Summer's Passing

Sitting here in the kitchen, window open on what will be a hot, maybe stormy day. Calm and tolerable for now anyway, gray sky, birds singing. Cardinal calling, robins trilling, chickadees twittering -- and the very cat-like mewing of a catbird stealing cherries. When I look out I see the bright red of the cherries surrounded by green leaves, a paler green lawn, some yellow flowers, pale gray sky, brown tree trunks and more green leaves. Coffee and a laptop, a bit of time on my hands. How can I find anything to complain about?

I can though, when I slip out of the present moment. I remind myself that summer is followed by fall, and fall by the stark white cold of winter. The cherries and leaves will be gone, the birds will be gone or hunkered down, the tapestry of summer replaced by carpets of white. The year is a cycle, but also, for those of us of a certain age, part of a downward cycle. My college daughter took a history class this summer, and the last couple lectures covered the years of my childhood and youth, all slipped into history. Though that's okay, I suppose, and I shouldn't try to resurrect the me I was back then. As Joan Baez sang, "The sixties are over, so just let him be."

Still, there are these intimations of mortality that have popped up lately. Since I started at the gym, I've had to have PT for my knee and my back, the result of substituting planned activity for what was once the easy graceful flow of a younger man. But that was okay, things actually got better with therapy and time.

But then there's my foot. Shortly after I got home from England it began to hurt a lot, and swelled to the point I could barely put a shoe on. I thought I had a stress fracture from all the walking I'd done. So more therapy, maybe some rest, I thought, more structure to my workouts.

But I was wrong.

From the X-rays and bloodwork it appears to be the beginnings of arthritis in the foot, that has for the first time had a flare-up. Likely osteoarthritis, simply age-related and something to be managed, never cured, the beginnings of a deterioration that can be slowed but not stopped. Not gout anyway, nor lupus. But some anomalies in the bloodwork, meaning maybe it's the start of some form of systemic arthritis, which is not good (though not likely, I'll know more after I see the rheumatologist in October).

But it made me think. About the new bicycle I bought but have not yet ridden, due to storms and schedule issues; wouldn't it be ironic if I never did? Though I know the foot doesn't hurt in my spinning class, so there's that. And the projects I'm undertaking in my workshop, what if they don't come to be? It's life reminding me that things don't last and that all plans are contingent.

Makes me think about the context of time, too. Often when I see a derelict swing set in a backyard, I think what a waste of time and money that was, for only the few years until the kids grew out of it. But then I recall when I was one of those kids, and that swing set was always there, always welcome, and it seemed to last forever. I grew away from it, but found comfort seeing it there, remembering the good times I got from it.

Time passes, things change, but the passage of time is only empty if we empty it. If we allow ourselves to experience the fullness of the now, our past and present will be enriched. The future will take care of itself.

As for me and my physical complaints, I recall something from Thomas Merton's The Way of Chuang Tsu:

It's a story of four friends, who love to sit and talk and laugh.

"Then one of them fell ill
And another went to see him.
'Great is the Maker,' said the sick one,
'Who made me as I am.
. . . .

"He dragged himself to the well,
Saw his reflection, and declared,
'What a mess
He has made of me!'

"His friend asked:
'Are you discouraged?'

'Not at all! Why should I be?'

. . . .

'There is a time for putting together
And another time for taking apart.
He who understands
This course of events
Takes each new state
In its proper time
With neither sorrow nor joy.'

. . . . "


Now is the time. And only now. And for now, it's summertime and the living is easy. It's certainly beautiful, and here for the taking and partaking.