Divorcing Ourselves from Time

It’s always and forever this time of year when I become acutely aware of the changes afoot. Just last night, as my husband and I sat together in our living room, taking refuge from the oppressive humidity outside, he said that he’s already noticed the shortening of the days. He surprised me with that. I hadn’t noticed, but he’s right: you can already see and feel summer’s middle age.

I really have to gird my loins for this. Not much gets me down, but the passing of summer tests me. Today is July 24. Our gardens are in full swing, but the cucumber plants are already passing their peak. We’re readying to plant the second greens beds for autumn harvest. All the flowers are blooming: nothing left is in the blush of its youth.

Meh. You’d think with so many summers under my belt that I’d be all right with this. But no. Summer is life, joy, food, flowers, sunshine, and hope. No other season gives us as much as summer does. Even the promise of football season, which I love, isn’t sweetening the deal of autumn’s approach.

In the blink of an eye, we’ll be at the end of August, and the gardens will begin a noticeable descent. But let me stop with this complaining. We’re in summer now. We have fresh garden food and flowers now, grass that needs mowing now, sun on our backs now, and bare earth under our feet now. We have that now, right now. Namaste.

Buddhism teaches us to find meaning in the present moment. With our persistent monkey minds, chattering and stressing all day long, this kind of mindfulness is uncomfortable. We’re not wired for it. It requires a strategy – a strategy of divorcing ourselves from time. Distancing ourselves from the sliver on the clock face.

I must keep reminding myself that summer is an event, not a thing that can be held on to. Same goes for a flower, a meal, a spouse, true love, a great book, sexual ecstasy, tomatoes, dogs, and sunflowers. All these things are expressions of the world, not the world itself. There is no Rock of Ages. Everything passes and must end.

With that, let me tell you what’s been great about this summer so far. My husband and I have enjoyed time on our boat. We’ve been making and eating amazing vegan food – even though he hasn’t made the transition to veganism (yet) - and I discovered Navajo tacos, made with homemade refried beans, and they are life. 

My husband finished the gorgeous stone work around our fireplace and installed a rustic pine mantle made of reclaimed wood. It’s beautiful, and we often look at it and congratulate him on his impeccable work. We’ve been enjoying time together, and around our home.

As I’m busy outdoors in summer and read less, I haven’t been consuming books as I usually do. But I’ve been languidly reading the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. It sounds like a grim read, but it’s not. It’s full of the beauty and brilliance of Buddhist teachings, and I recommend it to anyone who has ever wondered about anything. Lots of wisdom in it.

We celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary last month by taking the boat to Block Island and having lunch at The Oar, an oceanside eatery with great food – and particularly great piña coladas – beautiful views, and lots of local history. It was an idyllic day, but above all, I remained grateful for this man, this husband, that I’ve been blessed with.

I can’t express how happy I am that, after years of seeking princes but kissing frogs, I found my soulmate, and he found his. We both fought hard for years to purge toxic, bitter, and damaging people from our lives and move forward into peace, quiet, and deep love. Marriage has been a challenge and a consecration.

Right now, I’m eating a salad of fresh cucumbers from our gardens. A little dill from our herb bed, a little red onion for bite, some olive oil and tahini for extra flavor. It tastes like summer.

I know the season is beginning to draw down. This is the Buddha’s teaching of impermanence. Life is a river. It moves along progressively, a successive series of unrelated moments, joined together to give the illusion of flow. It moves from cause to cause, effect to effect. Today’s river is not the river of yesterday. This is life. Let’s find joy and discover our purpose in it.

Barbie xo