Balancing Zerizut (enthusiasm)

“People with enthusiasm have passion, zest and excitement, and this can be contagious.” Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

When challenged to create a practice for zerizut (enthusiasm) at our Mussar study group, I decided that I would try to “catch” it from others. Thanks to my enthusiastic grandchildren and family trips to Costa Rica, Mexico and Canada, I had many opportunities to test this practice over the last several months.

My granddaughter, Selam, is the most adventurous member of the family.  She is the only person on earth who can get me up on a horse. In Costa Rica, she convinced us to horseback ride on the Jaco beach. Selam asked the guide if she could canter. I caught her zerizut, balancing it with restraint as I walked my horse at a slow pace. We repeated the experience on our grandmother-granddaughter trip to Cozumel, where I leisurely walked my horse through the jungle while Selam galloped.

Another experience, however, proved that while zerizut can be contagious, I need to balance it with caution. On our first boat adventure into the Caribbean, a guide accompanied us from our hotel down the coast on a small  Hobie cat catamaran. He let Selam steer most of the way. It was a pleasant and easy trip.

The next day, we decided we could go out on our own, not thinking about how little sailing experience we had. I am usually the worried, cautious grandmother who would wonder whether we were ready, but I let enthusiasm override my doubts and threw caution to the wind. After all, the boat seemed very stable, and the first day had gone so smoothly. We are experienced kayakers if not sailors. So without a second thought, I signed a stack of waivers, and we were off.

We made it down the coastline without incident and were having a wonderful adventure, taking pictures and enjoying the gentle waves. After about 30 minutes, I suggested we turn around and head back to the hotel. About halfway there,  a strong gust of wind hit us, and suddenly Selam and I were both in the water, with our catamaran capsized, the sail just over our heads.

My first reaction was disbelief.  “This can’t be happening. Now what?” We were wearing life vests and are pretty strong swimmers, so I didn’t immediately panic. Rather than think about sharks and currents, I went into problem-solving mode.

“What do we do now?” I asked, in my calmest voice.

“We turn it back up,” Selam said, trying to right the boat. But we couldn’t get the job done.

“Do we swim to shore and tow it along?” I asked.

“We’re not doing that,” Selam said emphatically as she continued attempting to get the vessel right side up.

I thought about swimming to shore and abandoning the catamaran, wondering how much that would cost me. Then we saw a small motor boat approaching. As it got closer, we noticed it was full of tourists and learned it was a snorkel tour carrying passengers back to a cruise ship.

“We can help you get it back up, but that’s it,” the captain said in his limited English. “Then we have to leave.” I wasn’t enthusiastic about getting back on our catamaran though I appreciated that at least they were willing to help.

They righted the boat, but it immediately turned back on its side.That’s when my panic overrode my zerizut. Were they really going to abandon us? What were we going to do? If they couldn’t right the boat, how could we possible do it?

“Ayuda (help),” I pleaded in Spanish as I grasped the back of their boat with my slippery, wet fingers, my heart beginning to race.

“You can’t stay there,” the captain yelled. So I swam over to the side of the boat, and grasped with all my might, continuing to plead “ayuda.” Several passengers helped lift me into the boat. It took several tries in my exhausted, flustered state, and  I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. Finally, I was safely aboard.  Selam was still in the water, on the other side of the catamaran with the crew member who was trying to once again get the boat upright. I couldn’t see her.

In a terrified voice, I yelled, “Mi nieta! (My granddaughter.)”

She swam over to the side of the boat, and they hoisted her in next to me.

After a few more tries, the crew member righted the catamaran and noticed a bolt had come off the steering mechanism. There was no way it could be navigated successfully back to shore.  So they tied the catamaran to their motorboat and towed us to the hotel dock.

“Mil gracias,” I shouted as Selam and I jumped out and waded the short distance to the dock. A hotel worker pulled the damaged catamaran to shore as numerous guests anxiously waited on the dock to learn what had happened. In  a shaky voice, I recounted the story and then headed to the beach for an adult  beverage.

I was somewhat dazed and very relieved. Selam too was thankful that the adventure had come to a positive conclusion and recovered quickly, going off to play pool volleyball with her friends. She swore off catamarans for this trip, but left open the idea for the future…with more instruction.

While my enthusiasm for steering catamarans had waned, my practice of gratitude for the kindness of strangers bloomed. I challenged myself not to  think about what could have happened and instead focus on appreciating the rescue. I tried not to beat myself up about going out to sea with our lack of experience and instead think about how I could practice Mussar from the adventure.

As Rabbi Shana Chandler,  Congregation Ner Tamid, in her sermon, "Playing with Fire and Finding the Right Balance of Zerizut,” said,

“Look before you leap.

She who hesitates is lost.

Slow and steady wins the race.

Dam the torpedoes, full speed ahead….

How do we decide which way to go? How do we dive into life’s challenges and opportunities without getting burned?”

After giving examples from the Torah, she ends her sermon with,  “Experience alone will tell us where and whether we have crossed the line.”

That day in Cozumel, I crossed the line, diving in (not intentionally!),  yet learning a valuable Mussar lesson. Just as a catamaran needs to be balanced to successful navigate the waters, so do soul traits to navigate life's journey. Too little zerizut can lead to inaction, too much can result in poor decision-making. In the future when I catch zerizut, I'll include a dose of caution.