What Matters Least

I suspect I've said most of this before in one place or another, and in one way or another, but I want to join the pieces (and add a few others) into a unified idea. Perhaps the impetus to do so relates to the fact that I have metastatic cancer and think about things differently from the way I did in the past. My perspective has changed.

Whether it's the political situation, the climate, or the disarray in my attic (or anything else for that matter), I've stopped worrying about the situation “in the long run.” “In the long run” is, for me if no one else, what matters least. Until now I've always had the attitude that careful long-term planning was necessary, but I'm no longer sure of that position. And I've carefully considered political and economic conditions – conditions over which I have no control. They're beyond me, so why bother?

There are several different reasons for new attitude, and I'll mention a few of them. The first is that I don't expect to be remembered for very long. I barely recall the grandparents who were alive in my childhood and I certainly didn't know much about my ancestors who preceded them. And there's no reason to think that I'll be long-remembered by my descendants either. In a 15 billion year-old universe, the time of my existence makes no difference. The “long-run” is of no great consequence when thinking in those terms.

In addition, I don't expect to be utilizing the benefits of “the long run” so I might as well take advantage of what's available in the short. I suspect that I've missed many opportunities over the years and I'd prefer not to do so again. There's a well-worn warning not to put things off until tomorrow, and not knowing how many tomorrows there may be I'm reluctant to let stuff slide. Now is the time to “go for it.” Now's the time even if I think it's a waste at this point – even if I think it's too late. In the recent past I may be have been concerned about starting something that I might not finish, or may have thought that buying something that I may not have time to utilize fully, is stealing from my heirs. But I can't let that type of reasoning dominate my desires or my actions. I don't have time for overthinking.

My goal is to do what I can while I can. And the most important thing I can do – even more important than providing for myself – is to help others. Not to get too corny about it, I'd like to be remembered, at least for the short term, and I want the memories to be favorable. Which means, of course, that what I do has to be seen in a favorable light by those who know me but will outlive me – family and friends.

More important, though, is that acts of kindness, hessed according to the Hebrew concept, make me feel good. It's good to know that others are benefiting from what I do, but, additionally, in the time I have left I want to feel good. And this does it – whether by direct actions or by friendly and comfortable interaction.

That's not to say that some long-term planning doesn't play a part in the process – whether through longer range efforts (we were part of a project to collect and distribute linens and clothing to poor immigrants to Israel) and through bequests and by ensuring the fulfillment of commitments. Those kinds of efforts can be very rewarding, and I'll continue to do what I can, but my focus has changed to the more immediate – to what's possible in real time, an emphasis on the here and now.

So my stress is not on what matters least, but what matters most. In part that means the enjoyment of my time, which is best accomplished by doing what I've always done – to pretend that nothing has changed. And that helps me in my wish to provide an example for those around me – to seem brave and accepting, victorious over what may be viewed as scary. Denial does it again. When virtue is subtracted from the picture and the practical reality is that I can't change anything, I don't want anything to change. My heirs will understand. I'll have enjoyed myself and, I hope, given strength to others.

[It just occurred to me that writing this essay more than a year before it will be published represents long-term planning.  So be it.  I'm enjoying myself now.]

January 27, 2017

Present Perfect – Now Is The Time

Tell me a little about your great-grandmothers on your mother's side.

That's alright. I can't either.

We all live in the present. My new great-granddaughter Amalya will live in the present. My ancestor, Shlah Hakodesh,ⁱ lived in his present. We pretend that it's not true of us – that we are working to prepare a better world for our children and grandchildren – but we're fooling ourselves.ⁱⁱ Did our ancestors prepare for us?ⁱⁱⁱ The real truth is that they were concerned with their own problems, and the reality is that we're thinking about ourselves, not our descendants.

It's true of all of us – we live “now.” But what that means is a little more confusing.

If I never knew my great-grandmothers, you can be certain that I can't tell you much about the time before I was born, apart from what's in history books and in cosmology texts. The eternity that preceded me is all but a blank slate, and the eternity that will follow me is even more so. We live between eternities.^iv With the help of “futurists” we can make some intelligent guesses about what is likely in the very near future, but that period, one that is disappearingly short, will have no ultimate significance and will fade into a similarly unknown past very quickly. The truth is that we cannot change the past^v nor know the future. So why bother?

