A Date with Destiny

I’ve been on a self-help journey for a while now. The books, the podcasts, the internet posts—I can’t get enough. A few months ago, I heard a Kabbalah teacher named David Ghiyam interviewed on a self-help podcast and I was captivated by the content.

Soon after, I watched Ghiyam’s online Kabbalah One seminar. Everything I was learning seemed to be truths I already knew intuitively, but hadn’t yet put into words. I began to understand, on a deeper level, that everything that exists comes from one source.

We were created from that source. It’s not that God is in each of us; rather, each of us is in God. The Creator energy made us, the destroyer energy, and everything else in this world. We are all energy, and everything we generate is either sourced from pure Creator energy or from destroyer energy (which, yes, was also created by the Creator)—also known as Satan.

You know those cartoon depictions of someone trying to make a decision with a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other? Turns out, that’s a fairly accurate representation of how we operate. Once I started becoming more aware of the energy I was using to respond to my environment, I learned I need to pause when I felt reactive.

Pause. What a pleasure. That’s the first lesson in Kabbalah One. If you feel reactive—if someone hurts you and you want to hurt them back—wait. Reactive energy is sourced from destroyer energy. Pause and give yourself space to process and respond sourcing the energy of the creator.

Then we say, What a pleasure, even when it feels like anything but. We say it to recognize that the challenge is the very elixir we need to heal our soul. We acknowledge the opportunity for growth.

When I go to CrossFit, I suffer and sweat to strengthen my body. Kabbalah has taught me how to use life’s challenges to exercise my soul.

Even though I want to be a full-on believer, I still have a habit of defaulting to skepticism. I think what I believe most in is belief. Belief itself creates our perception, which shapes our experience of the universe. That’s why I’ve decided to choose my beliefs carefully. Kabbalah has given me what seems like the perfect framework to curate my beliefs.

A couple of months ago, I learned that David Ghiyam would be hosting a seminar in Tel Aviv. I was extremely interested in going, but I couldn’t afford the ticket. When I emailed his team, they offered me a discount.

It was still out of reach. I spent a couple of weeks deciding what to do. Despite my skepticism, I wholeheartedly believe in the power of intentional gatherings. I was sure this would be a valuable experience.

Something else nudged me, too. I had recently learned that Ghiyam is divorced. As a divorced woman, I take note when intriguing men are single.  Admittedly, it did feel kind of like finding out Brad Pitt is single—not likely relevant to me. Still, the idea sparked curiosity.

If I go to the seminar, maybe I could ask him out. That thought quietly formed in the back of my mind. To my surprise, it gave me the final push. What a treat it would be to spend an entire first date talking Kabbalah with one of the most influential teachers of this time.

I decided to go all in and stay in Tel Aviv for the weekend. I’d never been to a seminar or conference, or anything like that. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that even though I didn’t know anyone, it was easy to socialize. Everyone there loved talking Kabbalah as much as I do.

By then, I’d pushed the delusional idea of asking out Ghiyam to the back of my head. As great as he seems, he’s not the type of man I’m typically drawn to—and I’m probably too bohemian for him to be interested in me.

The thought certainly wasn’t top of mind when I arrived. But once the seminar started, I found myself thinking: He is attractive. Not just physically—I was drawn to his energy.

Charismatic people have that power. I wonder how many women ask him out at these things. I certainly can’t be the only lady here who would love a date with him. The crowd was probably 80% female.

Okay, I thought. What have I got to lose? I decided I’d stay after the seminar to try to catch a moment with him.

When it ended, he was swarmed. I hung back, hoping the crowd would thin. I grabbed some fruit from the buffet, checked my emails, and made a few calls.

An hour passed, and still about 50 people surrounded him. There was no way. Even if I managed to squeeze through, it wasn’t the right setting.

That night, I walked along the beach, thoughts swirling from everything I’d learned. My biggest takeaway: I am afraid of my own power.

One of the seminar exercises had us respond to prompts with the first thought that came to mind:

Receiving wealth is:
Power is:
Men are:

I had written: Power is scary.

Interesting.

Based on the day’s lessons, I decided to invert that adjective. I rewrote it as a mantra: Power is relaxing.

Another teaching: speaking aloud to the Creator is a potent form of prayer. So as I walked the Tel Aviv promenade that night, I tried it.

“Hey God, I’m going to talk to you like I’m leaving a voice note for Miriam or Shana…” (my two closest friends). “I really appreciate today and tonight. I’m blown away by the beauty of your sea. I’m in awe of your creations.”

“Maybe part of why I fear power is that I don’t want to step on your toes. I know my place. You are the ultimate power. But my lessons tell me you want me to embody your power.”

“How much of your power can I truly access? I hear self-help gurus say, ‘You create your own universe.’ I can kind of see how that’s true—but to what extent?”

“I want to test it. Humbly. If I can manifest things, if that’s what you want me to do, show me. Show me that I can manifest a face-to-face with David Ghiyam. If I cross paths with him this weekend, I’ll take it as proof that you want me to embrace and utilize your power.”

The night ended uneventfully. I wasn’t surprised.

The next day, I spent hours lounging in a tiny patch of shade overlooking the sea, chatting with a friend. I was in my running clothes, planning to jog once it cooled down. At 5 p.m., it was still hot. I had been planning to wait till the sun started setting. But for some reason, I felt the urge to start my run early.

I ran from Jaffa to the Tel Aviv port and back, stopping at nearly every fountain to refill my water bottle and dump it over my head. On the way back, just before Frishman Beach, I passed a good-looking man dressed in white.

Wait. What? That was David Ghiyam!

Had I actually manifested this? I couldn’t just keep running and do nothing.

I doubled back, electric with energy and smiling widely. He saw me and smiled back—his teeth perfectly white and straight.

“Hi! I can’t believe I’m bumping into you! I was at your seminar yesterday—it was amazing!”

“Oh, great!” he said. “Did you have a question? You can walk with us if you want.” He was with family.

I walked alongside him, even though it was the opposite direction from where I was going.

“I spoke aloud to the Creator last night, like you taught us. I asked for a face-to-face with you. And now—here you are.”

He smiled. “Amazing! I absolutely believe you manifested this. What did you want to ask me?”

“Well… It’s not a Kabbalah question,” I said awkwardly. I mustered all of my courage. “I was wondering if you’d go on a date with me.”

He and his family members smiled in surprise. “I’m dating someone. But I think it’s so great that you asked. Men respond really well to women who are confident enough to ask them out.”

“Shucks,” I said, making a dorky hand gesture to show disappointment.

(When I told this part to my 18- and 20-year-old kids, they physically cringed. “Nooo,” my son said. “Please tell me you did not actually say ‘shucks,’” my daughter gasped.)

“I’m a bit embarrassed,” I admitted to Ghiyam.

“Don’t be,” he said. “You were meant to do that. It’s all from the Creator.”

“Well, since I’ve got your attention, I should probably ask one of the many Kabbalah questions I didn’t get to ask at the seminar.”

The family members I’d just humiliated myself in front of began to idle.

“I’m heading back to the hotel with my family, but feel free to send me a message on Instagram.”

“Definitely! Enjoy the rest of your Shabbat!” I called out as I jogged away. Then I slowed down and said aloud—to myself, to the Creator—Wait. Did that seriously just happen?

I felt more connected—and more powerful—than ever.

I felt elated. Not because I scored a date with my celebrity Kabbalah teacher—I didn’t. But because I received something more valuable: a glimpse of what’s possible when I align myself with my own power. A flash of proof. Of certainty.

And I think certainty might be the most powerful force in creation.