Egoic Illusions of Separateness

The famous Biblical dictum "Love your neighbor as yourself" is generally explained to mean that you must love yourself first before you can love your neighbor. This interpretation rests on the tacit assumption that you and your neighbor are separate entities. But what if that assumption is nothing more than an illusion of the ego?

I have come to realize - first conceptually, then experientially - that this is indeed an illusion. If neighbor and self are not truly separate, then love is not a relation but a recognition of unity. The task is to liberate ourselves from this illusion of the individual ego.

Of course, this is easier said than done. I see at least two formidable obstacles we must overcome for such liberation. The first is our identification with the physical body. If asked "Who are you?", few people will answer directly "I am the body", yet many assume it unconsciously. From this false identification it is only a short step to the illusion that each of us is a separate entity, delineated by a physical body.

The second, more subtle obstacle is our language. It is supposed to serve us, but in fact many people are controlled by it through labeling - an unconscious and automatic mechanism that interprets every physical body as a separate entity. These labels include, first and foremost, names, then family background, education, profession, social status, and so on. In this way language constantly reaffirms separateness through subject-predicate-object structure. Even "I am X" is a trap.

Conceptual labeling through language is not limited to individuals. We are not only labeled collectively by others but also label ourselves collectively. This is the illusion of the collective ego. Even "mankind" is a subtle example of such labeling.

Had Zamenhof encountered the experiential teachings of Chassidus, he might have seen that the unity he longed for was already present beneath the illusions fostered by language.

My hopefully constructive criticism of Esperantism is based on my own years of involvement. When I left, I explained that I did not "discriminate" against Esperanto, but simply lost interest in languages and linguistics after realizing that language often serves as the gatekeeper of the egoic mind.

Sadly, I saw this dynamic also among (some) Esperantists when I heard a rumor that I had left because I discovered what they labeled a "fanatic Jewish sect" - namely, Chabad Chassidus. I also witnessed how one important international organization demonized an entire national association by labeling it collectively. Zamenhof longed to dissolve borders, but some of his followers erected new ones in his name.

All identities, whether individual or collective, are ultimately illusions of the ego. Seeing through these illusions means shifting from self-consciousness to Divine consciousness - recognizing that all creatures are Divine sparks, parts of the Universe, like waves in the ocean.

Chassidus does not end with dissolving the self into oceanic unity. Its ultimate aim is to return the self - body and ego included - as a sanctified vessel for Divine presence.

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Two Types of Silence

For many years I've found myself in two opposing situations, wondering why so many keep silent on the one hand, and why so many people don't keep silent on the other. Last week I suddenly recognized two types of silence stemming from two fundamentally different sources. They may seem the same externally, but if you are sensitive enough, you'll feel they emit totally different vibes.

The first type of silence stems from the ego. It's the type of silence that occurs when you owe someone else gratitude or an apology. This is more than just a matter of good manners. By remaining silent, you continue adding dirt to the channel through which blessings from the Universe reach your internal "vessel".

Since I realized this some time ago, I've stopped feeling frustrated with the bad manners of such people and started feeling sorry for them, as they are depriving themselves of this precious opportunity to prepare this "vessel".

The second type of silence stems from the soul. It's the type of silence that occurs when you realize the powerlessness of language and all you can offer is presence though many people seem to prefer speech to silence in this context, without realizing that the more you speak, the more you distance yourself from the person you want to connect with. There are contexts in which silence is more eloquent than speech.

Since I realized an aspect of language I had never been taught - even as a student of linguistics - as the gatekeeper of the egoic mind, I've stopped asking questions to collect materials for labeling those I speak to, especially when I meet them for the first time. I simply try to sense their vibe in silence. I've experienced again and again how visibly the attitude of those who "investigate" me changes as they know more about me, or more of my life stories.

Though I accept the speech of so many people in this context, I myself refrain from asking the same type of questions and remain silent. I've even found an ultimate answer to put an end to the most common starter of this "investigation". When someone I meet for the first time asks me, "Where are you from?" I answer them, "I'm always here and now." ;-)

As I may have written before, I experienced the powerlessness of speech and the power of silence when I saw someone I had known for many years - but had never had the chance to talk to from heart to heart - sitting alone on a bench outside about two years ago back in Jerusalem. When I understood that she had been diagnosed with an advanced stage of cancer, I instinctively felt any kind of speech would be totally out of place. I simply hugged her and kissed her forehead, then just remained with her on the same bench for about half an hour, holding her hands in silence.

I'm "transplanting" this important lesson into a new area. Since I live in near social isolation in this new place, especially Jewish-wise, I've found a new "minyan" - dogs, flowers, and leaves. I greet them in language (Russian, by chance), then caress them in silence. They never ask questions to label me afterwards. They remain silent instead. They have taught me when to speak and when to keep silent. I'm "exporting" this to my interactions with fellow two-legged animals. If I organize a special tour to take live lessons from dogs, flowers, and leaves, will you join me? ;-)

Two "Exiles"

In July 1993 I had to leave Jerusalem after five years of PhD studies for financial reasons. It took me 11 years to return, in August 2004. To my pleasant surprise, I was offered a position at another Israeli university in the same area where I had done my PhD - against all odds. Many people advised me to compromise and look for a job in other, more "realistic" areas. But I never gave up.

