Sometimes we learn fascinating things about ourselves during moments of truth. There is a wealth of self-knowledge that surfaces in situations when we react on instinct alone. Of course, we sometimes make poor decisions when there's plenty of time to weigh the facts, but that's the subject of another column.
I had one of those instinctual moments a few years back while I was in the IDF. Our reserve unit was asked to find a terror suspect in a certain Arab village near Jerusalem.
It had been a long and tough day for me. That morning, I had purchased a tub of Ben and Jerry's® cookies and cream ice cream, and to my dismay, there wasn't even one chunk of dough in the whole container. I'm not making excuses for my behavior, but I think anyone would take this fact into consideration before judging my soldiering that day.
Several of us showed up at the alleged door of the alleged home of the alleged terrorist. First the mother was asked to fill out a 10 page disclaimer form, swearing that she had no relatives in the IDF and thereby invalidating her from winning any of our door prizes. We then presented the mother of the house with a picture of the suspect.
There was a hint of recognition in her eyes that she was trying to hide from us. It was a fair assumption that the man in question was her son.
At that moment, her husband came to the door, took one look at us in our IDF uniforms, and began screaming at his wife. Maybe he was upset that we weren't delivering pizza.
She screamed right back at him. While my understanding of Mandarin Arabic is perfect, they must have been speaking a different Semitic dialect, because I had no clue what they were saying. However, the husband's angry body language left no room for interpretation. Even someone with a low social intelligence could understand that the wife was in for trouble.
What the man did at this point caused me to enter into a surreal, almost slow motion state of being. I've read that emergency room physicians experience similar feelings during a crisis. They perceive time as progressing slowly and this allows them to function quickly and efficiently during a highly pressured shift.
The man slugged his wife and her limp body went crashing against the door frame. Two soldiers supported her and prevented her from falling to the floor, and two other soldiers held me back from attacking the man.
At that moment in time and space, my instincts had transcended all national, cultural and religious affiliations. I was lashing out against a brutal attack against a defenseless female.
Where I come from, men are taught not to hit women under any circumstances. This is a challenging rule at times, because at some Texan hangouts, such as rodeos and truck stops, it's not always easy to tell the genders apart. However, once a Texan gentleman is sure he is dealing with a female, he knows that brutality is not an option.
I wanted to teach this man a lesson. I wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.
"Let's take this outside, homeboy," I shouted at him in English. "I'll put down my gun and let's settle this with our fists. Just you and me."
Who was I trying to kid? Was I trying to be Bruce Willis? Rambo? Davido Rodriquez? (He was a bully in my grade school who became the object of my wrath after he stripped the gears on my brother's bicycle.)
I was naive and overly idealistic. What was I trying to prove with my counter attack? Was I going to teach this guy how to be nice to his wife? Was I going to force him to sign up for a men's group and get back in touch with his feelings?
It's a good thing my army buddies held me back. Had I gone ballistic, I could have spent the rest of my reserve duty in the stockade at best, or started an international incident at worse. Perhaps I just would have made a fool of myself.
While I'm liberal on issues such as ecology, women's rights, and social causes, no one would say that I'm left wing on issues such as Jewish nationalism and settlement, or the Greater Land of Israel ideology. My reaction was not fueled by politics.
So where was I coming from exactly? What could I learn about myself and my instinctual response?
I think I was reacting to the pain the woman must have felt when she was assaulted. I was fighting against ubiquitous injustice. I probably would have reacted the same way in any other setting with other players, in or out of uniform.
Our medic determined that the woman didn't sustain a concussion, and he suggested that the husband take her to the emergency room to run some tests. Something tells me he didn't follow through on this piece of advice.
I was still fuming back in the jeep while my cohorts were finishing the assignment. I occasionally tried to make another run to the house for a little heart-to-heart talk with the "man" of the house. Luckily, I was restrained each time.
With the exception of smoking cigarettes as an 8th grader to look cool, I never adopted the smoking habit. At this moment, however, I really wanted to take a long drag on a Marlboro.
