IMPERMANENCE

There is one subject I ran away from for a long time: death. Not so much my own. But the thought of losing someone I love.

Every serious illness. Every farewell. Every funeral reminded me how fragile life really is. And it was precisely that fragility that frightened me.

When I Could No Longer Run Away

In my family, death was rarely talked about. In the world around me, it was usually something people tried to move on from as quickly as possible. Maybe I had questions. Maybe I had fears. But I learned to keep them to myself.

I still remember a family gathering when my mother suddenly spoke about her own death for the first time. She told us that she wanted to reserve a tree for herself and my father in a natural burial forest. At the time, they were both healthy.

I felt uncomfortable. All I wanted was to change the subject. As if silence could somehow keep death out of our lives.

A few years later, I found myself right in the middle of this very topic. My husband had to undergo open-heart surgery. I was terrified and had no idea how to deal with it.

A few days before the operation, he wanted to have a serious conversation with me. He told me that if something went wrong, he would not want to live as someone completely dependent on care.

I had a panic attack.

Thankfully, many of the stories my mind created back then never became reality. For that, I am deeply grateful. But that period also taught me something important: my mind often made my fear even bigger instead of helping me.

I realized I needed to find another way.

During that search, I encountered many different spiritual teachers. And although their traditions were very different, they all seemed to arrive at the same insight:

Impermanence is not a flaw of life. It is its nature.

At first, that idea confused me. I had always experienced change as something that took something away from me.

Today, I see it differently. Our bodies change. Our thoughts. Our relationships. Our emotions. Every breath begins - and ends again.

For a long time, I wanted to hold on to so many things. Health. Closeness. Success. Security. Youth. The feeling that everything should stay exactly as it is.

Today, I am slowly beginning to understand that holding on often creates more suffering than change itself. Because we believe life should follow our expectations instead of accepting it as it is.

What Ends Becomes Precious

I notice this in everyday life as well. A beautiful evening comes to an end. A vacation is over. People change. Friendships change.

Years ago, that would have made me sad. Today, I find myself more and more able to see not the loss first, but the gratitude that I was able to experience that moment at all. Perhaps it is precisely its impermanence that makes it so precious.

If a sunset lasted forever, we would probably stop looking at it. It is because conversations end. Because children grow up. Because we ourselves grow older. That these moments carry such profound meaning.

Pain Doesn't Last Forever Either

There was a time when I believed certain pain would never leave.

Today I know that emotions are impermanent too. Fear changes. Grief changes. Anger changes. Some emotions stay for a long time. But none stay forever.

That thought does not take the pain away. But it gives me hope.

Over time, something else became clear to me. Impermanence is not only about endings. It is what creates space for something new. Without impermanence, there would be no spring. No healing. No reconciliation. No learning. No new beginning.

Perhaps that is its greatest gift: it also gives me the freedom to change. I used to cling to roles, expectations, and certainty. Today, I try to let some of them go. Not all at once. But little by little.

Because for something new to emerge, something old sometimes has to leave. Just as autumn gives way to winter, and winter quietly prepares the way for spring.

A Quiet Teacher

When I think about impermanence today, I no longer feel only fear. I see a quiet teacher. One that reminds me I cannot truly possess anything. That control is limited. That every moment is unique.

At some point, I read about the most common regrets people have at the end of their lives. They were not about earning too little money. Not about driving the wrong car. Not about missing career opportunities. They were about not truly living.
About dreams that were never pursued because of fear.
About feelings that were never expressed.
About relationships that did not receive enough time.

These reflections touched me deeply. Because I don't believe I will regret not having fulfilled enough obligations at the end of my life. I will more likely regret not having been braver. Not having followed my heart more often. In the end, perhaps life is not about collecting as many experiences as possible. It is about experiencing the moments we are given with awareness. I don't know when I will die. But I can choose how I live today.

Death is not an easy subject. Yet I wish we could talk about it more often without immediately freezing in fear. Perhaps then we would not only understand death a little better - but life as well.

Impermanence reminds us not only to live more consciously, but also more lovingly. It reminds us that we are all vulnerable. That every person we meet loves, hopes, fails, grows older, and will one day have to say goodbye.

When we truly take that to heart, it becomes harder to judge - and easier to meet one another with compassion.

Then we no longer see the flaw first. We see the human being. A human being who - just like us - is living this one, impermanent life.

And that is exactly what makes every encounter so precious.

LUMA – It begins in you.

Mini Exercise
Think of someone who is important to you today.
For just one moment, meet them as if this encounter were not something to take for granted.
It may change more than you think.

Reflection Question
Where in your life are you holding on more than you are truly living?