This first "exile" of mine was not an easy one, especially because, in retrospect, I was completely controlled by the ego and wasn't even aware of it. Toward the end of those 11 years I unconsciously did what I would later learn to do more consciously: give up the illusion that I control my life. Soon after, I received an invitation to teach at the university I mentioned above.

Ironically, I left what seemed like a dream job in September 2020 of my own will, as a result of a soul reckoning. This itself was the result of my spiritual awakening, triggered by my unexpected divorce and accelerated by my subsequent encounter with - and systematic study of - Chabad Chassidus. After leaving academia, I started a new personal business aligned with my newly found life mission. But this fateful - some might say "fatal" ;-) - change eventually brought about my second "exile" for the very same reason.

I had to make a very difficult decision to leave Jerusalem again at the end of September 2023, without knowing at the time that this second "exile" held at least one blessing in disguise - one I could only recognize from within "exile".

Comparing these two exiles, I now see some fundamental differences. Thanks to my spiritual transformation, I'm no longer controlled by the ego though I can't claim to have fully tamed it. In some ways, the financial challenges in this "exile" are even greater. In the first "exile" I had a job secured in advance. This time I had to find sources of income from scratch.

But again, it was when I gave up the illusion of control that "miracles" began to happen. My financial saviors appeared out of the blue and out of nowhere, both in the first and second years of this exile. I just want to let you know about the second, still ongoing, "miracle".

Toward the end of my first year I began to feel anxious about how I would support myself in the year to come - this year. I also began to think more seriously about the power of Chassidic tales as a way to complement my new work sharing Jewish life wisdom based on Chassidus. Just two weeks later I was offered a job translating Rabbi Nachman's tales from Hebrew and Yiddish - by a former colleague of mine at the very Israeli university I had left!

In addition to this key difference between the two "exiles" there is another: this time, I'm not thinking about returning to Jerusalem. First and foremost, for financial reasons - my personal pension doesn't seem sufficient to live, at least not in the same neighborhood where I used to live. I can make far better use of the same amount by living somewhere more affordable.

That's the main "negative" reason for not returning. But I also have a "positive" reason. There is one city in another country where I feel drawn to live. In fact, I visited it two months before leaving Jerusalem, and I fell in love with it anew! Sorry, Jerusalem and Jerusalemites, ;-) but in a sense I miss it even more than Jerusalem.

I've also come to realize that throughout my life, whenever things became too comfortable, I would pull myself out of that comfort zone. I used to do this unconsciously, but now I do it consciously. I'm not so naive as to idealize this new city as a rosy garden. On the contrary: it's precisely the new challenges I expect to encounter there that will likely help me grow more than Jerusalem, which I know too well - for better or worse.

I've already begun thinking about the best time of year to visit Jerusalem from this new city. So far, my conclusion is around the 19th of Kislev. Not so much because of this Chassidic holiday per se, but because of the annual Chassidic book fair held in Jerusalem during that time. I was fortunate to visit it three times. I still vividly remember the excitement I felt each time I stepped into the huge venue. Yes, I'm ready to fly just for that event!

In the meantime some of the Chassidic books I bought there continue to encourage me with their very presence in my relocated library, here in this second "exile" even when I don't open them.

Knowledge vs. Wisdom

Since childhood, I've always loved learning - especially reading books. I never imagined I would not only complete a PhD but also teach at a university. Even less did I imagine that one day I would voluntarily walk away from a tenured academic position.

Looking back, I see more clearly what has truly drawn me all along: not knowledge, but wisdom. Yet as a child, I didn't know that wisdom could even be learned - much less how.

One of the most life-changing realizations that came to me through spiritual awakening was that knowledge and wisdom are fundamentally different. Once I saw that, it didn't take long to realize that academia was not the place to acquire the kind of wisdom I had always been seeking: not conceptual, theoretical wisdom, but life wisdom - practical, lived, and applicable to all aspects of being.

Through an incredible chain of "chance" encounters, I discovered Chabad Chassidus. I was deeply fortunate to spend three years studying its profound teachings - especially its unique psychology - at a special school in Jerusalem. I still remember those years as the most meaningful period in my life, in terms of both the quantity and quality of wisdom I absorbed like a sponge.

But this was not the end of the journey - only its incubation. I now see that those years prepared me to begin sharing these teachings with people who would otherwise have no access to them. Since I left academia five years ago, I've taken on a life mission: to transform darkness into light by spreading this life wisdom among a particular group of people - those who, in my view, are deeply entrenched in "darkness", and do not even realize it.

For the first time in my life, I feel that my professional activities are fully aligned with my life mission. And that gives me immense joy and gratitude.

Of course, I'm not free from challenges. Perhaps the greatest is this: the people who could benefit most from what I offer often don't know what they don't know. How can I reach them?

But I try to see this, and all my other challenges, as part of a perfect Divine choreography - tailor-made opportunities for internalizing the faith that everything is good, and the confidence that the Universe will give me the strength to discover that everything is good. These obstacles are also the perfect means for cultivating patience and compassion, which, I've come to see, are my life purpose in this lifetime.