Impermanence (Anicca): Changing how you cope with change

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You may not be a bookworm but life is all about 'bookends,' as experiences and life conditions begin, alter and then, end. 

Change. Impermanence. Count on it. 

During the past few months, I have meditated on the concept that nothing stays the same; it has almost morphed into a daily game to see something become useless or end, and something new appear. Sure enough-- not a day goes by without newness.

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My path of study was accelerated by reading living this life fully: stories and teachings of Munindra. Anagarika Munindra (1915–2003) was a Bengali Buddhist master, scholar, and compelling teacher of the ancient Vipassana meditation technique. All world philosophies address change and, in Buddhist thought, the absence of permanence is known as anicca - one of the 'three basic facts of existence.'

Humans are born 'hard-wired' to create routines and seek comfort over discomfort. Once effective patterns for survival are met, we expand our search for pleasures, achievements, relationships. The 'expansion' phase is uplifting, often including our deepest relationships, and enduring life satisfactions. But, as Munindra taught: "Sooner or later, everyone has to be separated from all dear ones. For this we have to be ready always. This is the law of nature." 

Living life fully, under any condition

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The reality of Impermanence is not a warning to live cautiously. Instead, I am called to heighten my awareness of each moment. A young Foothill "littleleaf" Palo Verde reminded me to engage every cell toward life. The tree's chlorophyll glows a brilliant green from bark to spine-tipped branches, surging with life, in harmony with arid desert conditions.

In Buddhist thought, there are eight unavoidable worldly conditions known as Astha Loka Dharma. Read this 'bookends' list of expansions and contractions, and tell me if you put checkmarks by each, as I did:

• praise and blame

• gain and loss

• honor and disrepute

• happiness and misery

Calming the fevers of grief 

Grief can arise with any significant change. There is no easy path to ease the suffering other than eventual acceptance and even-mindedness. Often called equanimity or upekkha in Buddhist teaching, this neutral feeling may seem unnatural in Western culture. The swan dive from joy to misery, from life to death can easily cause a surge of adrenaline, intense emotions and some form of suffering. But the more you can seek out calming practices, the more balance of mind is restored.

• Be aware: when you feel an emotional surge, instead of flipping out, flip a switch to become aware that you have choices.
• Focus: take a breath, state a key word or phrase that reminds you to choose even-mindedness. My mantra is Let it be.
• Time out: it's time for a meditation. 
• There are apps that you can use to meditate 'discreetly and briefly' at your work (no matter what work you do!) like Headspace or Buddhify. 
• If you don't have a go-to practice, begin with a guided meditation; it will guide your focus away from the painful emotional surge. Think of it as a lifeline: just hang on. 
• Guided practice doesn't have to be complicated; I highly recommend a Metta meditation (click on the link) described by the Metta Institute as 'recit[ing] specific words and phrases evoking a "boundless warm-hearted feeling."'  This is called a loving-kindness meditation and truly imparts that embrace. Breathe and speak (or think) the words slowly and sink into the intention; I have used this through tears, stroking my own hand or cheek, or holding a precious memento:

 May I be happy. May I be well. May I be safe. May I be peaceful and at ease.

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• Walking in nature is also a soothing practice. Note your sensations and surroundings- like the air current on your skin, a wispy cloud, a wildflower, a bird call, butterfly or busy ant hill.

• Turn to other calming practices such as crafting, arts, music, or journaling but avoid drugs or alcohol during this spike.

When life's journey brings you to an ending, don't lose hope. Instead, consider these new approaches to 'the next new thing;' a bright surprise awaits!

Thank you for caring!

Follow these links to read more on these themes:

The 4 Immeasurables for condolence to a Buddhist friend
Compassion and Condolence: finding the words to walk together
Listen! A gift received, a gift given
The physics of intuitive compassion: Albert Einstein had it right!
Responding to tragedy: a million pieces of grief

Freddie the Cat: A Story of Creating Your Way through Grief

The Growing Through Grief series

Using Grief as a Creative Prompt

It takes courage to turn to one's art during the early days of grief and yet, it is a deeply special way to process the pain, drama, and shock of loss. Whether your creative outlet is paint, pen, or another form, it is a voice and its expression has value. Countless memoirs are sparked by death; who hasn’t read Marley & Me or Tuesdays with Morrie ?
Russian landscape artist Maxim Vorobyov, painted ‘Oak Fractured by Lightning’ (1842) to express the shock and pain of his wife’s death. 

