[Student Profile]
[Prompt & Essay]
With my eyes blindfolded, all I could sense was the cool wind gusting through my ducky pajamas. My hands rested on the shoulders of another Diller member in front of me as we toppled over stairs leading up to a dark room. Our curious giggles were hushed and slowly dissipated as we were individually led to a spot on the floor. “1. —2. —3.” As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I looked down, and in front of me lay two unbroken glow sticks.
Night circle. An objectively strange phrase that is unfamiliar to many. But in Hebrew, it has a nicer ring: Magal Lilah. It is a tradition in Diller, a collection of international leadership cohorts of Jewish teens. Every night, during our Shabbatonim (retreats), a different activity is prepared for Magal Lilah. This night, we were prompted to share something that makes us feel broken. After we shared, we cracked open our glow sticks. I knew instantly what held me back from sharing, which ironically was what I was doing right at that instant. I worry.
I worry a lot.
But, I also tend to be the first to speak. I do this in school, when there are presentations and no one wants to go, so I volunteer to go first. Going first always diluted my fear of my classmates' judgement. With no one to compare myself to, my confidence rose, and my worry fell. This Magal Lilah was no different, so I shared my dagote (worries) with the group, and then— I cracked my glow stick.
What seemed like an obvious metaphor served as a profound experience for me. Leading up to this first Shabbaton, I had yet to feel a sense of belonging in this group, which led me to dread the first overnight trip. I felt very different from my peers because – at least on the surface – they all appeared to beconfident; they were glowing, and I felt dim. However, that night, many of my peers shared the same broken piece that I did.
After this Magal Lilah, I discovered that almost all my peers felt self-conscious, just like I did. It was eye- opening to discover that those who presented a confident exterior were truly insecure on the inside; prior to that night, I had constantly amplified my own insecurities with the assumption that I was the only one. I knew that anxiety was a common struggle for teenagers to have, but this always just felt like a statistic. It was not until hearing personal stories in Magal Lilah's vulnerable environment that I truly absorbed the meaning of that number. The tangibility of the moment created a sense of reality that superficial knowledge simply couldn't provide. My anxiety was still there, and I was no less aware of it now than when my ducky pajamas were still warm. What changed was my awareness of others’ darkness, and the realization that I could see myself as I saw others if I simply accepted my cracks.
Everything sounds better in Hebrew. It is a language I have grown up reading, but cannot fluently understand. After Magal Lilah, I found out that my understanding of people is the same. On the surface, my interpretations of people are only what is presented, only what I can hear and see. But just like with Hebrew, I have yet to fully comprehend the true meaning – and imperfections – beneath the surface. I know the letters of the Hebrew language, and I know that everyone has their own darkness. But I cannot go through life with the assumption that everything is better in Hebrew, just as I can't assume that everyone else is whole inside. Although people may appear shalem (whole), everyone is a little shavur (broken) on the inside.
And that is okay, because it is only with broken glowsticks that a room can be lit up.