PAS B’SALO: OVERFLOW THE CUP BEFORE IT’S EMPTY

Several years ago, I was enrolled in an intensive weeklong course on Cape Cod. Since I observe Shabbat, I had to drive the twelve hours from Buffalo on Sunday to arrive on time Monday morning. That year, the drive fell on Tisha B’Av, the Ninth of Av—a fast day mourning the destruction of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. It’s not a day for leisure or road trips, but this was a permitted necessity.

The challenge? Driving twelve hours while fasting—alone, without food or drink. To prepare, I packed a beautiful post-fast meal: fresh fruit, nourishing food, and cool drinks. But instead of putting it in the trunk, I placed it on the front seat beside me. I didn’t eat it. I didn’t need to. Just knowing it was there, calmed me. I had what I needed.

That experience became a metaphor I call pas b’salo—“bread in your basket.” It’s a Talmudic concept meaning that when someone has bread readily available—even if they’re not eating it—their hunger feels less acute. The availability itself brings calm. Resilience isn’t built in the storm—it’s packed in the passenger seat before the trip begins.

Pas b’salo appears in the Talmud (Yoma 18a), which teaches that a person who has bread within reach is fundamentally more at ease than one without. This isn’t just about food. It’s about mindset, inner security, and proactive abundance.

When we journey through life—especially its more difficult stretches—without emotional, spiritual, or physical “provisions,” we’re more vulnerable. But when we intentionally nourish ourselves in advance, we can draw strength from what’s already present. We may not be eating the “bread,” but just knowing it’s there is enough.

Overflow Before Empty

King David writes in Tehillim (Psalms 23:5), “כּוֹסִי רְוָיָה”—“My cup overflows.” That’s the ideal: we don’t just fill up to survive; we overflow, and in that overflow, we nourish others.

Modern neuroscience affirms this ancient wisdom. The brain’s plasticity means it adapts to what we repeat. If we habitually engage in kindness, connection, calm, and joy, those become our baseline. But if we wait for burnout before addressing our needs, we’re reinforcing stress patterns instead of resilience.

Dr. Rick Hanson describes the brain’s negativity bias—how we’re wired to hold onto bad experiences like Velcro, while letting good ones slide off like Teflon. To shift this, he recommends “installing the good”—intentionally soaking in positive moments so they “stick.” That’s pas b’salo in action. We train the brain to recognize sufficiency, not just scarcity.

In Jewish thought, Maimonides (Hilchos De’os 1) teaches that we should gently and consistently lean into healthier behaviors—step by step—until they become part of us. Not in the extremes, but in a middle, balanced manner. This is neuroplasticity through behavior – This Mussar study it aligns with Hebb’s Law from neuroscience: “neurons that fire together, wire together.”

We prepare ourselves by building good habits early—through small, repeatable actions that fill our internal baskets.

The Pas B’Salo Protocol

(from my Three-Legged Stool model: Body, Soul, and Mind)

• Eat well – Don’t wait until you’re starving. Listen to your body’s cues.
• Move – Even a short walk or gentle stretch begins to regulate your system.
• Breathe – Start before you’re panicked. Inhale calmly through your nose, exhale slightly longer.
• Connect – Don’t isolate. We’re wired for connection (“m’dabeir”—humans speak).
• Daven, pray or meditate – Spiritual hygiene is daily, not just for emergencies.
• Be kind – Acts of generosity fill the giver, not just the receiver.
• Laugh, sing, play – These are sacred vital nutrients.
• Declutter your space and circle – Remove toxicity wherever it hides in things, locations, and people!

Don’t wait until your cup is empty to begin filling it. Prepare daily. Even small rituals can build a steady supply of peace, clarity, and strength.

Don’t Wait for the Yerida

A yerida—a spiritual or emotional descent—often arrives quietly: skipped meals, unspoken feelings, neglected self-care. While the Torah teaches yerida l’tzorech aliyah (a descent for the sake of ascent), we don’t pursue hardship. We prepare for it.

Each small, proactive act of nourishment is a brick in a foundation of resilience. When the fasts of life come—literal or metaphorical—you’ll have something beside you. Not in the trunk. Right there, within reach. Resilience isn’t built in the storm – it’s packed in the passenger seat before the trip begins.

Like the Kohen Gadol ascending the altar via a ramp—slowly, steadily, without sudden leaps—our growth comes gently. One step at a time.

Listen to my SUNO song: Overflow Before You’re Empty
And: Shrink the Step

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With Gratitude,

Rus Devorah