Lessons In Impermanence
Change is inevitable, sadness is optional
I broke my old favorite spoon recently. It had belonged to my mother, part of her old Pfalzgraft set of silverware. But instead of getting upset, I laughed it off. The laws of physics were still at work! Too much force applied to an object. And I was reminded that nothing lasts forever. It seems that the older I get, the more I am aware of this universal truth. It also helped that my wife had given me an engraved spoon not long ago, and now it became my new favorite.
I recently had vascular surgery to clean out one of my carotid arteries. The surgery lasted a bit over two hours, and as I went under the anesthesia I was all too aware that there was about a 3% chance I wouldn’t wake up again. But I did, and I was never so happy to open my eyes again later that day! I was in a good deal of pain for a couple of weeks, but it passed and I soon felt better. The pain wasn’t permanent, in other words.
So I don’t think impermanence is really a bad thing, or something to be sad about. On the contrary, it is a great reason to celebrate and savor each moment as it passes by. See a rainbow? Look quick, because it will be gone soon. And it doesn’t hurt if you can grab your camera and capture the moment in pixel form.
Benjamin Franklin is often quoted as saying “in this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes.” In modern times, the ultra-rich may escape the one, but definitely not the other! I’m quite sure death will come my way eventually. And I’ve been paying taxes since I was old enough to get my first job flipping burgers at age 16. I didn’t make a lot of money at that job, but it gave me pocket money. And of course, I went on to other jobs. So at least I wasn’t frying French fries forever.
I think flowers are also a good way to remember impermanence. I truly enjoy seeing daffodils in spring, since they are usually the first flowers to bloom around here. But of course, they don’t last long, and soon the petals have fallen to the ground and they are setting seed pods. That is the natural order of things, is it not? So I try and cherish them while they are blooming.
My wife and I enjoy traveling, and have seen a lot of sights during our time together. We especially enjoy a trip to Hawaii in winter, where we can get away from the cold weather back home and enjoy the sunny warmth and the sound of the ocean waves. It has become our custom to take a ‘last day’ photo of the two of us together. Lately it has me thinking “I hope this is not the last time we do this”. And that makes me enjoy the present moment all the more.
The last few years we have been posing with our backs to the camera, which I have setup on a tripod nearby. As we gaze out on the ocean, and enjoy the peaceful sound of the waves, the timer goes off and the shutter clicks. Soon we will board a plane and head back home. And usually, we start planning our next trip!
My dad was stationed on Oahu for the last few years of World War Two. He was part of the Quartermaster Corps that supplied troops, and thankfully did not see any combat action. You would think that would be an ideal place to spend the war, but he was not impressed with the Hawaiian weather one bit. He missed the seasons, the changing of the leaves and so on. Apparently 365 days of sun and surf was not to his liking. After my first visit to Hawaii, I decided he must be crazy!
But now, I have come to appreciate the changing seasons myself. Our summers here are hot and humid, but eventually give way to fall. Of course autumn will give way to winter’s cold at some point, but then spring will come. Spring seems to bring a sense of renewal, and of course the daffodils will bloom. The seasons don’t last, but that’s not a bad thing.
We’ve had a lot of rain here the last couple of months, historic levels in fact. Thankfully we’ve had no severe weather. But yesterday we had a thunderstorm that dumped 2 inches of rain in a short period of time, accompanied by half-inch sized hail. The hail did a number on things growing and blooming outside, including my wife’s beloved irises. They were looking quite lovely, and then BOOM came the thunder and hail.
But even as the iris blooms that were already open got beat up by the hail, there are still more buds waiting to open. And I have no doubt they will be lovely too, in their time. Such is life I think, and another lesson in impermanence.
Thanks for the timely reminder, Dave. Millard and I have had a spate of health issues over the past year or so, and I'm quite sure that they won't be the last. This is what it means to age, I think. I've stopped taking a lot of pictures, perferring instead to savor the moment and the image with my eyes and brain. To try to retain it for as long as possible. Life has been good to us--I try to celebrate it, with gratitude, every single day. Please keep writing.
This is lovely. Thanks, Lynda, for sharing it, and Dave for writing it. I love the idea of last day photos - a tradition my daughter started on the night before her children’s birthdays - but one I’ve never considered doing in every day life. Not as a morbid what-if, but as the last page of another great chapter.