Wishing Your Life Away

Way back, many decades ago, in an issue of a periodical (Coronet I think), I read an article that criticized the practice we have of looking forward to particular events and longing for the time when those chores and events we disliked would be over and out of the way and we could move on to the joys. We were, the article said, wishing our lives away. We jumped forward to the favorable while attempting to speed past the unpleasant. We were disregarding the present and living for the future. It was a nice homily, though I don't agree with it all.

Regarding “the Rav” (Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik), the following was told to me by Rabbi Gedalyah Berger,

I heard the story from my uncle, who said that the Rav said that Jews (maybe davka [specifically] American Jews?) don't want to daven [to pray] – they want to be up-gedavent [they want to have prayed]

They did not question the validity and importance of the prayers, and they would certainly say them, but it was so much better when they were done and people could go on with their lives. They, too, were wishing their lives away.

The idea that there are good events for which we can't wait – we want to fast-forward to them – and others that we wish were out of the way, deleted, is pervasive. I suspect it's always been this way, and always will be. We're eager for the good times and happy to dismiss those that annoy us.

To a degree I concur with the author of the article but not completely.

My disagreement stems from the fact that I know my days are numbered. That's really true of everyone. From the day we're born – actually from the day we're conceived – it's all downhill. We don't see it that way most of the time. We act as if we're immortal and all we need to do is focus on what's going on in our lives and what we anticipate. We rarely consider the possibility of death. All's well and such thoughts are irrelevant.

Thought processes change when a clock is introduced – when the inevitable, but undreamed of, end becomes not only a realistic possibility but a likelihood. That's where I am now. I'm at Kübler-Ross's fifth step – acceptance. I'm going to die. Not necessarily soon, but sooner rather than later. I'm past three-score and ten, so I have no reason to gripe. And I know that the same G-d Who made the good also make the bad, so basically I've been fortunate. All I can do is pray that what follows will be what I want. I know it will be what G-d “wants.”

Having said that, however, it's important to me that I describe how my perception of time has changed. I fear the bad that I face, but I know that it will eventually come. In the meantime I feel much the same as everyone else in respect to looking forward to the good. But it's not that I long for the celebrations to come. More accurately, I put them on my calendar of events that I hope to enjoy. But I'm in no rush to reach them because I know that this reflects a kind of wish to shorten my life – and I'm not eager to do so. They're goals, but not what I want to be end points. My preference would be to go from goal to goal – from one joyous event to the next for whatever time is remaining. Perhaps treatment will be successful and my time will be extended, but I can't depend on that possibility.

In the meanwhile, I'm living every day as it comes. Like most other people I'm living in the present, but different from them I'm not simply going through time until something is out of the way. Or something desirable is achieved. I'm not killing time – in fact time is killing me. The same is true of everyone else, but most people don't realize it.

So for now it's “one day at a time,” and the wishful anticipation of joyous events to come. The concept is no different from that of others, but the perspective is a little different. What others may see as an obligatory journey with high and low points, and with a desire to focus on the high, I consider a gift to be enjoyed as it comes. I'm eager to celebrate the joyous days and to celebrate the accomplishments of those I love, but I'm less eager to reach them. They'll come when they come, and I certainly hope they'll come, but I'm in no rush. The immediate challenge is to make the most of each day that I am blessed with – good or bad.

And to take my time. I don't want to wish my life away.






April 2, 2017

Blue Skies

Blue Skiesⁱ

I hate spring.

Actually it's beautiful. I know that. Crocuses are reaching for the sun and buds are starting to appear on the trees. Although winter is not completely gone, and some cold days remain, warm winds are starting to find their way by our faces, and the last vestiges of snow are disappearing. Gentle rains are starting to fall which aren't oppressive but rather welcome as relief from what we've been suffering. And in between the showers there are clear blue skies and, soon, the yellow-green leavesⁱⁱ that signal the rich green that is to follow.ⁱⁱⁱ

As the days lengthen the birds are returning and now they are singing. Some of them seem a little bulky, and it seems clear that a new generation will be appearing soon. That's the hallmark of the season. It's not just the prerogative of young men, nor their fancy – spring fever affects all of us, man and animal alike,^iv and we're all affected by the climate of rebirth.

But I hate spring.

I love winter. Not so much the weather, which I find to be more than I can bear.^v And certainly not the sentence of house arrest brought on by the short days. Cabin fever is a real ailment, and I suffer from it as much as others. The season is cold and dark, and even the house seems cold. Tempers are on edge because of the confinement. No one wants to go out, but no one wants to have to stay in either.

But I love winter for one important reason. It holds the promise of spring. The days are starting to get longer and there is hope and anticipation about. It will all end soon, but not a moment too soon.

And then it actually ends. Spring comes. And the moment is too soon. The time for which we've all been waiting – the promise we prayed would be kept – has come, and there is a letdown. Soon, with the coming of summer, the trees will be full and all we'll have ahead of us is the deterioration of nature heralding winter. Sure, there will be a bright and clear autumn, but however glorious it may be, it will carry with it the inevitability of the coming season. I love winter, but only because of the expectations it brings. Otherwise I hate the season and I hate anticipating it.

And so when spring comes, as warm and welcome as it may be, we have lost the chance to yearn; we can no longer wait for it, with all the excitement that comes with anticipation. It will be over soon, at least until next year – but who can think that far ahead.

Next episode: "The Need To Know" – Bull from the bears.

i     With apologies to Irving Berlin.

ii    I like the willows best.

iii    All my perceptions assume the Northern Hemisphere, but I also know that my melancholy would be just as severe – though offset by six months – if I lived in the Southern Hemisphere.

iv    Yes. I'm aware that we're animals. But the cliché expresses the idea so well.

v    When I was younger, and better able to tolerate the cold, it wasn't so bad; when shoveling snow wasn't the ordeal it is now, I gloried in the change of seasons and winter was a big part of it. And when playing, or, later, playing with my children and making snow angels, it was almost enjoyable.