We went back to the base, and after hitting the showers and going back to my barracks, I started to relax. As I was reviewing the events of the abuse I just witnessed and my reaction to it, the medic came into the room with a new tub of Ben and Jerry's ®. Maybe I would be luckier this time.
-- -- --
Ben Goldfarb was born and raised in El Paso, Texas, and is a graduate of the University of Texas at Austin. He moved to Israel in 1988. He is the founder and director of a personal and corporate coaching company, Paradigm Shift Communications. He has given seminars and trainings at Israel Aircraft Industry and Philips Medical Systems. His book Double Feature: A Nostalgic Peek into the Future will be published in the summer. He lives with his wife and children in Jerusalem. For more information about his coaching practice, visit the Paradigm Shift Communications website at www.pdshiftcoaching.com, or send an email to ben@pdshiftcoaching.com. © Copyright 2008 by Ben Goldfarb
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Monday, November 5, 2007
Vacuum Cleaners and the Twilight Zone
Allow me to share a traumatic incident that occurred to me when I was 17 years old. I must warn you that the words that follow are not for the squeamish. Think twice before continuing. This article could redeem you, or it might send you reeling into despair, dismay, and premature balding.
I was enjoying a carefree summer in El Paso, Texas, where I grew up. I found it very difficult to enjoy the summer anywhere else, because I wasn't there.
I spent my evenings with my friends until the wee hours of the morning. When we weren't burning the midnight oil discussing philosophy and ways of changing the world, we were involved in heated debates over the flavor, viscosity and alcoholic content of various foreign and domestic beers.
I usually came home around 3 or 4 in the morning and was awakened by my alarm at 10 o'clock. Being a master of discipline and personal growth, I proceeded to sleep for a couple more hours.
After dragging myself out of bed at a few minutes before noon, I went to the kitchen, where I threw a few kosher rolled tacos into the microwave. Equipped with my nourishment, I sat myself down in front of the TV to watch "Twilight Zone" reruns.
One day, as I kicked up my feet on the coffee table waiting for Rod Serling's introduction, an event occurred that shook up my very existence. An interplay of cosmic forces was about to occur that would penetrate to the core of my being. As Serling was beginning his narrative, our housekeeper, busy with her vacuuming, asked me to lift my legs for a few moments. Apparently, she wanted to vacuum under the very same coffee table that was hosting my feet and my lunch.
For some reason, I honored her request. Why didn't I ask her to wait a few moments until the commercial? Why didn't I just say no? Why didn't I ignore her completely? These questions haunted me for years. But alas, we can't change the past — or can we?
I lifted my legs so she could do her work, and thereby missed 32 seconds of the show. The roar of the Hoover beast drowned out Serling's voice and created wavy lines on the TV screen. I was very lucky that the vibrations from her weapon of personal destruction didn't cause one of the tacos to fall to the floor, never to be consumed again.
The horror. The humanity. Our housekeeper, although well intentioned, couldn't have had a poorer sense of timing if she had tried.
This trauma was now a part of me, and as far as I knew, this event would be imprinted in my soul indelibly. Every time I heard a vacuum cleaner, I cringed. When a car backfired, I jumped to the ground instinctively in a vain attempt to save a phantom taco from falling to the ground. When I heard anyone whose voice matched Rod Serling's tonality, my hyper-vigilance kicked in and I looked over my shoulder for a vacuum cleaner-wielding maid.
Five years later, during my senior year of college at UT Austin, I was recovering from an all-night cramming session when I had an epiphany. I realized that, just as this phobia was created instantly, it could be cured instantly as well.
I started to play the scene over in my mind, but stopped right before I put my feet on the coffee table. As the director of my movie, I changed the scene ever so slightly. In my new version of the film, I picked up the portable phone and dialed our second home number. In my new version of the event, the maid answered the phone, and, in my broken Spanish, I was able to sell her a cable TV subscription.
