autotelic, autistic, assonance-hole©.

Impermanence again, as usual

The Buddhists say that among the core problems the human mind has during life, chief is an illogical, irrational, and insistent conviction that it is possible to have permanence as more than a fleeting delusion… usually self-selected.

They say it much more nicely, because they ‘re trying to help others keep their egos asleep long enough for their minds to wake up.

After so many years of effort and practice, I find myself only slightly further along a clearly insufficient trajectory of divestiture therefrom.

I miss everyone I ever knew. All the time. And it hurts. I still have the memories and the remnant of chemistry that I knew as ‘fleeting communion’ with other minds, other beings.

Some I birthed, others, I married. Most I merely encountered along the way, for bad, good, or indifferent or I suppose billions of other perspectives I can’t label so easily.

But for me, regardless time, distance, communication or silence, merry parting or acrimonious one, I miss them. I still care and I still miss them. Every day.

It never occurred to me that I shouldn’t miss people at all. Not until acquainting myself with the concept of impermanence; even then, the trench of ‘never had’ stymies even impermanence at breaking the lock of sadness and the sense of bereft solitude that are the placard at my table seat in this life.

I tried moving tables. Doesn’t really work when the issue rests within. I am not willing to say that lacking meant nothing; yeah, ego. Big surprise. Not. But if surviving everything that has happened doesn’t matter, how could it possibly be that I do?

The guru chuckles and asks that I ponder why I need to matter so much to others when I don’t even matter to myself.

But I have the counter now, and impermanence gave it to me. What an irony that is for all of us.

I do not need to matter, I need to live. In order to live, I need to matter to at least one human other than myself because I cannot care for myself anymore.

So you see, my ego is skewered on that reality even as I throw the concept in the monk’s teeth. No pleasure in it, really… it just is.

Once upon a time, I was proud of having survived so much. Lately, I wonder why. It doesn’t seem to have mattered to anyone but me and reality is, I matter very little to much of anyone at all.

To one person, literally. Two, if I finally count myself.

Impermanence means even this will change. But only when I’m gone. This too, shall pass. **dry chuckle**