A few years ago, I took up rappelling, the art of descending sheer cliffs by rope and harness, so that we could explore the red-rock canyons of Southern Utah. After I had begun to learn the basics, Steve, our guide, said to me, “You’re one of those people who wants to speed up when your adrenaline starts to flow.”

In my work as a professional counselor (my side job) I sometimes help people suffering with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD). This diagnosis indicates excessive anxiety or worry more days than not for at least six months, which the person finds it difficult to control, accompanied by symptoms like restlessness, fatigue, difficulty concentrating, irritability, muscle tension, and sleep disturbance. In short, if equanimity is menuchat hanefesh, rest or calmness of soul, GAD is the opposite, restlessness of soul.

When I was a young rabbi,  my time was consumed by people who were constantly in a state of anger, frustration, and offense.  I was not usually the cause of it, but they contacted me to express their emotions over whatever it was that upset them.

Equanimity—what’s so great about it? Aren’t we supposed to be passionate, fired-up, and zealous for what’s right? Isn’t the problem among Yeshua-followers, at least in the western world, that we’re too complacent? And if that’s so, what’s the difference between equanimity and complacency?

Control can be a very powerful human motivation. On the one hand, maintaining control of a given situation can be healthy and vitally important.

Equanimity is a middah, the ability to maintain balance in the face of the disorienting events of life. Serenity, a component of equanimity, is a state of being marked by utter calm. You just can’t maintain that balance without calm, without serenity—and the more serenity, the better.

With the pressures of the modern world, Equanimity, or even-temperedness is a rare commodity among people. In Jewish life, it is a virtue, because it is an issue of character.

My maternal grandfather is the calmest man I have ever known. This was probably why he was selected among all other family members to give me my first driving lesson.

At the tail end of parashat Balak we read of one of the most violent incidents of the Jewish people’s journey in the desert. In spite of all that had transpired up until that point, the people were still drawn to idolatry of a most heinous kind: the idolatry that objectifies the other (divine and human).

Just this morning as I was finishing a Yoga session I casually overheard an interesting and perhaps telling conversation. As I was coming out of the locker room I passed a common area where one of the instructors was “holding court” with a few students.

Munuchat ha-nefesh (equanimity) is a middah that strengthens one’s ability to live out of a general sense of peace and well-being, regardless of external circumstances. Rabbi Nachman’s observation and encouragement point to this middah. We decide the kind of world we are living in based on the mindset we have. At the same time, challenges do come our way. This is where equanimity becomes crucial.

Forget about it! Just get over it! How does one achieve equanimity? Certainly not by ignoring those issues in our lives that create anxiety, fear and imbalance. Such a philosophy is akin to pretending that the check engine light on our dashboard is not lit. Anxiety can be a valuable warning signal indicative of issues that need to be considered and perhaps confronted. If nothing else, awareness is often half the battle.

In Cheshbon HaNefesh, calmness is not spoken of in terms of an internal state. In fact, it is equanimity that serves as the middah to deal with internal equilibrium. Calmness is spoken in terms of communication.

Without balance any virtue can become a vice. Humility can become annoying self-effacement or avoidance of real opportunities because they might lead to recognition. Righteousness can become self-righteousness; order can become obsessiveness. And equanimity is no exception.

There is a common question regarding prayer: If God is perfect, and I am imperfect, why would I need to pray for anything?

For Rav Shaul, “order” was a communal necessity. The gifted congregation in Corinth was instructed to conduct their meetings orderly (1 Cor 14:40).

The Shabbat is a wonderful thing for a family in this modern age of busyness and distractions. The Shabbat comes whether we are prepared or not and can often be a great challenge to glide into smoothly.

The secret of handling an overload of stress is dismantling—don't try to deal with all your pressures simultaneously. Ride one wave at a time, and you'll make it safely to shore, too.

Many things come into our lives that are simply out of our control. When a drunk driver runs the red light perpendicular to your car, when a hurricane comes and rips through your neighborhood, or when a rare cancer rears its ugly head, we all sense the uncertainty and fragility of our lives.

This story is very interesting because it illustrates the concept of gam zu l'tovah: we do not have the power, as mortals, to even comprehend the nature of events and how they will shape our fate.

Someone who is angry has entirely lost the ability to be level-headed, understanding, calm and balanced.

In the fields the Baal Shem Tov recited Psalms with great feeling, concentrating on the various mystical intentions associated with each verse.

Many times our reactions to situations obscure the real root of the problem. It is much easier to condition one's self once the root is addressed.

Once, the Baal Shem Tov went to spend Shabbat in Polnoye, the hometown of his student, the "Toldot", Rabbi Yaacov Yosef of Polnoye. The Baal Shem Tov was traveling in quite a fancy carriage and a resident of the town, a well known instigator, used the opportunity to disparage the Baal Shem Tov for what he deemed unwarranted opulence.

The scene is years ago in Israel shortly after the second destruction. The great sage and Holy saint Rebbe Elezar (the son of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai; grand master Kabbalist and author of the Zohar) was walking with his holy friends in an open field discussing deep mystical secrets found in some sentence of the Torah.

Many times, we believe that our only solution is to handle everything ourselves, or maybe internalize everything and then self-implode, or worse, react irrationally and lash out on those around us.

The next time you feel you are at the brink of anger and ready to lash out at those around you for what appears to be the world-not-going-according-to-your-way, recall the All-Merciful One to Whom you pray daily.

God's final test for Avraham was the most unsettling of all the 10 tests.  God's request that Avraham sacrifice his son and give up his future went against the most fundamental traits in his personality.  What was Avraham known for?  Radical hospitality.  Our tradition teaches us that he and Sarah were the embassadors of kindness among all the people they sojourned with.  Of our ancestors, he and Sarah were the embodiment of chesed (kindness).  The tragedy of Avraham and Sarah's life was that until an old age, they had no children through which they could plant seeds of kindness into the world.  When God opened Sarah's womb and brought the miraculous birth of Isaac, Avraham's lifetime of service and faithfullness to the one true God met its reward.

So often we get caught up in the torrents of life, being tossed this way and that by everyday events.  This has a bad effect on the tranquility of our soul.  We become unsettled and unfocused.  Our perspective and clarity are drawn to only the drama of the present moment and we lose vision of the big picture of life.  Our goal is to rise above these events and have a sense of wide perspective at all times.  By imagining the “big picture” of each life event, we gain a peacefulness of the mind and soul.