Time

The lapse in time since I last posted, June and  August Prospect  Gardens work sessions, and an 82nd July birthday prompts these reflections about time. As I proceed through the eighth decade of life I am aware of time while not being overly preoccupied with its passage. However, I find myself more often incorporating the Buddhist "Five Subjects for Frequent Recollection" into my daily meditations.

I am subject to aging, Aging is unavoidable.

I am subject to illness. Illness is unavoidable.

I am subject to death. Death is unavoidable.

I will grow different, separated from all that

is dear and appealing to me.

I am the owner of my actions, heir to my actions,

born of my actions, and live dependent on my actions.

What ever I do for good or for evil, to that I will fall heir.

We should often reflect on this.

We are still responsible for our actions despite the passage of time and the realities of aging, illness, and death. Kahlil Gibran (1883-1931) informs us to view time passing in his essay on time. Below is a relevant portion by this Lebanese-American writer, poet, visual artist and considered by many as a philosopher. For the complete essay follow this link.

And an astronomer said, Master, what of Time?
And he answered:
You would measure time the measureless and the immeasurable.
You would adjust your conduct and even direct the course of your spirit according to hours and seasons.
Of time you would make a stream upon whose bank you would sit and watch its flowing.
Yet the timeless in you is aware of life’s timelessness,
And knows that yesterday is but today’s memory and tomorrow is today’s dream.

Gibran's essay reflects Buddhist teachings about time as well as how to respond. As I understand the teachings about time, its not a fixed, objective entity flowing outside of us, but is a cyclical, relative, and mental construct. Time, then, is a phenomena of our minds and what it is depends upon our moment to moment experiences. Being mindful of those passing momentary experiences often leads to feeling the flow of time. Yet there is a cyclical nature of time as we experience life and as the universes themselves expand, dissolve, and reform over immeasurable eons, repeating in vast cosmic cycles. For more details about Buddhist's perspective of time follow this link .

Sometimes during my daily meditations I experience time flowing according to Gibran's message of " make a stream upon whose bank you would sit and watch its flowing."  Other times, if my mind is preoccupied with thoughts and the body is restless, I catch myself glancing at the Insight Timer, fully aware of the passing seconds. Calm  returns after I return to my breath or if needed, I imagine my thoughts are floating on a gentle river as I sit on the banks and watch them go by.  

Jim Croce's popular 1972 song "Time in a Bottle" exemplifies our tendency to want to hold onto and capture time. Croce wrote the song shortly after his son's birth in 1970. It was included in a 1972 album. The song was again published as a single in 1973 after Croce's death in a plane crash. The Recording Industry Association of America certified the single as Gold for selling over a million physical copies in the United States. According to his son's October 9, 2005 Instagram (which I found as a result of an AI based Google search)  the song ultimately came to define his father as an artist, still known and loved today. Those of us who were young in 1973 may recall these lyrics. 

If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day
'Til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you

If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day like a treasure and then
Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with

If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty
Except for the memory
Of how they were answered by you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with

The spirit of  "Time in the Bottle" and Gibran's message of timelessness are echoed in a book I am now reading: Custodians of Wonder: Ancient Customs, Profound Traditions, and the Last People Keeping Them Alive. This non-fiction travelogue and anthropology book by BBC Travel journalist and editor Eliot Stein explores ten remarkable individuals around the world who are single-handedly preserving some of the rarest and oldest vanishing cultural rites and traditions.

Jenny, a friend and the daughter of long time friends Gary and Jane, recommended this delightful book. Chapter two and the second wonder is entitled : "Scandinavia's Last Night Watchman."  Stein chronicles the life of Roland Borg from Ystad, Sweden while telling the history of clocks and time. Roland is the  region's last traditional night watchman carrying on a medieval occupation as the town's watchman. 

According to Stein watchmen in some form have existed "since the dawn of time."  He also reports a researcher's finding that "there were probably tens of thousands of night watchman all across Europe."  Today there are many watchmen re-enactors but few actual watchmen like Roland. 

For the last 57 years, the stout 74 year old Roland, climbs the 14 stories of  Saint Mary's, a 13th century church, to his cramped office above the belfry. Bells toll each hour, and as bells soften to a hum, Roland thrusts a handmade trumpet through open window panes and loudly cries out across the city, reassuring the 29,000 residents that all is well. He repeats this reassurance every 15 minutes from the towers four windows, in each direction, between 9:00 P.M. and 1:00 A.M. 

