Change is constant. Nothing, absolutely nothing, lasts forever. This is something I have really become familiar with in this life, and yet, every time something ends, I am struck – yet again! – with surprise and grief and wondering. How could I have made it last? What failure on my part led to this end? Or, worse, WHO is to blame for this? Blaming others simply leads me to feel like I am a helpless victim to circumstance, and blaming myself, well, this hardens my ego into the belief that somehow I actually have control over this immutable fact of life: things change.
The Buddha taught that there are three marks of all existence – annica, dukkha, and annata. Anatta, or “no self”, can also be understood as “no separate self”. Thich Nhat Hanh used to say we “inter-are”, and call it “interbeing”. There is no solid and unchanging “me”, rather, the “me” I know is more like a river. We understand that there
is a river, it is a concept we can use to understand and communicate the concept, but the river, like ourselves, is constantly changing. Placing a hand in the river at this moment will touch an entirely different collection of parts from those we may have touched a few minutes ago. The river depends upon all of the things in and around it, the sky, the weather, the factories and farmers nearby, the migrating birds overhead…you name it. And so do we. “No man is an island” is another way to see this reality, that we exist in the way we are because all of the causes and conditions in the entire world of our lifetime, as well as lifetimes before it. It really is a beautiful realization, that we are all one living, breathing being. Sub ek, “all one” was another way I have heard this spoken by those far wiser than this me. I also like to term this as “nothing is personal”.
Dukkha, which is most times translated as “suffering” or “unsatisfactoriness” is the idea that human life has in it, an inherent component of “not enoughness”. It can be HUGE, like war or famine, or it can be miniscule, as in these eggs I ordered aren’t cooked enough. Check it out
for yourself. For me, it can feel sometimes like I am constantly leaning into the next moment, rushing to get the thing in front of me done/gone/fixed so I can finally be _____(insert your own desire here). We get what we want, and it inevitably ends, or we don’t get things just the way we want, or even get things we don’t want at all. In summary “nothing is perfect”.
And finally, annica, or the fact of impermance. All things arise, exist for a time, and pass away. They come from nothing, exist for a time, and return to nothing. This fact alone was perhaps the brightest lantern for me in my own practice. Everything, and I mean everything. Buildings, people, this body, even these thoughts. Everything. Realizing this one fact helps me when I am caught in believing difficult story lines I have woven around situations or people. The people, the situations, the stories and the beliefs are all impermanent. They will end. 12 Step programs use a slogan “this, too, shall pass”, and I like to simplify it even further to “nothing is permanent”.
Nothing is personal, perfect or permanent. Pretty pithy line to summarize this life, huh?
I use it all the time. It helps me to remove my recurring belief that I am a victim, or that somehow I failed, or that I am somehow deserving of less. This seems to cover them all. Not that it was easy to really believe these three facts, or marks of existence, but that is where my meditation practice has been the support. Slowing down to watch the mind, sitting in mediation, concentrating the attention, all of these practices have, in time opened these indisputable truths to my heart. I can get caught, most certainly, when things change in my life. Especially the things I desire so badly. When they change, or end, I feel as if I will be annihilated, and in a way, “I” am. At least the “me” who existed with those things in my life is no more. That “me” is made new, like after a storm floods the river to overflowing and muddies the appearance of the water. But in time, that mud, that change settles, and the river of “me” exists like that for a time.
Until the next storm. Which will come.
So, the lesson is to enjoy the moment, be truly present with it as much as I can. Try to live “impeccably” in word and deed. FLOW with the Universe. Then I can see the changing, imperfect and interrelated form of life as beautiful and intricate, and find gratitude that I, like all things, exist and belong for this time. And like all things, will change.
