Changing Seasons

Seasons of the Heart

“And you would accept the seasons of your heart just as you have always accepted that seasons pass over you fields and you would watch with serenity through the winter of your grief.”

                                  Kahlil Gibran

“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.”

                                  Anne Bradstreet

         I remember in spring writing about how difficult the winter had been; unusually cold for the Deep South.  Now, with three straight months of ninety plus temperatures, I can feel myself leaning hard into fall.  This morning there is a slight nip in the air.  The temp is around seventy for the first time since May and there is an audible sigh coming from my husk of lawn, my drooping flowers.  “Thank God,” they are singing, “give us more.”  We always want more of the good stuff, don’t we?

         I heard an interview yesterday with Jane Fonda, who has written a new book about aging, entitled Prime Time.  She talked about how much she is enjoying this stage of her life, the “final act”.  Her emotions have settled; no more depression or comparing herself to others and coming up short, no more searching for perfection.  I wonder whether she would appreciate that quietude as much if she hadn’t had such a turbulent youth and young adulthood.  We need something to compare serenity to in order to fully embrace it.

         Erik Erikson, in his stages of psychosocial development, labeled this stage Integrity vs. Despair.  He felt that much of life is spent preparing for the middle-adult years when we are working and rearing children, and the latter-adult years are spent recovering from it.  When we can look back on our lives with happiness and contentment, knowing that all our struggles had meaning and reaped benefits, we arrive at Integrity.  When we reach this stage and look back with regret, cannot see our role in the struggles, and only feel resentment, we arrive at despair.

I am reminded of a prayer of St. Teresa of Avila:  “Lord, thou knowest better than I myself, that I am growing older and will someday be old.  Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking that I must say something on every subject and on every occasion…Release me from craving to straighten out everybody’s affairs…Make me thoughtful but not moody…Keep me reasonably sweet, for a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil…Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places and talents in unexpected people, and give, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.”

                          Amen, y’all,

                          Jane