reach their peak, and eventually release. This leaves us more whole, connected to ourselves, and better able to handle life’s challenges. I have learned that courage is being at the edges, holding even painful emotions. Being at the edges brings clarity and beauty to life. When I allow myself to feel, I expand my freedom. I can be close to myself, act in line with my values, and stay connected to my beliefs. I know I will always need to practice holding these edges. It may feel like we do it for others, but it mostly rewards us: we become more authentic, more connected to ourselves, and that is true belonging. “You are only free when you realize you belong no place – you belong every place – no place at all. The price is high. The reward is great.” Maya Angelou   Picture taken from Pinterest

we’ve learned to run away from unpleasant emotions. It’s almost an instinctive reaction to escape feelings like fear, pain, or shame. Since childhood, we’ve carried pain we couldn’t express, and over the years, more painful experiences have been added moments when our emotions weren’t acknowledged or validated. We’re afraid that if we touch even slightly the sadness we carry, it might awaken all the buried feelings inside us. To reduce the pain, we developed strategies to “cut off the edges,” to numb or blur the discomfort so we don’t have to feel it. These strategies helped us survive as children, but as adults, they often hurt us, harm our relationships, and limit our lives. Research shows that we can’t truly avoid our emotions. It might seem to work in the short term, but in the long run, it leads to inner chaos. Throughout my life, I’ve struggled with anger. I used to act out of anger and it didn’t lead to good results, nor did it solve the anger itself. In fact, it only grew stronger. I learned that instead of acting on anger, a more effective way is to observe it to feel the alive energy of anger in the body, which feels like burning fire. To allow it to be there, a little at a time, as much as I can. Gradually, beneath the anger, I discovered deep sadness and pain about goals I couldn’t reach, injustices in the world, and feelings of loneliness and not belonging. Allowing the pain to exist opened the door to self-compassion and to a sense of shared humanity that includes suffering as part of life. Accepting reality with the pain and sadness that come with it allows movement toward clarity and a more meaningful life. Emotions carry messages. Fear, for example, warns us that something might threaten our physical or emotional safety. From an evolutionary perspective, fear had an important role in survival — without it, we wouldn’t have lived long. Fear used to signal danger, like a tiger chasing us, so we could run away. Today, many of our fears are leftovers from evolution, they don’t match the real situations we face. We sense something, interpret it as danger, and the body activates a fight-or-flight response. To tell the difference between real and imagined fears, we need to notice when fear fits the situation and when it doesn’t. It’s not always easy, fear can sneak in in many forms, and it’s often hard to catch in real time. Once fear takes hold, our body tenses, which can lead to more distress. Our goal isn’t to suppress fear or act it out, but to move closer to what feels threatening so it loses its power over us. This is how we can slowly free ourselves from it. Our emotions guide us through life. They help us connect to ourselves and to others. They are not who we are , but when we believe we are  our emotions, we get “taken over” by them, and they start to control our behavior. Recognizing an emotion is the first step toward change. Usually, there’s a triggering event before an emotion appears. We can pause and ask: What happened just before this feeling arose? What triggered it? When fear comes up, we might ask: What feels threatening right now? Am I truly in danger at this moment? We can also bring curiosity to our emotions: Where do I feel this in my body? How strong is it? How does it change from moment to moment? What thoughts come with this emotion? When thoughts keep looping in our mind, it’s often a sign that we’re avoiding the feeling beneath them. In those moments, we can pause and ask: What am I running away from right now? Then gently return to the body, to slow and mindful breathing. Sometimes thoughts like I can’t take this anymore or this will never end will appear, but if we pay gentle attention to the sensations in the body, we can notice that emotions, just like thoughts, come and go like waves. Each wave passes through us and leaves us more connected and whole. We wouldn’t want to live without emotions. Without them, life would lack color, depth, and meaning. The courage to feel what we usually label as “unpleasant” is what expands our compassion toward ourselves and others. It’s where our emotional resilience and wellbeing grow. Sometimes we need to understand an emotion, and sometimes just to observe and let it move through us. Instead of resisting, suppressing, denying, or avoiding, we can meet what’s alive in us with soft acceptance including our vulnerability and imperfection. With patience, we may discover that paying attention to our emotions is, in fact, paying attention to all of life. “The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.” Carl Rogers Picture taken from DBT course by Marsha M. Linehan

