Thursday, September 09, 2004

And Now For Something Completely Different

Yesterday, barely a week in advance, I made reservations for Rosh Hashona services. “Reservations.” What a provocative word.  It’s weird at the outset to be reserving a place to worship, but I guess that most of us are like most of me – attending services once a year, the one (or two) times the halls are filled beyond capacity.  I have to make sure to take steps in advance to save myself a decent seat at the tabernacle. 

And then there’s the sense of “having reservations.” Like I’m holding back, somehow unsure and therefore unwilling to commit myself.  But Rosh Hashona, for those who haven’t endured my excesses on the subject, is an experience I like to commit to utterly, to immerse myself in it.  I try to get as much out of these services as I can, to use them to recharge me for the long looming winter ahead.  I embrace the high holidays.  So these are reservations, so to speak, without reservation.

My (jewish) new year’s theme this year seems to be “le vrai maintenant.” I don’t know why sometimes a French phrase will just occur to me out of the blue but it does occasionally happen, and this one – “the true now” – only sounds right to me en francais.  I don’t even barely speak the language, mind you.  So when I start thinking in tongues on a seasonal theme, or this seasonal theme at least, I try to attend to it. 

So: le vrai maintenant.  As far as I’m concerned, it’s more “now” now than I think it’s ever been before.  I have a past and a future and a bunch of stuff that’s presently right here keeping me company.  I have projects – personal and professional.  I’m at any number of critical junctures. I’m so on the cusp I’m almost giddy.

There was a time on Kauai five years ago when we took a hike into Waimea Canyon.  At one point the path spurred out to a pali – a finger of land that stuck out some distance into the impossibly deep, achingly red chasm.  My destination was a small flat area at the tip of the pali - the furthest reach of this tenuous knob of cliff.  To get to it I had to walk a narrow path, eight inches or so wide, with nothing to either side but a 1,500 foot drop straight down.  A strong, warm wind blew around me.  As I inched my way forward I found that if I looked down at my feet I was fine, but if I looked up and out I immediately felt as if I were in a free fall, dropping into the abyss.  I experienced this sensation with my whole body; my heart rushed into my throat every time I raised my eyes. At that point, “now” felt very now.  And now, now, now: now, that pali has been converted from a rock ledge to my whole life, that flagrant canyon is transformed into the entire world.  And I am standing here, looking at my feet for stability and strength, into the swirling wilds and impenetrable depths for inspiration and context.  Le Vrai Maintenant indeed. 

Instead of Yom Kippur services, I’ll be going up to Philo to relax in the cabin in the woods.  But that’s still a ways away.  For now, it’s still now.  And how.

so what you’re saying is that you have religious reservations...has it been nearly a year already?

reservations?  do they have a smoking / non-smoking section too?  can you have a drink in the narthex while you wait for your pew to be bussed? 

:) hey—i’m going to hell anyway, so why not!

no but there’s a “fragrance free” section and a “no speaking” section.  But smoking?  unless it’s herb or cloves, don’t expect a warm reception.  This is Berkeley, after all. 

but dude, it’s such a great ceremony they do.  you ought to check it out.

Now isn’t that interesting because one of the tricks I use to remind myself to be “right here, right now” is to look at my feet...because wherever my feet are is where the rest of me should be as well, including my panicky wandering mind.  Blessings during the High Holidays my sweet.  I always love to read what you write about them.