As Aseres Yemei Teshuva approaches, we naturally think about teshuva. For me, teshuva has always meant guilt: looking back at my mistakes, feeling guilty, and promising to do better.
But Rebbe Nachman of Breslov teaches something very different that transformed my life. In Likutei Moharan (Torah 6), he teaches that teshuva isn’t just about fixing wrongs; it’s the entire purpose of our life.
He explains that life moves in a rhythm called rotzoh v’shov (רצוא ושוב), literally “running and returning.” Which means we’re always in a cycle of moving forward, then falling back, then forward again, and then back. Growth never happens in a straight line.
Rebbe Nachman says we have to become boki b’rotzoh, boki b’shov (בקי ברצוא, בקי בשוב), an expert in moving forward, and an expert in falling back. It’s not enough to know how to rise; we also need to know how to handle the inevitable falls; we need to know how to turn our falls into teshuva, because those are also part of the process.
At first this can sound off-putting. Why should we have to fall? Why can’t life just be one steady upwards climb? I saw Rabbi David Aaron give a beautiful answer with a metaphor of a seed. A seed planted in the ground seems to rot and die. It breaks apart and disappears. But that apparent “death” is the very beginning of new life. A seed must “die” to become a sprout. A sprout must “die” to become a sapling. And a sapling must “die” to become a tree. Every breakdown is the start of a breakthrough.
Our shortcomings, too, are not proof that we’re broken; it’s actually the exact opposite, they are proof of our growth! They are seeds of growth. Hashem plants us in the ground, sometimes in dark and difficult places, to bring out something higher.
Reb Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, the Rebbe of Piaseczno, encourages us in Tzav V’Zrizus to record our inner struggles, our ups and the downs, in a personal journal. He explains that these struggles shape us. Without writing them down, it can feel like they vanish. But really, those moments are holy and eternal; they are how Hashem refines us, and these teachings should be recorded for others to learn from!
And this is the whole point of the Aseres Yemei Teshuva. Rosh Hashanah is our great ascent: we crown Hashem as King, lifting ourselves up with vision and purpose. But then we come face-to-face with our falls, the missed opportunities, the times we passed over the chance to connect. The word “aveirah” can also mean “to pass over;” it means we missed a moment to live in alignment with Hashem. Teshuva is about realigning, coming back, and choosing life again.
The Baal Shem Tov reveals something astonishing about this. He notes that the word chet (חטא) – sin – has an aleph at the end, and could be read exactly the same way without the aleph. Why? Because the aleph represents Alupho Shel Olam (Master of the Universe). Hashem is present even in our aveiros. Without Him, we couldn’t even lift a finger. That means even when we fall, Hashem is there with us, and when we return, we can transform the fall itself into a mitzvah.
My Mashgiach, Rabbi Peretz Segal, taught the difference between guilt and regret. He explained how guilt is a negative emotion that traps a person: it isolates you, fills you with sadness, and makes you feel stuck. Regret, on the other hand, is deeply spiritual. It doesn’t break a person; it builds him.
True regret comes from recognizing your worth as a neshamah, and realizing you are on a constant upward journey, even when it seems like you are going down, and also seeing your mistakes not as proof that you’re bad, but as fuel to become better. Instead of teshuva being a form of self-punishment, it becomes the doorway to growth and closeness to Hashem.
Encourage yourself to transform guilt into regret through awareness and reframing. Instead of saying, “I’m guilty, I’m horrible,” we can say, “I regret missing that opportunity, and I want to use it as a step to grow.” That shift alone turns teshuva into something life-giving rather than soul-crushing.
This changes how we see teshuva to become a process of hope and constant growth. It’s about seeing every fall as part of Hashem’s plan to bring us closer. Like a seed, planted deep, breaking apart, so that something far greater can emerge.
So as we enter these ten days, let’s not only try to be experts in climbing. Let’s also learn to be experts in the falling. Because the falls are not the end, they are in fact the hidden process of our next ascent.
This article was found in Nekuda Tova Issue 53 Rosh Hashana.
