This is probably the single most important concept to have helped me slow down and be present in my here and now, rather than continuously looking ahead and racing towards the future.
There is a poem by Maria Eugenia Baz Ferreira that speaks directly to impermanence, and it made a huge impression on me in my hugh school (university) years - then took on an entirely new meaning as I read it often while serving in the military. It's essentially a toast to the world- the first line is, " To all that is brief and fragile, superficial and unstable..." and concludes with, "I toast in breakable glasses...."
The "glasses" reminded me that glass is not actually a solid - it is an extremely thick, slow-moving liquid. Change naturally takes so long we do not observe it, yet glass is "solid" enough that it can shatter if handled improperly. I realized I take much for granted (solidity of glass) that is not actually a true reflection of how things are. Not only that, but the way I see things at any given time can be shattered unexpectedly and with no hint of warning.
Later, when I married, the old advice to "Never go to bed angry with your spouse" meant much more to me that many newlyweds, I observed. I recognized that I couldn't always follow through with that specific advice, but I could (and do) always ask myself if this is the last memory I want to leave this person with, or for me to have of them. It's okay to remain angry, but be at peace with it, understand why, and if possible, let it go - at least enough to part on good terms (even if only in your own mind/spirit/heart) so you have no regrets.
This is particularly true now in the time of COVID, as I heard that one of my favorite college (university) professors, whom I sat next to for hours on a plane traveling overseas for a philosophy and Classics month-long excursion, had passed away of COVID halfway across the country from where I presently reside. I had always figured I would see him again at a Homecoming event, or read something he had written in a newsletter or journal. But it was not to be. And while deeply saddened to hear of his passing, I was also content in that by then I had already began my awareness of impermanence and I was at peace with my last memory of our interaction, and fairly certain that my own general conduct and conversation would have been a positive last memory of me in his mind if he were ever to think of me.
So for me, not only is it a personal awareness of the present and the beautiful fragility of it all, but also a greater self-awareness of how I may be perceived. I cannot control other's thoughts, but I can do the best I can, to my own standards and satisfaction, to ensure my legacy in the memory of others is as representative of me as a being (and preferably positive in nature) as I can make it. All I can do is live with right thinking and right action (channeling my inner Epictetus and Aristotle here) as outlined by the Stoics of ancient Greece. In doing so, I have found I can not only an fir the future with a clearer mind, but be more fully present and appreciative of the here and now, which includes my interactions with others.
I may leave this world at any given time, or never return to this place after this moment. The same is true for them. So I attempt to drink in every vibrant color, every brilliant shade of Iight and shadow, savor the robust and delicate tastes and odors wafting by in infinite combinations, revel in the sublime touch of sunlight and breeze on my skin, and listen not only with the ears but also with the heart to the chorus of life and existence taking part in the spiral dance and cycle of life all around me.
It is breathtaking in its awesome vastness and complex intimacy all at once. Over time, I gradually returned to my own poetry writing and photography to help others see the world as I do, or some approximation of it, at least. If they are ready for that, I am present with them. If they are not, perhaps my words and images may strike a deep resonant chord somewhere within them that will gradually swell to become heightened awareness of their own. I can show them the path, but I cannot walk it for them, and my own path is unique to me as well, unable to be precisely duplicated by anyone else in all of time and space. As the saying goes, you can only step into a river once. The next time you do, it will not be the same river, for the water is different, the riverbed may be different, and you yourself are different.
Our souls may be eternal, and we may reincarnate or we may not. This is an uncertain thing. For me, I am certain now only of my present moment, each one of them, and though I make plans for the future, I have learned how to maintain a certain amount of detachment (enhanced greatly by my meditation practices) so that my future plans do not consume all of my present energy and thoughts.
Impermanence is, in my life, one of the most powerful and life-altering realizations, and probably the one which has led to the greatest sense of peace and tranquility overall.
Thank you for sharing your observations. I too often ask myself that "what if this is the last time" question. Far from being morbid or depressing, I find it empowering and an opportunity to evaluate my own way of being in this world, both for myself and in my relationships with others and the planet as a whole.
Again, thank you for sharing with us here. I see you and the light within you. Be well. 🤲🏻❤🤲🏻
