Impermanence

October 16, 2025
 Near Edgewood High School

 As autumn settles in, I again reflect about the truth of impermanence. In Buddhism, impermanence is a fundamental teaching that all phenomena, including our bodies, thoughts, and emotions, are in a constant state of flux and change. 

Seeing and deeply accepting impermanence reduces the inevitable suffering that is part of  life. Suffering encompasses more than just physical pain; it includes all forms of unsatisfactoriness, unease, and stress in life.

The Buddha throughout his long life emphasized the need to understand and embrace impermanence at a deep heartfelt level. The Buddha lived for about 80 years and died around 483 BCE.  He achieved enlightenment at age 35 and spent the next 45 years teaching his followers. It is said that while dying from food poisonings, his final teaching included : "Everything vanishes. Therefore there is nothing more important than continuing the path with diligence". 

Embracing impermanence is a lifelong practice cultivated through direct experience, meditation, and reflection on the constant, moment-by-moment changes in life. Autumn, a season of transitions, especially offers many opportunities to be mindful of  impermanence. 

Deeply accepting impermanence has several benefits besides reducing suffering and these include:

Living in the present: Cultivating an awareness of impermanence encourages mindfulness and a deeper appreciation for each fleeting moment. We shift from worrying about the future or dwelling on the past to living fully in the present.

Supports compassion and non-clinging: By acknowledging that all people and relationships are temporary, we can appreciate each other more deeply while learning to hold each other with compassion while reducing the pain of inevitable separation. 

Provides wise hope: The flip side of impermanence is that difficult times will also pass. Knowing that no situation is permanent provides resilience and wise hope in the face of adversity. Wise hope, according to Joan Halifax, is seeing and acting on things as they are rather than seeing things unrealistically. Rev. Joan Halifax is the current Abbot and Founder of Upaya Zen Center,  a socially engaged Buddhist center in Santa Fe, New Mexico.  To learn more about wise hope see my August 9, 2023 blog post.

Impermanence is not a pessimistic idea or one that means passively accepting the status quo. Instead, it can be a liberating and profoundly motivating practice that transforms one's relationship with life and how to act accordingly in the face of constant and continuous change. For more about impermanence here's a link  https://www.lionsroar.com/impermanence-is-buddha-nature/

Mary Oliver's poem In Blackwater Woods teaches us to embrace impermanence (in her words "love what is mortal") during this season of transitions. 

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders
 
of the ponds.
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
 
is salvation
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
 
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

Caring for Prospect Gardens during September, October and November offered opportunities for letting go while being mindful of impermanence. 

In September, I noticed Kudzu covering plants in a section of the Gardens near the Japanese Sumac, whose green color was turning into a bright shade of gold. Kudzu had grown into the Japanese Sumac. Kudzu is a fast-growing and climbing vine native to Asia, known for its aggressive spread. It has been used for food, fiber, and traditional medicine, with parts of the plant being edible, with a mild, spinach-like flavor. A few years ago on my walk through the Gardens I noticed a women with heritage from one of the Eastern Asian countries harvesting the Kudzu blossoms. 

As I tugged on the Kudzu, while forgetting how it spread over the Japanese Sumac, I heard a loud snap. Inadvertently, I broke off a major branch of the Japanese Sumac. The aging shrub now has a new shape, a reminder of impermanence.   

Meg and Laura V. on a Break

Another reminder of impermanence: removing the Kudzu revealed a weed infested area that once had native plants.  On September 27th,  Meg, Laura V. and I weeded and replanted the area with plants that I purchased from K&A Nursery in Verona. The nursery was having a sale before closing for the season. I spent $30 for six plants: Four yellow cone flowers, one white cone flower, and a species of  goldenrod. Shortly after planting the goldenrod, three honey bees began pollinating the blooms. We fenced the area, protection from the rabbits that have recently claimed the Gardens as their home. 

Thank you Meg and Laura V. Your continued volunteering is appreciated. We worked very well as a team.

Temperatures in the 80's and 90's required me to frequently water the newly installed plants. Thank you Patricia and Jim, neighbors near the Gardens, for access to your water.  

Laura 

Laura stopped by while we planted. She often bikes the Path. Laura is a volunteer extraordinaire. She, with help of her husband, developed and now maintain huge areas of native plants along sections of the Path  that pass through the Midvale neighborhood. The area near where the Path and the Beltline intersect is especially impressive. Thank you Laura for your continued dedication to beautifying areas along the Path that provide benefits to passersby, small animals, and insects. 

We talked about the cone flowers and a species of goldenrod  (Solidago Rugosa/Fireworks) being planted. She didn't recognize the species of our goldenrod. Later, after a Google search, I learned that this one is a native and found from Newfoundland to Ontario and Michigan, south to Missouri, Texas and Georgia. Wisconsin was not mentioned. Like other goldenrod already in the Garden this one attracts bees and butterflies. I also learned that physicians in ancient times believed that goldenrod had healing powers and that it's not the culprit for allergies, as commonly believed. 

Online Photo

Here's what Mary Oliver says we can learn from goldenrod. Please note she incorrectly suggests you can have an allergic reaction to goldenrod.  

Goldenrod                            

 On roadsides,
  in fall fields,
      in rumpy bunches,
          saffron and orange and pale gold, 

in little towers,
  soft as mash,
      sneeze-bringers and seed-bearers,
          full of bees sand yellow beads and perfect flowerlets

and orange butterflies.
  I don’t suppose
      much notice comes of it, except for honey,
           and how it heartens the heart with its

blank blaze.
  I don’t suppose anything loves it, except, perhaps,
      the rocky voids
          filled by its dumb dazzle.

