“I don’t know how to make the time pass.” In words like these, a friend laments the boredom that retirement has brought him. He wishes that he had more going on in his life so as to escape the emptiness of his days.

My friend needs something that would make a given day stand out as different from the others. Having them all on the same flat plane, with hardly any peaks and high points, renders his life oppressively dull.

In the contemporary industrialized world, it has become easier to escape the natural seasons than it used to be. Central heating, air conditioning, electric light─to say nothing of television and the Internet─can make us insensitive to the world around us.

And the secular quality of daily life usually makes us unaware of the liturgical markers that, in religious society, moved people to feel times and seasons as sacred. When, for example, the bell of my parish church rings out a prayer at noon each day, I wager that not one person in a thousand of those within earshot ever thinks of the special character of midday that the bells are meant to evoke.

Thus a sense of sameness and monotony comes to characterize the daily lives of many people, perhaps especially those of us whose lives are no longer structured by paid employment. We may chafe under the burden of excessive leisure that defies our capability for finding enjoyable and absorbing things to do.   

I thought of my friend and others like him during a recent talk given by a couple of my age peers, Elizabeth and David Dodson Gray. Using a variety of often unlikely props, these Wellesley residents collaborated in explaining how they use time to enhance  the life of their family.

Underlying their approach is the liturgical year of the religious tradition that they hold dear. Both of them are steeped in Christian theology, he as a retired Episcopal minister, she as a former divinity school student.

In their animated and colorful presentation, Elizabeth and David explain how, for variety’s sake, they divide the year into nine parts. For each of these seasons they have gathered objects that give expression to the season and act as stimulants to thought and action.

Basic to the “stuff” of each season is color. “For me, color is very, very important,” says Elizabeth. “God is a sensuous God,” she adds, in appreciation of the material world.

She speaks first about the season of Lent, which she and her husband are currently celebrating. This they do by bringing into their home many purple things, to create an atmosphere appropriate to a time of penitence. These include candles, flowers, small statues, paintings─ even wash cloths. Among the paintings is one of Jesus standing with other poor men in a breadline.

For Easter, they choose objects in yellow or orange. Pillows, Marimekko tablecloths, a painting of a sunflower, tulips and other flowers. All of these things express that “we are living in a rejoicing time.”

The next season is the month of May. Then they emphasize Mother’s Day, an observance that Elizabeth considers important because it can serve to honor mothers everywhere. The color she chooses is pink. Pillow cases, a basket filled with dried roses, candles, and a poem written by a minister friend all mark the occasion.

To celebrate the arrival of summer and its duration, the couple selects blue and green. This reminds them of the sea as they try to bring the natural world into their house.

In the fall, walks with the children were scheduled so they could collect leaves in various colors. The house is decorated with stained glass autumn leaves. Orange and yellow runners appear on the dining table. A still life of seasonal fruit is prominently displayed.

The four other special times for this family are Advent, Christmas, Mid-Winter, and Valentine’s season. Each of them bears a distinctive color motif, blue for winter and red for Valentine’s, for instance.

At first glance, this segmenting of the year into nine parts may seem forced, even precious and fastidious. But viewed sympathetically, it qualifies as a clever way of marking and enlivening the days of one’s life.

“The mood of the whole house changes dramatically,” says Elizabeth of the scheme she and her husband have concocted. They experience at first hand the power of the senses to affect one’s interior life. Bringing up their children in this way must have given them a concrete sense of what distinctive times and seasons mean.

This scheme strikes me as valuable for its power to differentiate among the days of human life. Not all days are the same. Some are special; others less so.

As Elizabeth says of her experience: “It lights up time for you. It makes you much more appreciative of the seasons.”

Richard Griffin