Sometimes the impermanence of life is unbearable.
As I tend to do, I woke up in the indigo-blue darkness of the night. Unable to return quickly to slumber, I reach for my laptop. It’s an ideal time to write myself back to sleep.
There are the words staring back at me: “Tomorrow is dad’s 23rd anniversary”, my brother had written. 'Tomorrow' for my brother is 'today', right now, for me. I need to be outside, so here I am, staring at my keyboard, staring at my blank screen. I finally reply, “sometimes the impermanence of life is unbearable.”
I just kept staring at them; his five words and my seven words. The story woven inside those twelve words… overwhelms me in this moment.
It’s cold outside. I should have a winter pareo on, but I don’t because there is no such thing. The silence of the darkness soothes me while at the same time makes the empty space seem bigger.
I had just flashed on Santo earlier yesterday afternoon while organizing my camping gear— as he would do in the garage in preparation for an upcoming adventure. Later in the afternoon, I was servicing my bicycle, in preparation of my own upcoming adventure, and I encountered a problem with some of the components. I felt defeat was near and that I was going to have to go take it to someone to fix, but I thought about Santo and his powers of critical thinking, so I pressed on. In the end, I figured it out, and that feeling of elation I had from solving a problem…I have seen that expression on his face so many times in my life and the twinkle in his eye.
Clouds are drifting westward from the east; I welcome the shifting air. The world is moving around while I lay back in my stillness.
Impermanence stings in this moment, but these exact moments remind me that what he taught me is permanent.
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