When she hung up the phone and resumed vacuuming, it was time for a commercial. She did her vacuuming while I fetched some more tacos. The trauma had been avoided. I watched the entire show, and no tacos were even slightly in danger of plummeting to the floor.
I was given the gift of changing the past. With my new memory, there was no need to create a phobia or suffer from any type of post traumatic stress syndrome.
I had to test the efficacy of this cure, so I got in my car and drove to the closest mall. I went straight to Home Depot and ran to the vacuum cleaner department. I mustered up all of my courage and allowed the salespeople to demonstrate the various vacuum cleaner models to me. As they went through their pitches, I didn't cringe or jump. I even did some vacuuming myself. I was no longer scared and found myself enjoying the experience.
But the testing process was not over yet. I spoke to a number of people in the mall whose voices sounded like Rod Serling's. To my great surprise, I experienced no negativity and had no flashbacks of "the event." This is because my memory of the scene had changed, at least in my mind.
Would this cure last, or was it just a quick fix? Would I be able to keep the change?
The answer is unequivocally yes. The phobia was completely dissolved. It's been 22 years, and I haven't had one flashback. To this day, I vacuum any chance I get. I've watched several "Twilight Zone" marathons on TV and I enjoyed every minute of them.
I realize that not everyone is as lucky as I am. Perhaps the whole cure was a fluke and can't be replicated. Maybe I was chosen to go through this hell on earth so I could tell my story to others. Perhaps I was singled out to suffer so I could help those who may have gone through a similar experience. Or maybe I just need to get a life.
— — —
Ben Goldfarb was born and raised in El Paso, Texas, and is a graduate of the University of Texas at Austin. He moved to Israel in 1988. He divides his time between his yeshiva studies and his coaching practice. His life calling is to help others understand their personal mission and accomplish it with humor, creativity and spirituality. He lives with his wife and children in Jerusalem. His book "Double Feature" will be published in the winter. For more information about his coaching practice, visit the Paradigm Shift Communications website, or send an email to ben@pdshiftcoaching.com. © Copyright 2007 by Ben Goldfarb.
I was enjoying a carefree summer in El Paso, Texas, where I grew up. I found it very difficult to enjoy the summer anywhere else, because I wasn't there.
I spent my evenings with my friends until the wee hours of the morning. When we weren't burning the midnight oil discussing philosophy and ways of changing the world, we were involved in heated debates over the flavor, viscosity and alcoholic content of various foreign and domestic beers.
I usually came home around 3 or 4 in the morning and was awakened by my alarm at 10 o'clock. Being a master of discipline and personal growth, I proceeded to sleep for a couple more hours.
After dragging myself out of bed at a few minutes before noon, I went to the kitchen, where I threw a few kosher rolled tacos into the microwave. Equipped with my nourishment, I sat myself down in front of the TV to watch "Twilight Zone" reruns.
One day, as I kicked up my feet on the coffee table waiting for Rod Serling's introduction, an event occurred that shook up my very existence. An interplay of cosmic forces was about to occur that would penetrate to the core of my being. As Serling was beginning his narrative, our housekeeper, busy with her vacuuming, asked me to lift my legs for a few moments. Apparently, she wanted to vacuum under the very same coffee table that was hosting my feet and my lunch.
For some reason, I honored her request. Why didn't I ask her to wait a few moments until the commercial? Why didn't I just say no? Why didn't I ignore her completely? These questions haunted me for years. But alas, we can't change the past — or can we?
I lifted my legs so she could do her work, and thereby missed 32 seconds of the show. The roar of the Hoover beast drowned out Serling's voice and created wavy lines on the TV screen. I was very lucky that the vibrations from her weapon of personal destruction didn't cause one of the tacos to fall to the floor, never to be consumed again.
The horror. The humanity. Our housekeeper, although well intentioned, couldn't have had a poorer sense of timing if she had tried.
