To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted…
(“Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season),” Songwriter: Pete Seeger)
When the song, “Turn! Turn! Turn!” was recorded released in 1965 by the rock group, The Byrds, it quickly captured the sentiments of the time and rose and to number one on Billboard’s “Hot 100.” The Byrds were not the first to record the song. Their version was preceded by a 1962 recording by the Limelighters and by Pete Seeger on his album, The Bitter and the Sweet. Over the next several years, other artists also recorded the song, including Judy Collins, Joe Cocker, Dolly Parton and Nina Simone. Is it any wonder? The words from Ecclesiastes describe life’s journey, the inevitability of its cycles and seasons, the story of the entire lifespan.
There’s something about the approaching autumn, for me, that invites more quiet reflection, a daily tumble of memories triggered by the shift in temperature, trees beginning to turn color, the scent of the air. “The other side of spring,” a character called autumn in a long ago French film. It’s an apt metaphor for aging, which we all become more aware of as the years pass. I think of my own life now as synonymous with autumn, reminding me of how human life is so intimately connected to Nature’s seasons–metaphorically and physically.
Henry David Thoreau, famous for his book, Walden, saw the seasons as symbolic of human life. Just as plants go through stages such as bud, leaf, flower, and fruit, or seed, seedling, and tree, he observed that man, too, experienced similar stages of development throughout the life span. However, his observations were not entirely novel. The ancient Greeks also saw seasons as metaphors for life’s different stages. Childhood was synonymous with spring and youth with summer. Autumn described adulthood and winter, old age. The Seasons of Life: Our Dramatic Journey from Birth to Death, by authors John Kotre and Elizabeth Hall, also explored how our life journeys mirror Nature’s seasons. Using biographical sketches of real people at all life stages or “seasons,” they demonstrated how our lives are influenced by them, as well as the times of day, circling of the planets, phases of the moon, and growth and harvesting of crops.
It’s hardly a surprise that seasons also affect our health–something I’m reminded of as I’ve felt a dull ache in my fingers these past couple of weeks as I write. Whether allergies during spring and summer, colds and flu in the winter, or even the discomfort of arthritis as weather cools, many of us have experienced these common health issues many times over. The BBC reported a study where researchers analyzed blood and tissue samples from more than 16,000 people living around the world. Of all the genes they scrutinized, they were most interested in the ones involved with immunity and inflammation. Not surprisingly, during the cold months of winter, those genes were more active for people living north of the equator.
Yet there’s more. Have you ever found yourself feeling a little out of sorts on those days that winter weather keeps you indoors? While I complained of “relentless” sunshine when my husband and I lived in Southern California, preferring, instead, four distinct seasons, I’ll admit to feeling glum now and then when winter seems to be especially harsh or unending. I’m not unusual. Seasonal can changes affect our moods. I used to attribute those grey days to my being “weather sensitive,” but that was long before I learned about “seasonal affective disorder” (SAD). According to Psychology Today, some people do experience a seasonal depression that doctors feel may be related to changing levels of light. SAD can range from mild to debilitating for several months at a time.
Seasonal changes can also affect a number of other, potentially more harmful, health conditions. A 2017 article in the Huffington Post, reported on research studies from the NIH that found “autoimmune diseases, cardiovascular events, acute gout, type 1 diabetes, type 2 diabetes, hip fractures, mental health disorders, migraines, and emergency surgery and even mortality rates affected by the seasonal changes.
Fitzhugh Mullan, MD, writing in The New England Journal of Medicine in 1985, described his discovery of a malignant mass in his chest and as an outcome of his personal experience, defined what he termed “the seasons of cancer survivorship:” acute (diagnosis and treatment); extended (post-treatment); and permanent (long-term survivorship). Several years later, Kenneth Miller, MD expanded Mullan’s original seasons to four distinct phases or “seasons” of cancer survivorship, building from observations not only of his patients’ experiences but also his wife’s. In an article published by Cure Today magazine, he compared her stages of cancer and recovery to the seasons of nature, writing:
I have learned just as much about cancer and the seasons of survivorship in my work as a medical oncologist as I have alongside my wife, Joan, he wrote, who was treated 10 years ago for acute leukemia and more recently for breast cancer. Her diagnosis was certainly like the cold, bleak winter, and transition like the rebirth of spring. And while each season was different than the others, each was beautiful in its own way.
Nature’s four seasons have always been a predominant theme in poetry, and inspire the poetry of cancer. Marilyn Hacker’s 1994 collection of poetry, Winter Numbers, invokes the darkness and cold of winter as she details the loss of many of her friends to AIDS or cancer as she, too, struggled with breast cancer. Dan Matthews, poet, chronicled the journey of his wife’s terminal breast cancer in his collection, Rain, Heavy at Times: Life in the Cancer Months (2007), while John Sokol invoked summer in his collection, In the Summer of Cancer (2001). Barbara Crooker, in her poem, “For a Friend Lying in Intensive Care Waiting For Her White Blood Cells to Rejuvenate After a Bone Marrow Transplant,” used springtime to signal her friend’s renewal and rejuvenation:
The jonquils. They come back. They split the earth with
their green swords, bearing cups of light. ‘
The forsythia comes back, spraying its thin whips with
blossom, one loud yellow shout.
The robins. They come back. They pull the sun on the
silver thread of their song.
The iris come back. They dance in the soft air in silken
gowns of midnight blue.
The lilacs come back. They trail their perfume like a scarf
of violet chiffon.
And the leaves come back, on every tree and bush, millions
and millions of small green hands applauding your return.
(From: The Cancer Poetry Project, Volume 1, 2001)
We’re moving toward the “other side of spring” now. Even my potted plants on the balcony are showing signs of submitting to a change of season, looking a little less vibrant by the week. While I’m reluctant to bid summer good-bye, I’m eager to see the tree-lined streets alive with colors of gold, yellow, and scarlet and feel the crispness in the air as I walk. Each season has its unique qualities, and each stirs up memories of people, places and experiences in our lives. “Aren’t we lucky the seasons are four…?”
Writing Suggestions
Explore how seasons influence your life or cancer journey. What seasonal metaphor best describes the stage of life or cancer survivorship you are experiencing? Here are some suggestions help you get started writing:
- Write about the different seasons in your life, whether the cancer journey, a marriage, loss and grief, adulthood– any of life’s seasons important or significant to you in some way.
- If you are a cancer survivor, explore how Miller’s “Seasons of Survivorship” apply (or not) to your journey. Which “season” has been the most difficult to endure? Why?
- Explore cancer in a poem, using seasonal metaphors to describe your experience. You might begin by “exploding” as many images of that season on the page before you begin to shape a poem. Be as descriptive as possible.
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