Only For Now
I love the fall. The beautiful colors. The crisp air. The crunch of the leaves beneath my feet. It is my absolute favorite season. It also seems to be the shortest of the four. As quickly as fall comes, it goes, and I’m left feeling much like the trees it leaves in its wake: bare, vulnerable, and bracing myself for the freeze of a long, New England winter. Ever since the leaves began to change, I’ve had the “Avenue Q” lyrics to “Only for Now” in my head. Rather than lament transience, the song instead celebrates the comfort that comes with the temporary. “Don't stress, relax, let life roll off your backs. Except for death and paying taxes, everything in life is only for now. Each time you smile...only for now. It'll only last a while...only for now. Life may be scary...only for now. But it's only temporary.” In a world where there is far more that is out of our control than within it, where uncertainty prevails, and where we can’t know what tomorrow will bring, the song advises that we take comfort in the fact that it’s only for now. And that we savor the things that bring us joy, knowing that they too are only for now.
The song reminds me of the story of King Solomon who sent his most trusted minister to bring him a ring with magical powers; a ring that if looked upon by someone happy, would make them sad, and if looked upon by someone sad, would make them happy. After a series of unsuccessful attempts, the minister eventually returns with a ring engraved with just three Hebrew words: Gam zeh ya-avor - this too shall pass. Comfort and pain, joy and sorrow, are only temporary.
Few things better capture the embrace of impermanence like the Jewish holiday of Sukkot. Literally translated as the “Festival of Booths,” Sukkot is a fall harvest celebration that also commemorates the Israelites’ forty year sojourn through the wilderness on their way to the promised land. We observe it by building and dwelling in shelters similar to the huts the Israelites lived in during that time. These structures are designed to be temporary. With walls and a roof that are not permitted to be permanent, they are intentionally built to be vulnerable to the elements. And nothing is more vulnerable than a temporary structure in a New England fall. As charming as the season is in this part of the country, what the Hallmark movies and The Gilmore Girls reruns don’t show you is the mercurial temperament of our fall weather.
Spending time in our Sukkah is always a source of extreme happiness, and of deep frustration, in our small Massachusetts town. We adorn it with twinkle lights and instagram worthy decorations. We create our own little slice of autumnal paradise; one in which we spend almost zero time. Because Sukkot in New England means that regardless of when the holiday falls year to year, it will always be the windiest and rainiest week of the entire month. And we’ll watch helplessly from our kitchen as our sweet, unsheltered little shelter sways precariously in the wind, seemingly ready to take flight or buckle under the intense rainfall. We even had to take it down several days early this year, due to an untimely Noreaster.
And yet as sad as this annual struggle with the weather makes me, is it not the quintessential embodiment of the “only for now” philosophy? The sukkah, much like fall itself, is an annual reminder to appreciate precious, fleeting moments and to take comfort in the temporary nature of our struggles. It’s only for now. The fiery colors of the trees? They’re only for now. The apple-picking outings? They’re only for now. The fall festivals, pumpkin spice everything, football Sundays? They’re only for now. And while that may make us wistful, it should also make us grateful. Grateful for these moments that fill us with joy, reminding us to savor every minute.
And just as we recognize the impermanence of the good, we need the same reminder of the transience of the challenging. The uncertainty about what comes next? Only for now. The agony of making a difficult decision? Only for now. The fear that comes from doing something for the first time? Only for now. Perhaps if we could truly internalize this mantra, the good times would feel all the more special, and the hard times would feel that much more bearable.
I don’t believe that the magic of Solomon’s ring was found in making sad people happy, and happy people sad as he had requested. I believe that the power of those words - this too shall pass - lay in their ability to bring a distressed person comfort, and to offer a satisfied person gratitude.
Our misguided belief in the permanence of all things results in humans continually taking joy for granted and drowning in sorrow, believing there is no end to either. So perhaps the true secret to a life well-lived is to remember that everything has an end, and that this, all of this, is only for now.
What would this mindset allow you to do? What would it permit you to release? What would you do with a life, and a love, and a moment that’s only for now?