This trauma was now a part of me, and as far as I knew, this event would be imprinted in my soul indelibly. Every time I heard a vacuum cleaner, I cringed. When a car backfired, I jumped to the ground instinctively in a vain attempt to save a phantom taco from falling to the ground. When I heard anyone whose voice matched Rod Serling's tonality, my hyper-vigilance kicked in and I looked over my shoulder for a vacuum cleaner-wielding maid.
Five years later, during my senior year of college at UT Austin, I was recovering from an all-night cramming session when I had an epiphany. I realized that, just as this phobia was created instantly, it could be cured instantly as well.
I started to play the scene over in my mind, but stopped right before I put my feet on the coffee table. As the director of my movie, I changed the scene ever so slightly. In my new version of the film, I picked up the portable phone and dialed our second home number. In my new version of the event, the maid answered the phone, and, in my broken Spanish, I was able to sell her a cable TV subscription.
When she hung up the phone and resumed vacuuming, it was time for a commercial. She did her vacuuming while I fetched some more tacos. The trauma had been avoided. I watched the entire show, and no tacos were even slightly in danger of plummeting to the floor.
I was given the gift of changing the past. With my new memory, there was no need to create a phobia or suffer from any type of post traumatic stress syndrome.
I had to test the efficacy of this cure, so I got in my car and drove to the closest mall. I went straight to Home Depot and ran to the vacuum cleaner department. I mustered up all of my courage and allowed the salespeople to demonstrate the various vacuum cleaner models to me. As they went through their pitches, I didn't cringe or jump. I even did some vacuuming myself. I was no longer scared and found myself enjoying the experience.
But the testing process was not over yet. I spoke to a number of people in the mall whose voices sounded like Rod Serling's. To my great surprise, I experienced no negativity and had no flashbacks of "the event." This is because my memory of the scene had changed, at least in my mind.
Would this cure last, or was it just a quick fix? Would I be able to keep the change?
The answer is unequivocally yes. The phobia was completely dissolved. It's been 22 years, and I haven't had one flashback. To this day, I vacuum any chance I get. I've watched several "Twilight Zone" marathons on TV and I enjoyed every minute of them.
I realize that not everyone is as lucky as I am. Perhaps the whole cure was a fluke and can't be replicated. Maybe I was chosen to go through this hell on earth so I could tell my story to others. Perhaps I was singled out to suffer so I could help those who may have gone through a similar experience. Or maybe I just need to get a life.
— — —
Ben Goldfarb was born and raised in El Paso, Texas, and is a graduate of the University of Texas at Austin. He moved to Israel in 1988. He divides his time between his yeshiva studies and his coaching practice. His life calling is to help others understand their personal mission and accomplish it with humor, creativity and spirituality. He lives with his wife and children in Jerusalem. His book "Double Feature" will be published in the winter. For more information about his coaching practice, visit the Paradigm Shift Communications website, or send an email to ben@pdshiftcoaching.com. © Copyright 2007 by Ben Goldfarb.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Groundhog Year
The best definition I know of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. A classic example of this phenomenon is when a fly tries to exit a house through a shut window and keeps pounding its frail body against the glass endlessly. Another example of insanity is how some of us approach the new year with a long list of things we want to change but with no concrete plan to alter our thoughts or actions.
If you never saw the movie "Groundhog Day", directed by Harold Ramis in 1993, do yourself a favor and rent or buy the DVD. In this movie, Bill Murray plays a TV anchorman who finds himself living the same day, February 2nd (Groundhog Day), over and over again.
At first, he is despondent and self-destructive, and indulges in less than positive behaviors as a result of his predicament. After a few rounds of living the same day, however, he embarks on a campaign of altruism and self-improvement. I won't give away any more details of the movie in case you decide to watch it. Suffice it to say that the film serves as a paradigm of Tshuva (Repentance), and illustrates the vehicle for change as the protagonist's conscious decision to change his thoughts and behavior and thereby enjoy a different outcome.