In many ways – in almost all ways – we're like the “lower” animals. They, too, live in the present. They go about their lives as their instincts direct, with no consideration^vi of the past or the future. “Death” doesn't exist for them. Nor do previous generations.^vii At least not as far as we know. Those ideas – especially the concept of death – are burdens of which we alone are aware, and which we have to bear. In that respect, our ability to think and understand are psychologically harmful to us.

Why do we have this capability? What is its origin? The scientists who have described it and who study it are not certain how it came about, but the reality is that we have it. We are conscious of more than just the elements of survival, we're aware of the irrelevant features of our world – the optional ones that pique our interest or affect our emotions; we're capable of understanding, analyzing, and planning. And we know more. So those abilities extend far beyond what was available to our predecessors. Perhaps that's a good thing, but often it isn't. It should be, however we're too often controlled by our own desire to do what we've always done: to live now.

We have the opportunity and the ability, limited as it may be, to plan ahead. Unfortunately, instead of looking for the best answers, we often look for the fastest. We want immediate gratification and quick answers. We don't want to think. It's better to get all the information prepared for us. Whether it takes the form of fast food, Google, or Cliff's Notes, we can't wait. That's what makes us so susceptible to ready-made information – whether it's from the media, the “smart” phone, or grandma. And that's why we're always looking down, at the devices in our hands.^viii We're forever texting or using our latest “apps.” Part of the reason is that we can't tolerate solitude or silence. We live only in the present, but we protect ourselves from it. Any distraction will do.

Some believe they are doing otherwise. They're working to make the world better. Better, of course, means the way they want it to be. Too often they're satisfying their own egos without solving any of the real problems we face. They're spending much of their time arguing with other people who would make the world better by doing the opposite of what they propose. We allow current dogma to dictate the stands we take, even though, and especially because, we don't always understand the underlying issues. We believe the “party-line” ideas to be the best approach available now. If we, or our children have to change those ideas later because they don't work or if they're harmful, so be it. We want to believe that it's about the future, but the present, now, is the focus of our thinking. And we, not them, want to decide what that will be like.

You don't remember your great grandmothers? They didn't know you either. Whatever dreams they may have had about their descendants, they had neither the knowledge nor the conceit to think they could do so. And chances are they would have guessed wrong about the way the world would look, and who we are and what we need. As Yogi Berra said, “It's tough to make predictions, especially about the future.”

So it makes sense to live now. It's hard enough to get things right for ourselves. Amalya will do very well without our help. And her great grandchildren without hers.

Next episode:  “42” – The Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, The Universe, and Everything.  (see The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams)

I        Author of “Shnei Luchot Habrit” hence Shlah. (Hakodesh means the holy one.) Rabbi Isaiah Horowitz was born in 1565 and died about 1630.

ii        If we really cared about them and their future we'd think twice before increasing the national debt that some generation in the future will have to deal with.

iii      For example, and it's only an example, what steps did our predecessors in the sixth century (BCE or CE – your choice) take to make our lives better? Did they even think about it?

iv       At least that's what the scientists say. But do they know any better than the rest of us?

v        As Big Brother would tell you, that's not really true. All you have to do is erase a few lines from the history books and you'll change the past. At least what people believe it to be.

vi        Of which we're aware.

vii       It's somewhat presumptuous of me to believe that animals can't think and plan, and that they have no knowledge comparable to ours, but that is the commonly held view. While evolution relies on efforts of the individual to ensure the longevity of the species, that is by instinct, not thought. We recognize our inability to converse with them, but that may be our weakness, not theirs.

viii     I was on the subway recently and all I saw in front of me were people looking down at their phones or their tablets. Actually that's an overstatement. Some were sitting with their eyes closed and their earbuds open. When I was young there was a lineup of open newspapers. It was the same phenomenon of distraction from reality, but at least it required more active participation.