I have an intimate relationship with anger. I know its living energy well, it feels like fire and comes with very real physical reactions. For many years, I was angry. I had a deep wish to stop all the wrong and exploitative things in the world, everything I saw as injustice or harm. I didn’t realize how much anger was costing me. It was simply there, with no question or choice. I acted from it, and my actions didn’t bring satisfying results. The people I argued with only became more certain of their own views, and I was left with even more anger. Cruelty, exploitation, violence, and injustice do justify anger. When people treat us badly, it’s natural and fair to feel angry. In situations that might harm us, anger serves as a warning it tells us that something is wrong and can help us set boundaries. Like all emotions, anger is legitimate; we don’t need to reject it. However, because we humans don’t like to face our own flaws directly, anger toward others can also be a sign that we’re disconnecting from the parts of ourselves we don’t like. When we project those unwanted traits onto others, it helps us maintain a positive self-image. The problem is that then our self-image and reality don’t match and this projection blocks us from growing. For years, I believed that being angry meant I was fulfilling my moral duty toward injustice and wrongdoing. Letting go of anger felt like giving up in the face of what’s happening. Anger does give us energy and courage to act but it’s a blind energy. It can easily become destructive to our own interests. Learning to regulate anger helps us avoid impulsive reactions and act more wisely and effectively. Another important understanding about anger is that everything in life has the potential to frustrate us, disappoint us, and make us angry. The things we get angry about are part of reality and we, as human beings, are also bound by the laws of reality, even when we don’t like or agree with them. This time in history is especially challenging because we’re constantly exposed to reports of violence, abuse, and corruption not only here in Israel, but all over the world. Our minds struggle to hold so much human cruelty, and that can awaken feelings of anger, frustration, and despair. I remind myself that violent events have always existed throughout history today, we simply know more about them. Since I don’t have the power or authority to change the world, I understand that the only reasonable choice is to change my inner attitude toward it. This means paying attention to which emotional and mental states help me and which ones harm me. Anger makes me lose myself in the suffering of the world. But I can be sensitive to the pain of others without getting lost in it. In fact, that’s how I can become a stabilizing force in the face of all that’s wrong. The more of us who act not from anger and hate but from love, sensitivity, healthy boundaries, and self-respect the more we can help balance the world. So instead of trying to silence anger, repress it, act from it, or scold ourselves for feeling it we can pause for a moment, listen, and ask: What does this anger mean? What is it trying to tell me? Where do I feel it in my body? How strong is it from 1 to 10? We can hold anger gently, allow it to be there, focus on the raw, living experience of it, and get to know it as much as we can. Like running, this should be done gradually: start with the small irritations and slowly move toward the deeper anger that comes from being hurt by someone. Anger is a vital and important emotion. If we learn how to approach it with awareness, it can become a source of growth and expansion. “Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.” Carl Jung

When Yahli, my son, was a little boy, he would occasionally say, "Mom, I want to go home." Yahli, I would answer him, we're already home. I understood then that there was something beyond his words, but I wasn't sure what he meant. In recent years, I've been reminded of his desire to return home, this longing for home, which is actually the longing for ourselves. A longing for a place of peace and quiet. It's hard to describe this feeling in words, the closest thing we can get is perhaps the feeling we have when we arrive at our physical home after a long day of work or a road trip. We open the door, take off our shoes, take off our outerwear, take a deep breath and relax into the silence. A moment of breathing and space. In recent years I have been on a journey home, a journey to a place that was always there, but I abandoned it, probably quite early in my life. The ongoing discovery is of the space within me, a space