Photograph taken in Sri Lanka by me after an epic storm, 2012
Everything, from this web page, to the walls of the room you are in, from a distant star, to this planet that we live on; all have come into existence and all will eventually cease to exist, as we know them. However, for many, the concept of us as human beings, eventually ceasing to exist, is the most horrifying concept of all.
I have been contemplating impermanence, and have themed my classes around it in the last few weeks, evoked by a recent death in our family. Ally was my nephew Michael’s partner, and died very suddenly at only 44 years old. Such events in life always bring me back to the concept of impermanence.
Impermanence, in simple terms, means change.
Each hour of the day is different, each season is different and we are all different on each new day too, in every hour and minute of the day we ourselves undergo continual change. Our thoughts, emotions and physical sensations are wonderfully ephemeral, yet we forget. Everything around us is in a constant state of flux, the world is changing, the universe, everything we can perceive and conceive.
All is transitory, including… us.
I have often used this theme in my classes, it is an especially fitting theme for yin yoga. We hold the poses for time and remain still, usually, for around 3-8 minutes. This can be quite agonising for a busy mind, yet the more we do, the less agonising it becomes.
Yin is, to all intents and purposes, a form of mindfulness, looking at the moment just the way it is, and not as we would like it to be. Yin is, as my teacher Norman Blair says, “the gateway drug to meditation”. In the practice, as in mindfulness meditation, we simply observe and become a witness to whatever arises. This can be aided by understanding the nature of impermanence, using that understanding to watch as the sensations within the physically body, the breath, the thoughts and the emotions rise and pass away. It is a wonderful practice to develop and strengthen a sense of equanimity, and is a way of training the mind for life.
"Yin is the gateway drug to meditation" Norman Blair
We find it so difficult to sit with discomfort with no distractions, and have a tendency to believe we are our bodies, our thoughts and our emotions, yet we are not. We begin to maintain the belief that the discomfort, whether physical, mental or emotional distress will last for ever. We become consumed, slaves to our bodies, minds and feelings.
If, during a practice such as yin or mindful meditation, we can begin to understand the nature of impermanence, begin to sit with these temporary impressions, this training will certainly overspill into the rest of our lives and help with challenging situations. This has certainly been my experience time and time again. While I still experience the intense emotions, discomforts and challenges of life, I now have that fundamental understanding that all will change again.
“Contemplating impermanence on its own is not enough: You have to work with it in your life. Just as medical studies require both theory and practice, so does life; and in life the practical training is here, is now, in the laboratory of change. As changes occur we learn to look at them with a new understanding; and though they will still go on arising as they did before, something in us will be different. The whole situation will now be more relaxed, less intense and painful; even the impact of the changes we go through we will find less shocking. With each successive change, we realise a little bit more, and our view of living becomes deeper and more spacious.”
The practice that has taught me the most about the nature of impermanence has been Vipassana meditation. Vipassana means ‘to see things as they really are’. It is an intense practice, one I sometimes refer to as the ‘bootcamp of meditation’. The entry level, to learn the practice, is a 10 day silent retreat, meditating for 10 hours a day.
Vipassana: ‘to see things as they really are’
I undertook my first Vipassana in 2011, it was, to date, the most challenging thing I have ever willingly agreed to. Because, at the time I had no true understanding of impermanence. ‘Anicca’, which is the Pali word for impermanence, was repeatedly drummed into us.
The main teaching of Vipassana is 'impermanence', and the management of ‘craving an aversion’. I was craving my departure and I had a constant aversion to the whole process. Yet, 18 months later I was back to do my 2nd Vipassana. I even went on to do a 3rd and 4th. Those experiences taught me, more than anything else, what the nature of impermanence is. “Anicca…. Anicca… Anicca… “ As the teacher would say.
Vipassana is a meditation in which we remain still and become a witness to any thought, sensation, emotion that may arise without reacting, simply watching. Very challenging, I don’t advise undertaking such a challenge without a lot of consideration. Still, what a wonderful training for life.
Conversely, sometimes we crave for things to stay just as they are. This too can cause great suffering. As Thich Nhat Hanh says:
We can become attached to people, situations, material possessions even habits or thought patterns. Sometimes I imagine my whole house burning down, along with all of my possessions, and I do love my house and all of my bits and bobs. While it would be a complete pain in the arse, I actually believe, on some level, it would be so freeing at the same time.
A way to let go of attachment: when you get something, or even someone, you cherish, imagine it already gone or broken… you are letting go.
Imagining something broken gives you the freedom to enjoy it
Everything is coming into being, continually transforming and will eventually disappear from its current form, the energy then forming something completely different.
Nothing is certain, however, we can learn to live with this concept through the practice and through the teachings. The last big bereavement I had was my Dad, nine years ago this year. I understood at the time that the physical practice of yoga had given me the strength and foundation to come to terms with his illness and look after him. I was honoured and privileged to share his final moment of life, he was looking into my eyes, closed them and a single tear fell down his cheek, he was gone. It was a beautiful moment. However, soon after he had died, I started to fear my own death - ‘where has he gone?… where will I go?’
After he died, I turned to the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying which helped me immensely, particularly from that simple understanding that change is constant. Nothing stays the same but nothing truly dies either. Energy, or for those that belief in reincarnation, the soul, or atman is always transformed into something else.
On seeing the bloom of the daffodil flowers planted on my mothers grave helped me to see my mother in a different form, she had been buried in a bio degradable coffin and was placed within a woodland - each person had a tree planted with them. I was overcome with relief and joy at seeing her reborn into something so beautiful and radiant.
Another helpful idea was something I read in ‘Awareness’ by Anthony de Mello. It was 2001, it had a profound affect on me, at what was the most difficult period of my life. He talked about meditating on death as being a doorway to contentment:
“I’ve often said to people that the way to really live is to die, the passport to living is to imagine yourself in your grave. Imagine that you are lying in your coffin… imagine you’re lying flat and you’re dead. Now look at your problems from that viewpoint. Changes everything doesn’t it?
What a lovely. Lovely meditation. Do it everyday if you have the time. It’s unbelievable, but you will really come alive.”
Contemplating death, and particularly my own death, has helped me in so many ways; to accept that undeniable truth that I will die one day and as an aid to live my life well. I heard the phase recently on a Zen Buddhist podcast:
"To die well we need to live well"
You can listen to the full podcast on impermanence here.
And here is a short story about impermanence.
The practice of yoga, pranayama, meditation, and the study of the philosophical themes, have helped me come to terms with the vicissitudes of life, have helped me to accept the deaths of the people I have loved and, to hopefully, welcome my own death when it is time.
Nothing is forever, when we understand this fully, life becomes less challenging and more satisfying.
To close, let us reflect on a few words from the Buddha:
This existence of ours is as transient as autumn clouds.
To watch the birth and death of beings is like looking at the movements of a dance.
A lifetime is like a flash of lightening in the sky,
Rushing by, like a torrent down a steep mountain.
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