“The next life or tomorrow—we can never be certain which will come first.”–His Holiness the Dalai Lama
Ethics for the New Millennium

 

Last January, as I was lying on a hospital bed with a nurse hovering at my side while my blood pressure was being taken every three minutes, I had not yet read any of the Dalai Lama’s Ethics for a New Millennium. As the nurse slipped a nitroglycerin tablet under my tongue, I had every reason to believe that the symptoms I was experiencing were caused by a heart attack. At that moment—more than at any other time in my life—I realized that there is no guarantee for tomorrow. In fact, I was not sure that I would survive the afternoon.

I did not have a heart attack. And I have seen several tomorrows since then. Yet, I do not go to sleep at night with the same certainty that I did before this episode.

Since the “heart incident,” I have been evaluating my priorities. Where do I spend my time? How do I spend my time? What is important to me? Would I be content with today if it were my last? As part of my reflections, I realized that my work/life balance had become unbalanced. To get back into balance, I have withdrawn from committees and given up other responsibilities. Just become someone else thinks an activity is important is no longer sufficient justification for me to take on the task.

This is not to say that I am totally cutting my workload. For example, there is one project—which I can not discuss publicly at this time—that I have been lobbying hard to take on. Although there will be little time savings between this project and one that I have just given up, there is a better alignment with the (hopefully) new responsibilities in terms of my skills, personality, and interests.

Taking on projects that better fit my talents is only one aspect of reestablishing a healthy balance in my life. As a member of the faculty, during the academic year, I typically work seven days a week. Therefore, it is too easy for work to encroach on family time. But if family time is not supported, I feel an emotional drain that negatively impacts the quality of my work. Working longer is often counterproductive.

Two days ago, I learned a colleague my age has brain cancer. Because my mother has been living with cancer for three years (after being told that there was only a 10% chance she would survive one year), I am not suggesting that my colleague’s life is coming to an end. But the illusive idea that we are guaranteed a tomorrow is something that neither he nor my mother can hold. If I am to live a contented life, I cannot hold that illusion either.

For some people, accepting the reality of His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s observation can lead to bitterness or depressed resignation. However, acceptance gives me freedom to act decisively today. This, of course, does not mean that I cannot plan for the future. After all, I just completed an application to attend a seminar in August 2007 that, if accepted, requires me to teach world history during the 2008-2009 academic year.

What acceptance means is that I am not a slave to the future. My life will not be more exciting or more fulfilled or more of anything else if my application is accepted or the new responsibilities are approved or any other future event takes place. Acceptance allows me to strive for that contented, balanced life today.

Yes, it would be nice if things were different, if my mother and my colleague did not have to deal with cancer, if my partner were able to move to Michigan, if I did not have to leave home by 6:00am tomorrow for my 4½ hour drive to campus, if I had actually graded that assignment over semester break. But tonight, as I lay my head on my pillow, I cannot be sure if the next life or tomorrow will come first.

–Steven L. Berg, PhD