Impermanence
“In
Buddhism, we have learned that everything is impermanent, which means that
everything can change…Therefore if we have a new energy, a new insight, a new
faith, we are able to open a new stage in the life of our body and our mind.”
Thich
Nhat Hanh (The Energy of Prayer, p.24-25, Parallax Press, 2006)
Thich Nhat
Hanh is a big believer in prayer. He is now 92 and had a stroke that left him
unable to talk, but he still has great energy and spiritual insight. His mind
is sharp and strong. He has returned to his original monastery in Vietnam to
live out the rest of his days.
In the
quote above from The Energy of Prayer, he spoke about impermanence as a
condition that invites change. It reminded me of a conversation between Amelia
Shepherd and Zola on last night’s Gray’s Anatomy. Zola is writing a
paper and asks Amelia if she had a way of granting eternal life, would she want
to use it. Amelia responds that she likes the idea of impermanence, because knowing
we are impermanent, that life has an end, makes us more aware of how we live each
day. This is paraphrased, of course, and is commentary around the fact that
Zola’s father Derrick died in a car crash, and her mother, Meredith, is on a
ventilator. Zola very much wants her mother to live forever as do we all with
the people we love.
Impermanence
is a part of life—all life on earth. Nothing lasts forever and in terms of our
inner life, we can choose what we keep alive and what we don’t. We can, for
example, hold on to childhood trauma and live through its lens for our entire
lifetime, or we can choose not to. Of course, that requires us to know how that
trauma affects us and controls our behavior, and how much we want to be free of
it. Sometimes we are so identified with our trauma that giving it up is like
losing a family member. And sometimes, we are unconscious of how our behavior
is related to it—we just assume that’s how we are. But all things are
impermanent, and that too can be changed.
What we
choose to keep alive can be a drain or a blessing. For instance, I relate especially
to a grandmother—Mama Richardson—who died when I was 23. I remember her as earthy
and plain spoken, unafraid to say what she thought and under no illusions that
life owed her anything. She did not expect to have an easy road, she expected
to make her way rather than having help or having it done for her. There was a
joy within her, just an acceptance of life on its own terms, that whatever
happened was okay. Even though she died when I was young, she had a profound
effect on me and how I live my life.
We can choose
to hold our blessings tight, and often, we find that the traumas that live side
by side with them are drained of energy because of those blessings. I know Mama
made up for a lot of bad stuff in my life—I choose to hold her memory close and
because she is within me, I can let the other stuff go. I can bless it and send
it on its way. So can you.
Impermanence is part life
for a reason. It makes way for change, for new insights, and for reimagining
life with new freedom and energy. Like Zola, I like that word, impermanence.
In
the Spirit,
Jane
No comments:
Post a Comment