Okay Either Way

There’s a strange kind of freedom in having something available… and choosing not to use it.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately: the relationship between abundance and enoughness, between what we do because it’s holy or helpful, and what we do because we’re scared not to. The two feel similar on the outside, but inside they’re worlds apart.

Whenever I travel, I gain a kind of bird’s-eye clarity on my life home in Crown Heights. It’s not that I become more spiritual on the road, if anything, I usually have less of the spiritual abundance I have access to in CH. No mikvahs. Few, if any, minyanim, congregations for prayer services.

But somehow, precisely because I’m outside of my usual spiritual environment, I see myself more honestly. Distance gives perspective. Without my usual tools, I can suddenly recognize where I may have been using them as crutches, or just routine without purpose.

What Happens If I Don’t?

I made a list: What are the things that, if I didn’t do them, would make me feel anxious and tense?

It was an uncomfortable list because everything on it was “good.” Holy things. Helpful things. Identity-reinforcing things.

Then I began experimenting: choosing not to do one of them, intentionally. Just to watch what happened inside.

Not as self-sabotage. Not out of laziness.

But to refine the relationship.

To see whether the “good thing” was actually good, or if my dependence on it was quietly using me.

There’s a Chassidic aphorism from the Alter Rebbe that came to mind recently:

“What is forbidden is forbidden, and what is permitted is unnecessary.”

(HaYom Yom 25 Adar 2)

At first glance it sounds extreme, but there’s a jewel in it: holiness isn’t created by piling on more. Sometimes holiness is revealed through subtraction.

Even less is even more.

Morning Routine or Morning Rigidity?

Avraham Avinu, our father, upon the call to sacrifice his son, Yitzchak.

The Torah says simply:

וישכם אברהם בבקר — Avraham got up early in the morning and went

No ritual warm-up. No elaborate pre-spiritual checklist.

He rose with zerizus, with alacrity, and he went.

The uniqueness wasn’t that he listened to Hashem.

The uniqueness was how he responded, without delay, without needing everything to be perfectly aligned before he moved.

Chassidus explains that this moment contains the blueprint of our own morning: the first act of the day is the “sacrifice” of the animal soul, choosing soul over instinct, essence over habit.

But somewhere along the way, “soul over instinct” can become “routine over presence.”

What starts as a vessel becomes a cage.

Listening to the Body, as Avraham Did

There’s another moment with Avraham where Hashem tells him, “Whatever Sarah tells you, listen to her voice” (Genesis 21:12).

Chassidic teachings explain that “Avraham” represents the soul, and “Sarah,” his wife, the body.

Meaning: the soul must learn to listen to the body.

Not blindly obey it.

Not suppress it.

But listen.

The body with its sensations, its limits, and its intuitions has wisdom. Often, my growth

comes not from pushing through it, but from honoring it.

Using Tools Without Becoming Their Tool

Most things we rely on are not the problem.

The problem is the relationship we have with them.

If I need my routine to feel okay, then the routine isn’t serving me. I’m serving it.

When I can step back and say, “If I don’t do this today, I’m still whole,” then the tool becomes what it was meant to be: a support, not a substitute for self-trust.

A Small Experiment That Surprised Me

All of this reflection gave me the courage to experiment (again) with something small but

meaningful: skipping morning meditation.

One day this week I woke up queasy. I know from experience that meditating with an upset stomach feels like trying to sit still in a storm.

So I didn’t force it.

I went to the mikveh. Learned a little Chassidus. Davened Shacharis.

And surprisingly, I felt lighter.

I scheduled time that evening to meditate instead. And when I finally sat, it wasn’t out of routine. It was out of choice. A good chunk of the tension I’d been carrying actually released.

It was a reminder that the body isn’t the enemy. It’s a guide. The soul isn’t a slave to routine. It’s a partner in Presence.

Enoughness as Avodah

So much of spiritual life is about abundance, doing, adding, stacking mitzvos, building vessels. All good. All holy.

But sometimes, the deeper avodah is in the courage not to do.

To trust yourself and your body.

To remember that Hashem is found in simplicity as much as in structure.

To use tools without becoming used by them.

To cultivate an inner “enough” that doesn’t depend on checking every box.

This, too, is zerizus.

This, too, is serving Hashem with joy.

Sometimes the holiest thing is simply to get up in the morning like Avraham and go.

Then, one can return to those morning routines with a healthier, more uplifting, and loving approach.