Are We Present?
“Too much of our living is done in the past or in the future while we neglect the present. But yesterday is a canceled check and tomorrow is a promissory note. Only today is cash at hand for us to spend.”
~ Sidney Greenberg~
Words to Live By
When I read the above words, I felt the gavel hit the desk, with a resounding thump. I am guilty.
(Then I fell the tiniest bit in love with the author’s brilliant and poetic mastery of language.)
Normally, I think of my concern for the past as a prerequisite, for a historian, and my concern with the future, as a necessity for a Christian; thus I find myself in a paradoxical state, of being condemned for behavior I thought correct.
The author, of the above quote, has correctly given value to the past and future, as it is not that the past and future are irrelevant; canceled checks are important historical documents, which we hold on to, and promissory notes are valued sufficiently that they normally end up in a vault, of some sort, but the past and future are not the whole story. What are we doing in the present? Are we making the most of this moment, of this day? Where will we spend our cash on hand today?
Lately, I have been thinking a lot about what I accomplish daily. Have I truly lived today? What makes the day matter, to me? If this is my last day, what will I regret that was left undone? What deed will give today value?
It is easy to get caught up in the mandatory encumbrances of daily living. While there may be some variation, in what our days demand, the needs are generally rather similar: family, friends, home, work, and us. How often do we go to bed exhausted and feeling like we have spent the whole day catching up, and are still behind?
I am the last person, in the world, who would ever say that paying attention to the people we love, maintaining our homes, or making sure there are a few bucks in the bank, is not important. However, I am wondering what else is required, to make a day have value? What goals must be achieved in order to feel as if today has been a success; or for that matter – that life was a success?
Recently, I woke up in a hotel room, with a view, of the ocean. As I drank my coffee, I booted up my computer, feeling the weight of unfinished work. I went to various news outlets, and read mostly the headlines, glanced through my email, not reading a single letter, and finally scrolled through my facebook feed – I then shut the computer down! I felt a tinge of guilt, as I watched the poor thing closing itself down; but not enough to stop me from grabbing my camera, and heading to the beach.
As I began to walk toward the ocean, I felt that indescribable joy, which should be the defining quality of life, yet so often feels elusive. The sand was hot, almost burning my feet, but I did not seem to mind, the sun penetrated through my clothes, past my skin, and into my soul, which began to feel a bit more alive, with every step; the warm, salty breeze swept me off into a world where whatever cares I bore seemed suddenly less important than the shell scattered sand.
When I arrived at the water’s edge, I stood staring at the horizon, and let the small wave’s crash onto my legs, as I scrunched my toes into the wet sand, and thanked God I had left the computer behind and ventured into His creation.
I started walking toward the pier and saw a woman playing in the sand; she was building a sand castle. I wanted to join her, instead, I approached her and asked her if she was building the castle for herself; yes, she joyfully answered, adding that she was an artist from Illinois. I asked if I could take her picture, promising not to capture her face, and she gladly gave permission. After snapping her photograph, I could not help but wonder if her sand castle, would give her day meaning?
My mind went back to Mr. Greenburg, well Rabbi Greenburg; I cannot now remember where I found my new Sidney Greenberg book, I do know that I opened it in the middle and started to read his perspective on grief, death, and remembrance and found myself turning page after page, surprised by how anxious I was to see what else he had to say.
“Sober reflection can also lead us to a more sympathetic appreciation of the vital role death plays in the economy of life. Life’s significance and zest issue from our awareness of its transiency, its ‘fragile contingency.’ The urge to create, the passion to perfect, the will to heal and cure – all the noblest of human enterprises grow in the soil of human mortality. They would vanish if life on earth were an endless, unrelieved process.” The sand castle will vanish, but is it the act of creation that gives it value – that gives her day value?
As I continued walking, I saw two women, one was middle aged and the other older, they had drug their lawn chairs out into the ocean, and were sitting, chatting, as if they had not a single care, in the world. I remembered Kate setting up lawn chairs for her and my Mother, at the oceans edge; how happy that had made my Mother, and I was pleased to have a memory, which I knew would last my lifetime. I wanted to be them, I thought – maybe I was, or at least had been. I knew their day had meaning.
Cherishing each step and every vista, I walked until the incoming tide made me realize that time was passing, much too quickly, for my pleasure, and I had to turn around. I was not ready to go back to real life; but decided it was better to stroll back at my leisure, absorbing every nuance of life, on the beach, than have to make my way back, rushing on the street. Thus, I turned around, and put my camera away, to enjoy the moment.
One of the things, which I have been questioning lately, when sitting to edit 500 plus pictures, from a visit to a museum or historic place, which I have captured, with the plan to share on Public Square, is how much have I absorbed from the event, if I constantly have a camera at my eye? I am trying to put the camera down, more often. After all, I am not going to post 500 pictures, so why take them? There has to be balance.
“No day is free from its full quota of tests. Indeed the uses to which we put each day, the purposes to which we dedicate it, the deeds with which we fill it – constitute perhaps the supreme test of all. . . . To look upon life as a test means to bring to it at every time the finest of which we are capable, to keep ourselves always in top moral condition, to realize the enormous possibilities for good or for ill inherent in each situation regardless of how unspectacular, or hum-drum, or even ominous it may appear.”
I see a perfect stack of beach toys, and think: take your camera out! But I do not, this will be my moment, as will a father and daughter, who are walking hand in hand, the countless children who are chasing the waves, and an older couple, sitting under the pier, for shade, who seem frail but pleased, and a flock of seagulls, who fly in definite formation, which I am forever trying to photograph, but never do. I feel the weight of the world, at least temporarily, lifted from my shoulders. I so love walking in nature.
Trying to distinguish where my hotel is, I almost walk right past a man paddle surfing with his dog! Oh my! I stand for a few minutes enjoying them catching a wave, riding into to shore, paddling back out, the dog falling into the ocean, the man jumping in to the get the happy dog back on the surf board, and decide this is a picture I want; and I think you will want to see.
Before approaching the hotel, I reach the place where the woman had built her sand castle. The incoming tide has wiped away all remnants of her creation; I am pleased to have snapped a picture of it. I again toy with the meaning of a castle made out of sand. Did her sand castle give her day meaning? I do not know, but I think it may have given my day meaning.
Can that be, can simply enjoying someone else’s fleeting creation give meaning to my day? I am not sure. Time matters and it is ticking. What will be accomplished today, what will be accomplished over a lifetime? I think about the people I have known, who have gone, especially my parents, and there unfinished to do lists? I read the paragraph quoted below, and think perhaps the Rabbi is on to something. Moses lived to 120, a fine life span, in today’s world, but he did not achieve all that he set out to do, yet, he is not remembered for his failure, but rather for his success.
“With maturity, however, the sense of disappointment was mellowed by the realization that in the untimely death of Moses the Bible was conveying an inescapable truth of human experience. The great always die too soon. For it is in the essence of greatness that it sets up for itself goals which are too large to be achieved in any lifetime, however long. Big people are unsatisfied with small objectives. Every Moses inevitably leaves his final Jordan uncrossed.”
Perhaps for today, enjoying the artist from Illinois creation is enough, but for tomorrow to matter, I think I may need to make my own castle. That is all for now.
