To have any sort of stability in our lives, we pretend so much is permanent. And on a moment-to-moment or daily basis, that continuity can certainly seem real.
For years at a time, depending on the season of life, things can seem to stay largely the same. We work the same job, live in the same home, surround ourselves with many of the same people. When things appear stable or consistent, it’s easy to think: this won’t change.
But we know, maybe subconsciously, this isn't true.
"Every thing looks permanent until its secret is known," writes Ralph Waldo Emerson in his essay "Circles."
Change underlies everything, operating beneath the surface in ways we more often than not don't see. By the time we notice it, it’s been in the works for much longer than we realize.
We can’t see the earliest buds of spring forming in the last stretch of winter; we breathe pollen swirling in the air after the process is well underway. The fall colors we enjoy in October begin with leaves turning at the end of August, and it's never clear when the whole thing begins or ends.
"There are no fixtures in nature," Emerson writes. "The universe is fluid and volatile. Permanence is but a word of degrees."
Day to day, we usually can’t see the impermanence in ourselves, our environments, or those around us. We see surfaces, Emerson says, but fail to grasp that "behind the coarse effect, is a fine cause, which, being narrowly seen, is itself the effect of a finer cause."
Impermanence, then, is constant, whether we see it or not. And if we don’t see it in something, perhaps all that’s needed is a change in perspective.
Zoom out far enough, and the "secret" of permanence begins to reveal itself. Over the course of a year, little may seem to change. Over the course of a decade, the illusion becomes harder to maintain.
And that can influence the way we think about the ordinary parts of life. To remember the impermanence of something is to retain its rarity, even when it seems monotonous or unimportance at a surface level.
If you’re the parent of a young child, as I am, the cycles of laundry, dirty dishes, meals, hectic school mornings, and bedtime routines can seem endlessly repetitive. Zoom out to recognize how fleeting this stage really is, however, and even the most repetitive routines begin to look different.
With the right perspective, there's a sparkling transience to them—an aliveness that isn't always apparent at our baseline perspective.
“Nothing is secure but life,” Emerson writes, “transition, the energizing spirit.”
Consider: What in your daily life seems permanent simply because it hasn't changed recently? If you recognize that it will change eventually, does that affect the way you think about it? What might feel repetitive or monotonous right now that you may one day wish to experience again? What underlying changes in your life may be at work that you can't see at the moment?