'Oak Fractured by Lightning', Maxim Vorobyov

I gained this perspective after pet loss, but doubled-down on the challenge by drafting my mother’s obituary, and months later, posting My Turn to Grieve. In my post Condolence to Teens, I suggested giving the grieving girl or boy a journal because like an iceberg, ‘what’s on the surface is a fraction of what’s important to a teenager.’ The subtle suggestion to write or rant becomes a pathway to personal discovery and healing.

This month, my writing friend, Kat, shared her beautiful tribute to Freddie. The health decline of a pet can be a slow, subtle thing, the cues of which accumulate in owners' observations of body and behavior. Still, the time-to-let-go always arrives like a bolt of lightning! I thanked Kat for setting her pen to the pain and she replied: 

“Deborah, I did not want to write his story and had to force myself to do so.  But once I started I began to feel much better.”

FREDDIE

By Kat Hakanson  July 17, 2020 

Freddie, Fireplace Cat
Used with permission, Kat Hakanson

Our cat Freddie died this week.  He was 16 and leaves behind the heartbroken humans that he graciously shared his life with.  There is a big empty space left behind.

Freddie came to us in March of 2004.  We had lost our dear cat, Mr. Peach, the day after Christmas in 2003.  Mourning his loss, we found a breeder of Cornish Rex in Goodyear, AZ and, as luck would have it, she had a male cat born the past November who needed a forever home.

Living in Colorado at the time, we made the trip down to Arizona that March to pick up our newest family member. He was a beautiful orange tabby with an incredibly thick marcel wave. He was our fifth Cornish Rex.  Someone once told me that Rex cats look like corduroy, an apt description.  We called him Freddie, but his actual given name was Mister Rogers of Stonebridge in honor of the famed establisher of the children’s TV series who had always been a favorite of our entire family. We returned to Colorado and Freddie met his fellow resident cat, Norman, who was a meek and gentle little guy. It did not take Freddie long to rule and dominate our household and Norman too. Sweet Norman loved him just the same. 

Being 4 months old when we brought him home, he was really still a kitten. He was robust and active, could leap up to the highest furniture tops and we marveled at his athletic ability. His feet were huge and that gave us an indication of what a big boy he would grow to be. Sometimes when he was jumping, he would leap sideways. In his teething stage, he chewed a few holes in the bottom of my brand-new wooden blinds. It still makes me smile when I think of it, but I was horrified at the time! Years later, when the moving day came to leave Colorado, I noticed the chew marks on that bottom shade board and wondered what the new owners would think of them.

Window Cats
Used with permission, Kat Hakanson

He loved to watch birds from big windows and the window seat. None of our cats were ever allowed outside so our screened porch became his special place to enjoy the outdoors. Lap time was a favored activity and in his later years he would be extremely put out if there was not a lap available when he desired one. A sunny window was his best friend and he would move throughout the house all day long just looking for that best sun spot. He allowed his humans to share his king size bed. Freddie was a talker and had a lot to say. At times it felt as if he were lecturing us. There was always a greeting when we would come home. Almost until the day he died, he enjoyed playing with his toys in kitten like fashion.

Freddie & Ginger, Cuddle Cats
Used with permission, Kat Hakanson

Norman died in 2009 and we then welcomed a tiny female cat to our family.  She was Rex number six.  We named her Ginger (Fred and Ginger)!

She was a feisty little girl and Freddie could not really dominate her as he did Norman. Life in our household became more interesting. Games and chasing became everyday behavior. 

When he was 15, we noticed he was getting very thin. He had lost two pounds since his last checkup one year prior. The Vet did bloodwork but everything looked fine. He was still eating, was active and always into mischief.

With the pandemic, his next yearly visit was delayed.  There were problems with using the litter pan now. When he saw the Vet last week, he had dropped to 6.5 pounds as compared to the healthy 11 pounds he weighed when in his prime. He never ate again after that last Vet visit and we could see him failing quickly every day. Suddenly, he now appeared to be in pain and we knew it was time to let him go. Lymphoma and kidney failure were suspected. We were shocked at his final, rapid decline. It was with overwhelming sadness when we said goodbye. We will miss him forever. ###

Mother's Memorial Morning Sky
D. Chappa

Grief work that works

The story of 'Mister Rogers of Stonebridge' is now a family treasure. If you are grieving, turn to your art. Don’t worry about an audience--more than ever, this art is for you! If you are a friend to a grieving person, consider creating your own artistic tribute, or offer a gift such as a journal or art supplies, or plant a creative prompt with the question:

How would your feelings show up through…

your camera...your pen...your paintbrush...your guitar?

Thank you for caring!