The changes we make for the new year need not be drastic. For example, altering one's course when flying a plane by only a few degrees leads to a dramatic change in the final destination. Similarly, minor adjustments in one's thought patterns and actions can lead to amazing positive transformations in one's life.
The following are a few examples of small modifications we can make during the upcoming year that can lead to countless positive results:
Keep a journal and note the number of positive thoughts you have during the day versus negative thoughts.
Gently reframe a negative thought into a positive one by creatively viewing the situation from a more proactive perspective.
Anticipate the outcome of a situation as positive instead of a indulging in negative prophecy.
Go out of your way once a month to do something nice for a family member or a friend.
Remind your family members once a week about some of the things you appreciate about them.
Cultivate a mindset of gratitude by counting your blessings and taking a moment to say thank you before you begin any enjoyable activity.
When we make a small commitment to upgrade our thoughts and actions, then we can anticipate the logical consequences of these modifications. In this way, we won't be destined to living yet another "Groundhog Year". By doing something different, we stand a good chance of not only managing to exit the house by trying a new route, we can transform ourselves into eagles and soar above and beyond our expectations. This plan of action provides us with a fighting chance of moving towards a life filled with infinite growth, balance, contribution, and satisfaction.
**********************
In addition to his personal coaching practice, Ben Goldfarb has led corporate training sessions in Israel, the UK, and in the United States. He is the founder and director of Paradigm Shift Communications. For more information, send an e-mail to info@pdshiftcoaching.com, visit the PSC website at www.pdshiftcoaching.com, or call 972-(0)2-641-6673 or 0544-990-619 to arrange a complimentary phone consultation.
If you never saw the movie "Groundhog Day", directed by Harold Ramis in 1993, do yourself a favor and rent or buy the DVD. In this movie, Bill Murray plays a TV anchorman who finds himself living the same day, February 2nd (Groundhog Day), over and over again.
At first, he is despondent and self-destructive, and indulges in less than positive behaviors as a result of his predicament. After a few rounds of living the same day, however, he embarks on a campaign of altruism and self-improvement. I won't give away any more details of the movie in case you decide to watch it. Suffice it to say that the film serves as a paradigm of Tshuva (Repentance), and illustrates the vehicle for change as the protagonist's conscious decision to change his thoughts and behavior and thereby enjoy a different outcome.
The changes we make for the new year need not be drastic. For example, altering one's course when flying a plane by only a few degrees leads to a dramatic change in the final destination. Similarly, minor adjustments in one's thought patterns and actions can lead to amazing positive transformations in one's life.
The following are a few examples of small modifications we can make during the upcoming year that can lead to countless positive results:
- Thoughts
Keep a journal and note the number of positive thoughts you have during the day versus negative thoughts.
Gently reframe a negative thought into a positive one by creatively viewing the situation from a more proactive perspective.
Anticipate the outcome of a situation as positive instead of a indulging in negative prophecy.
- Actions
Go out of your way once a month to do something nice for a family member or a friend.
Remind your family members once a week about some of the things you appreciate about them.
Cultivate a mindset of gratitude by counting your blessings and taking a moment to say thank you before you begin any enjoyable activity.
When we make a small commitment to upgrade our thoughts and actions, then we can anticipate the logical consequences of these modifications. In this way, we won't be destined to living yet another "Groundhog Year". By doing something different, we stand a good chance of not only managing to exit the house by trying a new route, we can transform ourselves into eagles and soar above and beyond our expectations. This plan of action provides us with a fighting chance of moving towards a life filled with infinite growth, balance, contribution, and satisfaction.
**********************
In addition to his personal coaching practice, Ben Goldfarb has led corporate training sessions in Israel, the UK, and in the United States. He is the founder and director of Paradigm Shift Communications. For more information, send an e-mail to info@pdshiftcoaching.com, visit the PSC website at www.pdshiftcoaching.com, or call 972-(0)2-641-6673 or 0544-990-619 to arrange a complimentary phone consultation.
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