Impermanence: Life is Like Holding Water in Our Hands

My kids take forever in the shower. Despite a very clearly communicated 10-minute shower limit, my wife and I often bang on the door around the 20-minute mark and yell, “TIME’S UP, TURN OFF THE WATER!”

I don’t know if it's genetic or if it's a behavior common to all older kids. But I can’t be too upset because when I was their age, I used to take really long showers, too. As the bathroom door opens, the initial cloud of steam exits, and the thoroughly bathed culprit walks out, my wife asks, “What were you doing in the shower for that long?”

Typically, I answer on the child’s behalf with, ‘nothing, standing there.’ To which the guilty child nods their head in agreement and carries on with the rest of their day.

After the latest long shower incident, I found myself reflecting on what I actually did in the shower as a kid. What came to mind was a game where I cupped my hand to catch as much water as possible. When my hand was full, I would close it to see if I could hold on to the water.

Whether I closed my hand slowly or fast, I could never hold on to the water. I realized that trying to hold water is a helpful metaphor for the impermanence of life.

As I’ve been studying Zen Buddhism, I keep returning to how overwhelming and comforting impermanence, one of the ”Three Marks of Existence,” can be. In case you are unfamiliar with the three marks, here is a list:

1. Impermanence
2. Non-self
3. Nirvana*

How Impermanence in Life Overwhelms

Across human history, there have been two realities that often overwhelm and, at times, even terrify us. The first is that we can’t control time, and the second is that we will all eventually die.

Within Christianity, both of these realities aren’t directly addressed; rather, their weight is shifted from ourselves to God. We recognize we can’t control time; what I have is all I get, and that’s scary.

But God controls time, and God is good, so you can relax because God ‘took the wheel.’

When it comes to death, Christianity offers, what I would argue is an ‘illusory promise.’ In a more crass expression, some might say it provides a ’false promise.’ What I mean by this is that for Christians (the same can be said of Jews and Muslims; I just come from a predominantly Christian background), we are told faith in Jesus guarantees us eternity in heaven.

In reality, this isn’t a guarantee or promise we can verify. What is being shared when we are told all Christians (or Jews, Muslims, etc.) who believe in God go to heaven is a faith statement, not a factual one.

My goal is not to argue the merit of heaven, hell, or even an afterlife. I want to point out how, as a Christian, I was taught to engage with these two realities.

What I have come to deeply respect about Buddhism is how it doesn’t shift the weight of these realities but faces them directly. Instead of worrying about who, if anyone, is in control of the limited time we have on this blue rock called Earth, Buddhism emphasizes being fully present and alive to experience each moment.

For example, being consumed by our screens has become so commonplace that my family and I have made a game out of calling out whenever we see someone consumed by their digital device in public. There’s a particular family restaurant where my family enjoys eating dinner. It’s a 90s (think Saved by the Bell) themed burger and pizza place that is beloved by locals.

As a family of six, we don’t get to eat there often because it is expensive. While we talked about how much everyone liked their meal and asked each other goofy questions, we noticed the family sitting to our left.

Throughout their entire meal, no one said a word. While the mom chomped on her salad with her right hand, her eyes were glued to the screen, infinitely scrolling in her left hand. Meanwhile, her son had his iPad on the table, Beats headphones over his ears, completely tuned out of where he was, and was immersed in YouTube.

Here’s my point. Even though that family was physically at the same restaurant as my family, they weren’t present. Not being present is akin to not having been there at all.

So often, we worry about choices we made in the past or what-if scenarios that haven’t happened in the future, and we completely lose the only moment in time we actually have, the present. Buddhism doesn’t just help us deal with the reality of time; it also directly addresses the reality of death.

How Impermanence in Life Comforts

I’ll turn 41 later this year. When I was a kid, I thought 40 was old.

Being in my 40s, I can attest that I am no longer a young man, but I’m not old either. The reality is, if things go as well as possible, I’m approximately halfway done with the time I have left on earth. The truth is, there’s much in my past that I regret, trauma I’ve experienced, and decisions that I wish I could change.

Here’s the thing: the suffering I experienced in the first half of my life has shaped me into the person I am in the second half of my life. Yes, bad things happened to me, my family, my community, and our world over the last 40 years. But the majority of those bad things aren’t happening anymore.

That’s the comfort of impermanence. Yes, things will always change, and we all eventually pass away, but also, yes, things changing is really good and healthy.

Currently, 2000 federal agents have been deployed to Los Angeles to engage protestors standing against ICE's shameful behavior toward immigrants. Genocide continues in Ukraine and Palestine. My family has been sick for over a week with a stupid illness we keep passing to each other.

All of these things genuinely suck, but we can also learn from each of them, grow, and find strength in knowing they won’t stay this way. Time continues to tick, so it’s paramount that we are mindful to be fully present in every moment.

Death is inevitable, but we don’t have to hold on to the hope of heaven as the only way to work through this reality. Instead, we can embrace that change is good and healthy and empowers us to become the most compassionate, engaged, and mindful versions of ourselves. So when our time comes, we will have left our world better off than when we came into it.

*As a side note, my list of three marks comes from the understanding of Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh. Traditionally, nirvana is not a listed mark, and is replaced by suffering.