It is the beginning of the Days of Awe, the Jewish High Holidays of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  At synagogue we had special guests from the community say a few words:  the President of Rotary, the head of the Valdosta Chamber of Commerce, and the President of the University.  It was interesting.  All had prepared their comments separately.  Yet, all said virtually the same thing coming from different angles.  And, the sameness that I heard them say in so many different words is this:  the quest for of the human heart for meaning is the heartbeat of community and education, and it is on that adventure which rests all that we feel, think, and do. And, as I listened to them, I started feeling that these holidays are about both a story having been written and one yet to be written, about hope and potential expectations for ourselves and reflecting how we will achieve all we hope for.  On one hand they are an optimistic celebration of the possible, despite the odds, despite the doubts; on the other hand, they are a “whoa” check of the need to think things out before we rush out, of using our energy and inspiration wisely rather than haphazardly.  It’s a balancing act of having your head in the clouds while your feet are planted firmly on the ground, of being both hopeful and careful, of being both euphoric and sober, and making sure your actions do no harm.  Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur are about free will — making the conscious decision to look inside yourself, to look truly at your life, to learn lessons, to admit to omissions, and to make amends.

You know, as a survivor of both cancer and a massive cerebral hemorrhage, I always talking of having learned the lesson of living “today,” but, one thing I never said was that the real lesson was to live “in today,” not “for today.”  Those two little words, “for” and “in,” make for a powerful difference; they are words of expectation; they are words that drive us to live our lives in a certain way; they are words of intention; they are ethical and moralistic words.  As I see it, “for today”” means self-gratification, serving one’s self at whatever and whomever’s expense.  “In today”” means living a life of high expectation; it means an alertness, awareness, attentiveness, and otherness all that is around you; it means living a search for meaning and connection; it means gentleness, sensitivity, reflection, and wonder; it means living a life of courage in the face of doubt and fear; it means living a life of optimism

Trust me, living “”in today”” isn’t easy.  It takes a lot of concerted time and effort and energy.  Maybe that why so many of us just love distractions although we mouth that we dislike them.  Distractions take us away from the uncomfortable, inconvenient, painful, insecurity, lack of a guarantee.  Living “in today” isn’t about being fulfilled, satisfied, or happy all the time; it isn’t about being upbeat all the time.  Living “in today” is living with all that life had to offer in the title of the Clint Eastwood spaghetti western, the good, bad, and ugly.  Living “in today” means totally focusing, deeply concentrating, completely stopping, intently listening, peering into someone’s eyes, paying full attention. Living “in today” demands we confront ourselves, tackle whatever we feel now, to acknowledge the reality of where we are in life, with whom we are, and who we are.   Living “in today” means not playing the “perfection game” or the “100% game.  To be able to hit all that is thrown at you, living “in today” must mean every moment is an “Hineni” moment, an emotionally charged, difficult, and important “here I am” ready, willing, and able moment.  Abraham faced it with Isaac, Jacob faced it with Laban, Moses faced it with the Burning Bush.  We all have our “Hineni” moments.  My first was my epiphany, then the cancer, then that hemorrhage, now impending retirement in less than three months.

Living “in today” means living with both the fast balls and curve balls life throws at you.  That tough.  But, that is a meaningfulness, purposefulness, fulfillment, significance money cannot buy, that cannot be quantified.  But it can be lived.  It’s a deep connection, a community, with, as my President said, of connecting concentric circles: with yourself, with my Susan, with my Michael and Robby, with Terri and Nicole, with my three grandmunchkins, with my dear friends, with my colleagues, with members of the community, with the world.  When I am living “in today,” I’m not sure I can put into words, but I know it; I feel it.  And, when I’m not “in,” as I have been more than a few times lately, I know it as well.

So, for me, this Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are special.  There are be “hokey pokey,” to be all in, to stop being half-hearted, to be wholehearted about whatever comes my way, to be standing in one place without wishing I was in another, to turn face to face with myself, to listen fully, and to pay full attention.  This time it is time to say an “hineni” as a conviction, not a resignation; with high expectation and not regret; to let go of the sadness and greet the joy; to see the coming dawn rather than the departing twilight.  So, okay, I hear life; I’m living “in today”; I’m here, right here, right now, focused, undistracted, listening, ready for a recharging, not thinking of being unplugged, ready to be plugged into something with someone in the here and now.

And, if you think this has nothing to do with teaching, stop and think about it.  I’ll give you a clue.  Wholeheartedness, the labor of love, the “hineni,”is an antidote for burnout, for it’s the halfhearted things, those “un-hineni” things, we do that are the laborious things which weigh on us and wear us out.

Louis