Thursday, May 01, 2008

Everything Changes

The essence of Buddhism can be summarized in two words: Everything changes. This is the basis of the Buddha's Four Noble Truths. Nothing that you can point to or hold is permanent. Point to any object you see: it is not lasting. Hold onto any object (person or thing): it is not lasting. And because of the fact that everything changes -- everything is impermanent -- suffering follows. Our minds think of things as lasting, and we suffer when they change.

Some things change in the blink of an eye: You work hard all your life, save money, correct mistakes, plan for the future -- but in an instant your life is changed by a heart attack, a stroke, a sudden diagnosis of stage four cancer. Or your loved one dies. Or your lover abandons you for someone else. Or you lose all your material possessions. Everything can change over night. Other things change dramatically over time. Your once-youthful body deteriorates into old age.

We call changable things "conditioned," or "composited." They exist because of conditions. We like to think that love itself is unconditional, but we find over and over again that people fall out of love. People can even disown their children. Best friends fall into disfavor. Cherished colleagues drift apart.

New cars and houses become old and need repair or replacement. Even a house of solid stone and steel is composited. The tiny particles in the stones and steel are subject to weathering. They break down. The highest mountains will break down too over the course of time.

So far all of this has been stated in a rather negative light: change brings suffering. But so does suffering bring change! Our pain leads us to look deeper. To have discipline. To focus and to work toward something beyond the conditioned, composited world. Because everything changes, our mental processes can change too. Our understanding can change. Our expectations can change. This is the path of liberation, of seeing things as they really are. Connecting with the unchangable within you that lies deeper even than your mental processes.

We don't need a lover, a room of friends, a new car, a gorgeous house, piles of cash, praise at work, stature in our community. All of these things come and go. (We mostly feel that they go, because it is hard to let go of something that feels good.) We only hold them or point to them for a short time.

Standing on the shore, we can see the ebb and flow of the water. But the ocean remains. If we take our vision off the shoreline of our life, the depth of our being remains unchanged by ebbs and flows, gain and loss. That's what Buddhist contemplation means; what meditation is: looking deeply into your ocean.