For myself,
  I was just passing by, when the wind flared
      and the blossoms rustled,
          and the glittering pandemonium

leaned on me.
  I was just minding my own business
      when I found myself on their straw hillsides,
          citron and butter-colored,

and was happy, and why not?
  Are not the difficult labors of our lives
      full of dark hours?
          And what has consciousness come to anyway, so far,

that is better than these light-filled bodies?
  All day
       on their airy backbones
           they toss in the wind,

they bend as though it was natural and godly to bend,
  they rise in a stiff sweetness,
      in the pure peace of giving
           one’s gold away.

Solidago Rugosa/Fireworks.

September quietly slipped into October. By the October 25th work session, the blossoms of the solidago rugosa/fireworks planted in September had given away their gold. The brownish seeds wait to be dispersed in anticipation of renewal and rebirth.

Likewise the once colorful aster blossoms, rustling in the breeze, are now brown and fuzzy to the touch. A new cycle of life awaits in the midst of impermanence and for winter to settle in. Some of the seeds will be nourishment for wintering birds, like the sparrows.

Cresa, Joyce & Kaia

Impermanence and life cycles were some of the hallmark of the October 25th work session.  Joyce, a long time volunteer, and two West High School Leo Club members, Gresa (on the left) and Kaia thinned out, cut and removed the abundant Jerusalem artichokes from a large section on the Regent side of the Gardens. Their efforts in the sporadic light rain resulted in a larger than usual pile of plant material that the city picked up. Thank you city crew members. 

Kaia is a Freshman at West and likes science and math. Gresa is an international exchange student, a Senior, and from Kosovo. Next year she will take some time off and then attend college in one of the European countries. Hopefully, I will have the pleasure of once again gardening with both of them as they continue their journeys. 

Thank you Joyce for once again tending the Gardens. Joyce is one of the original volunteers who joined our collective efforts 16 years ago. And thank you Kaia and Gresa. 

June

This is June with her trusted baby chain saw. She has another one, referred to as the mother chair saw. With some sadness and a recognition of reality, June expertly removed the dead cherry tree. Thank you June. I helped carry away the branches and cut many to a length required for pick up by the city.

The tree was one of three planted in April 2014 and now one cherry tree remains. The cherry tree was damaged several years ago and until this season bore fruit. June picked cherries for a pie. I enjoyed picking and eating handfuls of cherries. Birds also enjoyed the berries.

The tree was covered with algae and cutting revealed a space within the trunk full of large black ants. The cherry tree even in death provided sustenance and shelter while exemplifying the interdepency of life and nature. Perhaps next spring we will decide on a replacement.    

Michael, Jake, & Madeleine

November 1st arrived, after a festive Halloween, with cloudy skies and light rain shortly after we began the work session. Joining me were Laura V., and two West High School Leo Club members: Madeleine, and Michael. Camera shy Laura took the picture. Michael and I were enjoying a chocolate chip cookie during a short break.

 Initially, Laura and Madeleine began cutting back and removing cup plants while Michael and I tackled putting up the orange snow fences. Madeleine and Laura also collected wind chimes and other objects to be stored for the winter in the little shed. 

The cold rain increased and we decided to focus just on putting up the fences. Michael and I hammered in the steel poles and afterwards Laura and Madeleine fastened the plastic fences to the poles. In no time, the task was completed. Hopefully the orange fences will prevent the city snow plowing crew from pushing snow into the Gardens. 

Laura and I put away the tools, wheelbarrow and objects in the little shed. I closed the door, fastened the lock and declared that the 2025 Prospect Gardens season ended. Thank you all who volunteered this season. Please note, while impermanence is a reality, hopefully there will be a 2026 season and enough volunteers to care for the ever changing Prospect Gardens.     

 

Before ending with another poem, I am happy to report that the family of Sandhill Cranes are, as of
this date, still with us. Here they are the day before Halloween, in the afternoon, strolling down the sidewalk across from the entrance to the garage of our apartment building. The smaller crane is the youngster. I saw them again on Halloween, in the afternoon, leisurely strolling past the lobby window of our apartment. Both times the family looked like they were carefree and certainly not busy planning their upcoming migration.

Blessings to these three and the other Sandhill Cranes as they gather to make their way to southern United States and Mexico, including Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California. Some may also stop in areas like the Platte River in Nebraska to rest and refuel before continuing their journey.

The poem for your further reflection is by the Unitarian Universalist minister Rev. David Bumbaugh.

 Dancing in the Wind

Except for a few stubborn holdouts

the tree outside my window

is bare of leaves.

The wind,

this October morning,

worries those few remaining leaves,

pulling them this way,

twisting them that way,

tugging at them

until, one by one,

exhausted by the ceaseless effort to hang on,

they go dancing with the wind.

As they waltz past my window,

the stubbornness has left them

and they are finally free.

What is it about living things

that we expend so much energy resisting the inevitable,

hanging on to that which is already gone,

hoping to sustain a season

into times that are unseasonable,

clinging to old habits

despite the pain and the discomfort?

Why are we so afraid to dance in the wind?

November 2, 2025
Edgewood Drive

May we all continue dancing in the wind and have the wisdom to know when to let go.