Roland also watches for fires and any suspicious events that may indicate a crime is underway. He uses a telephone connected to the fire department and the police. A phone in all its iterations has been used since 1884. Roland's role is considered important in efforts to apprehend a notable criminal within the region who sets fires to buildings.   

Nearly every night  for the last 500 years a watchman has climbed the stairs of Ystad's St. Mary's church to watch over the town. For the last 103 years, the individual has been a Borg. Roland learned the role from his father.

Ystad's watchman is in doubt as Roland ages. His son Robert is an unlikely successor and Roland is reluctant to ask him. A man and two women who substitute for when Roland is away are also unlikely candidates. A technological solution is possible but community leaders don't favor this option. In the meantime, many residents value Roland's nightly assurances; leaving their windows cracked open so they can hear Roland's bellowing voice that all is well.

 

Clocks in church towers peeling the time are in many older churches. This one is in the huge and magnificent Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary church in my hometown of Pulaski, WI. The red-brick, modified Romanesque Revival church was constructed between 1923 and 1931. In 1934 Parishioner John Peplinski initially proposed and began collecting funds to install clocks within the distinctive135 foot church towers. In 1958, his son, Norbert Peplinski, raised enough money for two clocks installed in the west tower. 

 As I researched my family roots, I learned that standard time, a construct we take for granted, is relatively recent. Railroads pushed for uniform time zones starting in 1876 because local solar time caused confusion in scheduling and sometimes caused railroad accidents. Prior to 1880 there were over 144 different local times in North America with clocks in church towers often sounding out the local time.

On November 18, 1883, U.S. and Canadian railroads synchronized their operations into four standard continental time zones, moving away from local solar time. While railways initiated the change, standard time zones did not become official United States national law until Congress passed the Standard Time Act on March 19, 1918. 

As I mention in past postings I often experience timelessness while caring for Prospect Gardens with other volunteers. Perhaps this sense is deep within me and from my farm upbringing, when time followed the natural rhythms of the day and the seasons. This was especially true during the summer months when we were free from the schedule of school but not free from chores and harvesting crops. I, with my brothers and sisters, would wake up at sunrise, do the necessary chores, harvest crops, break for meals announced by my mother, and end the day with barn chores and milking the cows. 

Pictured is the June 20th crew. On the second step sitting with her hands folded are Joyce and then Laura in her floppy hat. Me in my usual hat, then Astrid and  Rajeev. Taking the picture was my wife Ann B., also part of the crew. Thank you all for your helping hands, your generosity, and for a pleasant Saturday morning.

 

A special thank you to Rajeev, now a sophomore at UW-Madison. I greatly appreciated that you took time from your busy schedule of jobs, other volunteering, and from family time. I so enjoyed talking with you while we mulched and weeded. 

August 22nd Crew

 

Here's the August 22nd crew: Ann B., Joyce and Laura. If we had awards, the three would deserve special commendation and recognition. Maybe something that acknowledge their years of volunteering.

The yellows of August blooms have once again spread throughout the Gardens. The brilliant red Cardinal plants  stand out. Milkweed blossoms attract the migrating butterfly.  

Meanwhile the asters are starting to bloom while the purple cone flowers and the bee balm have gone to seed. The goldfinches are feeding on early Hyssop seeds. The cycles of nature and life continue.    

I end with one of my favorite Carl Sandberg's poems about time and its antidote of love, if time becomes a burden as it surely can and will. He published the poem in his 1920 collection "Smoke and Steel." 

Let Love Go On

Let it go on; let the love of this hour be poured out till all the answers are made, the last dollar spent and the last blood gone.
 
Time runs with an ax and a hammer, time slides down the hallways with a pass-key and a master-key, and time gets by, time wins.
 
Let the love of this hour go on; let all the oaths and children and people of this love be clean as a washed stone under a waterfall in the sun.
 
Time is a young man with ballplayer legs, time runs a winning race against life and the clocks, time tickles with rust and spots.
 
Let love go on; the heartbeats are measured out with a measuring glass, so many apiece to gamble with, to use and spend and reckon; let love go on.

 

P.S.: The young Sandhill cranes continue to thrive, as shown in this August 3rd picture, and are almost fully grown. A neighbor reports seeing them fly which I anticipate as time continues to flow by. 
. 

Be well. Enjoy the fading summer and the approaching autumn.