A Time for Every Purpose under Heaven

Wisconsin River Sandbars

Sandbar Fingers © 2012 Bo Mackison

Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares that will not withdraw from us. ~ Maya Angelou

It is autumn along the Wisconsin River.

The river is low, a result of the drought in spring and most of summer. August’s rains were not enough to fill the banks of the river. And so sandbar fingers stretch from shore. As far as I can see, peering from the bridge, there are sandbars edging from shore and sandbars rising from the river’s middle.

Trees across the river have changed their summer greens for autumn oranges and yellows, and soon, it seems too soon, the glorious autumn colors will change again. They will turn into autumn’s piles of crisped, brown leaves below bare branched trees.

Change. Nature manages its changes, coinciding with the seasons, recycling over and over. Nature responds to changes that aren’t cyclical on a yearly calendar also, ones that track over decades and centuries. Rivers overflow, flood the nearby lands and the nearest buildings and roads in river towns. Rivers run low, exposing land that is usually hidden from sight, once only the realm of underwater creatures.

To everything – turn, turn, turn
There is a season – turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven.
~ lyrics from Turn, Turn, Turn by The Byrds

It is autumn in my life, too. I walk through the yearly calendar’s changes. Month by month, I anticipate spring, summer, fall, winter. Sometimes I know what to expect. Some things are planned – a joyous wedding, a planned holiday with family, a special birthday. Some events are unplanned – a family member’s lost job, the death of a close friend, a change in a long-standing relationship.

Perhaps one of the most difficult is the aging of parents and the responsibilities that come with that change in family status. Elderly mothers and fathers are no longer the matriarchs and patriarchs in charge; middle-aged sons and daughters are no longer the ones that obey. Shifting responsibilities, shifting emotions.

Our lives follow similar patterns to those found in nature. The river runs low. Our energies run low. Sandbars are exposed, exposing that which had been underwater, out of sight, for many years. The status quo is disrupted. Secrets spill open, lives are altered. There is no taking back the time, no denying the newly discovered information.

The trees drop their leaves and only the gray skeletons remain. Some changes are short-term, like the bare limbed trees. Spring brings budding leaves; summer, a fully leafed tree. Flowers bloom, grass grows.

Sitting silently
Doing nothing
Spring Comes.
The grass grows by itself.
~ Zen Haiku

Some of nature’s changes take longer periods of time, like the deep river that will only stretch to its edges after many rains and deep snowfalls. Even then, there are subtle changes in its ebb and flow.

Some of the changes – severe damage to the earth from which it cannot recover in a many a generation’s lifetime or a death in a family – they leave a more enduring mark of change. Time passes. We adapt to the constancy of change.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and the owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is searching for clarity amidst many changes.

Salmo Pond in November

Salmo Pond

Salmo Pond © 2011 Bo Mackison

Observe always that everything is the result of change, and get used to thinking that there is nothing Nature loves so well as to change existing forms and make new ones like them.  ~ Marcus Aurelius

November – the month when the brilliant colors of October change to muted hues of yellows, greens, browns. Tree skeletons appear. Grasses that waved tall and proud are now brittle and bent to the ground. There are days when the sky is blue and sunshine gives nature a soft glow, but these days are outnumbered by cloudy gray days, days of rain and wind.

November is all about change. This is the time of year that offers us lessons in acceptance — offers us glimpses of nothingness, provides  us with daily reminders that nothing stays the same, and challenges us to practice the art of learning how to say goodbye.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer, owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  It is November, perhaps the most contemplative month of the year.

Opening Slowly

Upon Opening, Tulip at Allen Centennial Garden, University of Wisconsin-Madison

Upon Opening, A Tulip © 2011 Bo Mackison

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” ~~Anais Nin

Seems I need to have this quote up for another day.

That day does come, the day mentioned in the quote by Anais Nin . . . the day when it is more painful to stay hidden, even if you are tucked in, swaddled and protected. The time comes when you need to take a deep breath and open yourself to the wonders and joys of the world.

You can’t stay hidden because not everything is wondrous and joyful. Some things in this world are painful or frightening or just plain messed up, some people are angry and don’t care what they say or who they hurt in their bid to get what they want.

I got a message in an email today which went something like this: If you look for the good while you are on your journey, and look for good in your relationships, and in your work, then you will find good.

And if you look for the bad, well, then you will find that, too. Ah, so true.

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I am back home after spending the first part of 2011 in Arizona, had a couple of rough weeks adjusting to life back in Wisconsin. Still adjusting, still adjusting…