I have always been in awe of those of us who make "five-year life-plans" and stick to them like shoes to tar. We all know the type.
Year One: Get Married and save some money.
Year Two: Get that dream job.
Year Three: Buy our dream house.
Year Four: Renovate said dream house.
Year Five: Have first dream child.
When it works, it's amazing; clean and straightforward. But, life is all about the curves and how we react to them. Show me the person for whom this type of planning has been successful and I will counter with ten who have had to alter their projections.
Now, I am certainly not suggesting that we shouldn't have a plan. What kind of Type A personality would I be if I did that? (I have moving lists that are longer than Santa's at Christmas.) I am merely proffering up the thesis that there are times in our lives when we should do something because it feels right in that space and time. Case in point: By today's standards, we had our children when we were relatively young. We absolutely made a conscious choice. We certainly weren't financially secure and we sure as shit didn't have a clue as to what we were doing 90% of the time. (A deep and heartfelt apology to my sons.) Most of our friends back then were still in their partying and very single '20s, some were backpacking the world, and on many occasions, we were left on the outside looking in simply by virtue of the changed nature of our family status. And yet, I didn't regret my choice then and I still don't regret it today. My boys were and continue to be the best that I have done with my life. The Husband and I instinctively knew that the time was right to start a family (even with all of the obvious obstacles) and with any luck at all, we would reap the benefits of young parenthood in our middle age. Timeliness.
But as I have aged, (gracefully, I might add) I have come to realize that time has a nasty habit of flowing in only one direction. When people around me today talk of five-year life-plans I wince and attempt to bite my tongue. I have seen and experienced too much to pretend that life isn't in the here and now, and that if circumstances allow, those momentous decisions we have been putting off should be made while we are still able to reap the benefits.
Hence our upcoming move to the urban jungle of Canada's largest city. We have talked about it for years. For the sake of timeliness, the time to stop talking is now. (with a hat tip to Rabbi Jordan Pearlson z"l) Over the past two years, we have been rocked to our core by changes. Births, deaths, illnesses, retirements, weddings, new jobs, new businesses, new relationships, new understandings of old ones, aging, and most of all, a deep-seated understanding that life offers no dress rehearsals. Moving is difficult. I won't pretend otherwise. It has dredged up much emotional turmoil and physical pain. (My back and knees might not survive until August.) But as my conversation with my friend, yesterday reminded me, I have passed the long-term planning stage in my life. I am living for today because tomorrow might bring a shitstorm.
Rav Hillel famously said: אם אין אני לי, מי לי? וכשאני לעצמי, מה אני? ואם לא עכשיו, אימתי
Im ein ani li, mi li? U'kh'she'ani le'atzmi, mah ani? V'im lo 'akhshav, eimatai?
If I am not for myself, then who will be for me? But when I am for myself, then what am "I"? And if not now, when? (Pirkei Avot 1:14)
Hillel understood the struggle we face trying to find a balance between self and others. Living a life of complete selfishness or selflessness never works. Both must be factored into the equation. But, Hillel went one step further. He acknowledged that since we are uncertain as to what each day of our lives might bring, we must look at each opportunity as a "once in a lifetime" opportunity since we really don't know if it will ever come around again, and even if we think it might, the context will have certainly altered. Timeliness.
This is one of my favourite songs of the past several years. Do yourselves a favour and spend 4:30 minutes listening. You won't be sorry.