Impermanence

In the teachings of the Buddha, there is a an idea of impermanence. Not as an abstract idea, but as a living reality that touches every moment of our existence. Sit long enough with life and you begin to notice a simple pattern. Everything changes. Everything moves. Nothing stays. Everything has an end.

We often resist this truth. We build our lives as though things will last. We cling to relationships, possessions, identities and even our own thoughts. We say, this is mine, this is me, this will remain. Yet life keeps showing us otherwise. A beloved object breaks. A season changes. A person we depend on walks a different path. Even joy, when held too tightly, slips through the fingers. It is simply the nature of things.

I am reminded of a dialogue from the film Anand. A man facing the certainty of his approaching death speaks to his doctor, who may have decades left to live. And yet, both are moving towards the same end. One may have six months, another seventy years, but the direction is no different. It is only a matter of time passing. The Bhagavad Gita offers a similar reflection, describing life as the shedding of worn out clothes, making way for the new.

We have to understand that holding on cannot prevent change. It can only create suffering. The tighter we grasp, the more we feel the pain when things inevitably shift. Letting go is therefore not an act of loss. It is an act of alignment with an eternal reality. This does not mean indifference. I still appreciates the warmth of the sun, the taste of good food, material goods like a good camera or a music system, and the time spent with family and friends. But there is an awareness beneath it all that I have started realizing. Like the cliche that says – this too will pass, but I see this cliche in a different light. And because of that awareness, I now find that each moment becomes more precious.

A mug of beer (or a cup of tea for that matter) is savoured more deeply when you know it will soon be empty. A conversation becomes more meaningful when you understand it cannot be repeated in exactly the same way again. Even sorrow, when seen through the lens of impermanence, carries a different weight. It is no longer an endless burden, but just a passing cloud. In this way, impermanence is not merely a source of sadness. It is also the doorway to peace.

Every thing is temporary. Everything that is there has an end. This is what Buddhist philosophy teaches in its simplest form. Even the grandest creations of human civilisation do not escape this truth. The great statues of historical significance in the Middle East were destroyed. It was a profound loss for the world. Yet those who walk the path of awareness understand that even such loss is part of the nature of existence. Nothing, however magnificent, is beyond change. Even life itself.

I am learning now to to observe without clinging, to experience without grasping, to let life flow as it does, without demanding that it stay as I wish it would.

Even simple moments in everyday life echo this truth. Some weeks ago, my camera slipped from my hands and fell. It was a perfectly fine, functioning object until that very moment. Now it lies damaged, its usefulness altered in an instant. What seemed stable revealed its fragility without warning. I felt sad since it was a financial loss and it meant having to buy a new one which meant another unexpected expense, but then this is what impermanence is all about.

And then there are the trees, silent teachers of patience and impermanence. A few days ago, a sudden downpour arrived. One of my mulberry trees already heavy with fruit and dense foliage could not bear the added weight. It fell. The trunk split at its base, and there was no bringing it back. We usually prune the branches before the rains, but this time the unexpected rains acted as a medium and once again reminded me of impermanence. In its place, I have planted a new sapling. Life continues by renewing itself.

Everything is temporary. Today I feel energetic and strong. After a few decades, that may not be the case. This too will change, as all things do. And so the only prayer that arises is a simple one – To remain mobile and not be dependent on anyone, to remain aware with my brain working properly, to remain present while life flows through this body. And when the time comes, to ease away gently, as a ripened cucumber is easily severed from its stem. Human life is like a dewdrop on the blade of grass, which quickly evaporates with the morning sun. 

In understanding impermanence, there is no despair. There is clarity about how things move in life. And in that clarity, there is an enduring peace.

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