True story: A friend of mine had regular sessions with her beloved therapist for years. Recently, she had a session with him on a Thursday morning, as always. The next day, she received notice that he had died of massive heart attack Thursday evening.
Needless to say, she is grief-stricken by his unexpected death and sudden disappearance.
We expect things to continue. We expect people to stay. We expect our routines to unfold on schedule. We expect permanence. And then the ground shifts, just like that. Here today. Gone tomorrow.
In Silent Meditation
I experienced impermanence in a quieter way at a week-long silent meditation retreat in August.
The daily rhythm went like this: sit and meditate, walk and meditate, sit and meditate, walk and meditate. Break for lunch. Then… repeat.
By Day Four, my back muscles were moaning. My mind was railing: What was I thinking? How idiotic was I to sign up for this – yet again? (I wrote about last year’s silent meditation retreat here.)
And then Day Five came. Bliss. My body felt light as air, my mind soft, my soul deeply grateful. Day Five was one of the longest, richest meditations of my life.
Days Six and Seven were awesome, too. Then the retreat was over.
The bad is impermanent. The good is impermanent too.
Planning to Die?
A 2025 Wills & Estate Planning Study found that 76% of Americans don’t have wills. It seems most of us expect to be here on earth permanently.
True story: Reynaldo, my neighbor across the hall, was on his deathbed at 92 with no will or living heirs. We – neighbors and local lawyers – scrambled in his last moments to find out what he wanted us to do with his apartment, his belongings, his financial assets.
When it comes to end-of-life matters, some procrastinate, others think their net worth is negligible, and still others don’t want to face what’s undeniable: we ourselves are impermanent.
The ancients seemed more accepting.
Buddhism puts it simply in what are called the Five Remembrances. Paraphrased, they say: We will grow old. We will have ill-health. We will die. And everything and everyone we love will change.
God, that’s sobering.
Planning to Live?
But the fifth Buddhist Remembrance offers hope: My actions — of body, speech, and mind — are my continuation.
In other words, we leave our mark by how we live.
Once we stop pretending that things – good or bad – will last forever, we can finally be here. We can pay attention.
This Moment Counts
If nothing stays the same, then this moment is precious. Whoops — it already vanished.
So how do we meet the moment? Wishing it were different? Wishing it would last?
Perhaps with a breath, a pause, and a quiet thank you.
And yes, maybe with a will in the file too.
