Impermanence

I’ve long had an argument with impermanence. Ridiculous, I know, but it has seemed so cold. Not warm, inviting, nurturing. In the last few years, I’ve been trying to make friends with this unfathomable-to-the-mind notion. Is it really true that the coming and going of beings, things, life is unfriendly and cold?

For thousands of years, the human mind has been trying to sort out truth. Dear thing. How noble are its efforts, and how delightful its creativity, including its ability to help put these words into the minds of others. But in the end, the mind knows that the truth isn’t knowable through the narrow conveyance of mind. This thinking in me wants to rest from its impossible endeavor to know impermanence.

For a while, I’ve had a sense of something right behind me. Like a Great Mother. As if to say, just let your whole being fall into my arms. Just fall into vastness, impermanence, flow, the great Tao, God, and all the other words that point to what cannot be said.

In a recent conversation with Sharon, she spoke of the possibility that the cats, as a group, had come to serve in my liberation from concepts. And that, when they perceive their task is done, they might disappear as easily as they appeared. This thought isn’t new to me. I’ve wondered if they were here for just a short while. Some have left through death of form, some have disappeared and we don’t know if they are living in other neighborhoods or truly gone from the planet. And, when I find myself moving in the next year, it’s not clear if any will want to go with me.

Of course, we are all intrigued with the vision of a barn, but it is a dream that may or may not realize itself. In the meantime, my studio serves as a barn, as does the storage that has become a kitty casita. What my life will look like a year from now is a total mystery to me, and who of the cats will be with me in form is equally unclear. That they will always be with me in my heart is without doubt.

Nor do I think they showed up just for me. I suspect the pure intelligence of animals is much bigger than the focus of one person, one place, one idea. After all, I simply have the pleasure of beings who came into this world because my neighbors fed their mamas and papas. But the heart knows their presence, their comings and goings, has been the stimulant for profound letting go of grievances I’ve carried most of my life.

Another of these beautiful beings, one of the Motorcycle Gang, seems to have departed. No one has seen Kawasaki San for several weeks. He wasn’t one to get close, but he came now and then to peer from the fence and to eat the food I offer. He hung out with Beemer and Harley and Vespa. I think he had an adventuresome spirit that took him on some small walkabouts. Like Whiskas, he seems to have disappeared without drama.

Sharon wisely suggests resting in the perfection of the moment. When I do, impermanence seems friendlier. The past and the future are seen for what they are, simply concepts that have no inherent truth in them. They are of the dream world. I still don’t get impermanence, I still deeply mourn the passing of people, animals, habitats. But it is beginning to feel a little warmer. And I note I feel happier when my attention is on what is happening right now. Worry takes a holiday, grieving comes and goes with ease. I find myself reflecting on the past with gratitude instead of longing or resistance.

Kawasaki San was here, a bright and sometimes funny presence, and now he’s not. But really, he is. Just differently. I hope he had a good time. Like with all of them, I hope they know, deep in their fine cat hearts, how beloved they are.

Once again, I offer full prostrations of thanks and prayers for his well-being.