of peace. Gradually I am discovering that this place within me can exist, regardless of external circumstances or where I am physically. For me, it has been learning to turn the heartbeat inward. Long months of conscious breathing into the heart are advancing me towards permanent residence in the temple that has been abandoned for so many years. It is a heart that no longer seeks comfort, pain relief, recognition or approval from anyone or anything external. A heart that does not seek to take anything or receive anything from anyone. It is like meeting the world from a place of neutrality, without wanting anyone or anything to be other than they are, or than they appear to be. A journey of parting from the thought that anything or anyone external can free me, give me freedom or security. It is only I who can give myself the home within myself. On this journey, I am constantly being asked to come closer to my innermost and deepest truth. It is not easy because throughout my life I have learned to hide it, not only from others, but also from myself. The thought or belief that accompanied me was that if I spoke it or acted on it, I would have no place in the world, I would not truly be able to be. That I am loved on the condition that I meet the expectations of bottomless giving. On the journey inward, I am asked time and again to cultivate a willingness to give up everything, truly everything. The need for love or approval from outside, the need for certainty, the need to be something or someone in this world. It feels like big concessions, but I discover that these are not concessions at all, because there is nothing to really hold on to. Absolutely nothing. Any hold on to something external turns out to be a barrier to that feeling of home within myself. Whoever you are is enough, you are good just the way you are, just as you are. It is difficult because I have learned that in order to be good, I must take care of everyone. As life went on, the need to give was joined by the need to right wrongs and change reality. Which, of course, turned out to be an impossible task. The journey is toward accepting reality exactly as it is without wanting it to be anything other than what it is. There is humility in accepting fate as it is. I can't really control other people's behaviors and I can't really change anything in the external circumstances of life. This includes agreeing to accept this moment when some people are better off and some are worse off, some have plenty of food and some have nothing to eat, some die and some are born, some fall in love and some have their hearts broken. To agree that there are wrongs and injustices and that life is not fair, sometimes even to me. My journey home goes through the need to get rid of the need to take care of others, the need to correct those who don't always want correction, and to get back to myself. You can't do this without learning to calm your nervous system, to sit with the emotions that we usually run away from, to agree to feel what is asking for space. At first, it seemed to me that it would never end. Every time I allow myself this space, I emerge from it a little more whole, a little more peaceful. Every time I breathe with awareness of my heart, I inhabit the house, the temple within me, and I draw closer to myself, to the possibility of peace within me.

October 7th brought us together with emotional intensity we had never experienced before. Shock, rage, anger and pain accompanied by fear, anxiety and uncertainty. We had never been in such a state of war, of chaos. What did we hold on to in a moment we had never experienced? What do we hold on to when the ground is falling away from under our feet? In difficult times, we often operate from a survival system of "fight or flight." We believe in thoughts, fears, and horror scripts and without noticing, "fuel" emotions that increase war within us. The test is to grasp the vulnerable moment without clinging to the familiar pattern. To allow ourselves to be - with the pain, with the uncertainty and sadness, without repressing, ignoring, running away, or defending. It is a challenge to remain in the in-between state where we do not know what is happening, do not hope to know, and do not pretend to know. To choose to turn light inward, to identify what begs for attention and change, is the courage to hold the edges. The courage to meet ourselves exactly as we are, with the shadow areas. A broken heart gives rise to fear, sometimes also anger and guilt. Beneath them lies the softness of deep sadness. Sadness teaches us compassion, choosing the path of the heart and connecting to humanity. We have no control over the war outside, but we have the ability to stop the war within and between us. A crack and another crack of light will eliminate great darkness. A time to increase the light, the connection and peace between the inner and outer parts. From within and without. From the exhibition “A Year of Heroes” Curator: Naomi Gordon Chen Photography: Naama Ben Shmashon