How Do I Want to Feel about That?

A lighthearted way to close the day, this bedtime ritual invites warmth, connection, and a gentle sense of joy. With soft conversation, shared moments, and little touches of imagination, it turns everyday routines into something special. It’s about winding down together—smiling, connecting, and creating a sense of comfort before sleep.

Spiritual tiredness goes deeper than ordinary fatigue. It can feel like burnout of the soul, when constant giving and striving leaves you empty inside. It can show up as a loss of meaning or faith, when prayer or reflection feels dry and distant. Sometimes it’s simple disconnection—running on autopilot, out of touch with what really matters. This guided meditation invites you to pause and listen. The sounds around you become part of a greater voice—the song of the universe, God’s whisper carried on the world outside. At the same time, you are guided inward, toward the small, still voice within you, the source of your deepest truth. Through breath, listening, and gentle presence, this practice helps you release burnout, reconnect with meaning, and rediscover a sense of spiritual renewal. Breathe, listen, and be restored. Your spirit deserves refreshment.

Find a comfortable seat and take a slow breath in, and out. Let your body soften. Bring to mind a moment from today—a task, a word spoken, even a frustration. Ask yourself gently: “How do I want to feel about that?” Notice what arises, without judgment. With each breath, bring another memory, concern, or hope into awareness. Again, ask: “How do I want to feel about that?” Let the question open space, inviting a kinder or freer way of holding what is before you. Return to your breath. Know that at any time, you can pause in the flow of life and ask: “How do I want to feel about that?” Breathe deeply once more, release slowly, and when you’re ready, open your eyes.

Tonight, we turn to the teaching of Deuteronomy 24: when gathering harvest, do not reap to the edges or return for what was dropped—leave gleanings for the poor, the stranger, the widow, and the orphan. This command asks us to shift from wants to needs. Our desire is often to take everything, to cling, to secure. But Scripture reminds us: you do not need it all. Leave space. Trust that enough remains. As you breathe, notice what you grasp for, what you think you must have. With each exhale, let one want fall away. Feel into what is truly necessary—food, shelter, care, connection, breath. Notice how sufficiency feels different from scarcity. Like a field with gleanings left behind, you remain full, yet generous. In this balance, we discover freedom: to need less, to share more, to live in trust.

“Tzedek, tzedek tirdof—justice, justice shall you pursue” (Deut. 16:20) has been understood by our sages as far more than legal fairness. In this meditation, we reflect on the many layers of tzedek: charity that lifts the vulnerable, justice that restores balance, righteousness that aligns heart and action. We explore how both ends and means must be just, how law is tempered by compassion, and how truth and peace must guide our steps. Tzedek lives in wisdom and discernment, and is realized in word and deed, thought and action. As you settle into stillness, let the call to pursue justice echo within you—not as a demand of perfection, but as an invitation to wholeness. This practice invites you to breathe into the depth of tzedek, cultivating presence, integrity, and kindness, so that your pursuit of justice is not only outward in the world, but also inward, in the way you live, speak, and embody your values.

Tonight, as on every night, we gather in this gentle space to set down the weight of the day and return to what is calm, kind, and true within us. However you arrive—tired, restless, or full of thoughts—you are welcome, just as you are. There is no need to fix or change anything. Only to breathe, to listen, and to allow. This meditation will invite you to settle the body, ease the mind, and open the heart to rest. With breath and presence as steady companions, we’ll create a spacious pause: a threshold between day and night, noise and quiet, effort and ease. Grounded in the spirit of the Bedtime Shema, this practice echoes a Jewish tradition of releasing grudges, seeking shelter, and entrusting the soul to the Holy One for safekeeping through the night. You don’t need to know the words or come from any particular background. You only need to bring an openness to rest. If you’ve returned here before, thank you for making this part of your practice. If you are joining for the first time, welcome. This space belongs to you as well. Let this be your landing place. A soft exhale. A gentle homecoming to peace.

Close your eyes and breathe. Parashat Re’eh dreams: “There shall be no needy among you.” The Talmud (Shabbat 54b) teaches: we are responsible for wrongs in our household, our town, our nation, our world. Begin with your heart: feel compassion arising within you. Extend it to your household—family, loved ones—asking, how might I help create a home without lack? Widen to your community—neighbors, coworkers, strangers—how can I help relieve need? Broaden to the nation, holding the Torah’s vision of a society without poverty. Finally, imagine the whole world, billions of lives, precious and beloved. Each circle calls for your care. Each breath strengthens your responsibility. May your compassion ripple outward, helping to bring the Torah’s promise closer to reality.

Tonight, as on every night, we gather in this gentle space to set down the weight of the day and return to what is calm, kind, and true within us. However you arrive—tired, restless, or full of thoughts—you are welcome, just as you are. There is no need to fix or change anything. Only to breathe, to listen, and to allow. This meditation will invite you to settle the body, ease the mind, and open the heart to rest. With breath and presence as steady companions, we’ll create a spacious pause: a threshold between day and night, noise and quiet, effort and ease. Grounded in the spirit of the Bedtime Shema, this practice echoes a Jewish tradition of releasing grudges, seeking shelter, and entrusting the soul to the Holy One for safekeeping through the night. You don’t need to know the words or come from any particular background. You only need to bring an openness to rest. If you’ve returned here before, thank you for making this part of your practice. If you are joining for the first time, welcome. This space belongs to you as well. Let this be your landing place. A soft exhale. A gentle homecoming to peace.

Stubbornness & the God Who Stays Deuteronomy 9:24 — “You have been rebellious against God from the day I knew you.” Breathe in, and feel the solid ground beneath you. Breathe out, and notice where you hold firm inside — jaw, shoulders, belly. Stubbornness can protect what is sacred. It can block growth and close the heart. And sometimes, it’s simply a steady presence: the part of you that stays the course. In the wilderness, Israel argued, resisted, refused — and still, God stayed. The Holy One could not let us go. As you breathe, hold this truth: Your willfulness, your chutzpah, even your anger, can be destructive, life-giving, or simply human. And through it all, you are not rejected. You are still beloved. Breathe in: your fire. Breathe out: the God who remains.

This gentle meditation invites you into deep listening, rooted in the sacred words of the Sh’ma: “Hear, O Israel…” Explore what it means to truly hear: not only with your ears, but with your whole being. As you settle into stillness, you’ll attune to the full spectrum of sound: from subtle, constant hums to sudden, fleeting noises; from human voices to the rustling of leaves; from the ticking of time to the silence between. Let the layers of sound open you to presence, connection, and inner quiet. Listening becomes a prayer where hearing the world is a way of hearing the One.