Thoughts on Impermanence

     The notion of Impermanence has been, ironically, one of the most comforting aspects of my spiritual archaeology. On first impression it would seem to be asking us to think about something that doesn’t exist. But with some further inquiry we find we are being asked to recognize how thoughts, the product of the mind, are ephemeral, and lacking in the permanence we ordinarily grant them. In fact when we meditate for any length of time on our thinking we find that we aren’t even in control of when, where, or how often any particular series of pictures, notions, or ideas will arise. While we are able to direct our thinking to particular tasks in order to function in the world, we find when we try to stop our thinking that we are virtually at the mercy of our “monkey mind.”
     With some practice on the cushion we find that we can, on a good day, let go of the mental monkey swinging wildly from one ideational limb to another, and just watch the thoughts come and go; emerging, merging, and receding, as though they were on strings controlled by an unseen puppeteer. I found myself making a smooth transition from this awareness to the ever changing body I observed in the mirror each morning with sagging skin and graying hair. It seemed obvious to me that all of the things in my life were but temporary visions of an ever fluid body of matter. All things are impermanent. ALL things are impermanent; not just the obvious ones, but even those ideas we consider self-evident and readily accept as truth like the Self and Time.
     One weekend during zazen with a group in Bath, Ohio, I experienced one of those mini-insights that make all the rigorous, boring hours worthwhile. I was aware of a rooster crowing. It occurred to me that at that moment, that I was the crowing. This was immediately followed by the thought that having thought this, “I” returned, and I was therefore no longer the crowing. This of course led me into a litany of unwanted thoughts and multifarious attempts at dropping them. On the drive home after meditation however, I explored the idea intellectually. What, in truth, is the ‘self’? Where is that me or “I”, which as human beings, we are so sure exists and is separate from all other things?
     When fully involved in some task - anything from feeling anger, to thinking about sex, shooting a foul shot, or sinking a long putt - “I” is not present. That is to say, the “I” in I am, is not there. Whenever fully absorbed in the moment with whatever is being done, the “I” is actually missing. (We might even say missing in action.) When “I” is not present - in that moment - I am that which is being done, thought, or felt. If the feeling is anger, love, or if I’m just in the midst of criticism, I am at that moment the anger, criticism, or love. These are not happening to me…they are me. Suddenly it all made sense.
     When I think something negative about someone else, I am that which I think. I not only cannot elude ownership of what I think, but I actually become the very thing I’m thinking at that moment. The other person may or may not be what I’m attaching to him, but it is for certain that I am. Positive or negative, for better or for worse, I am married to my thoughts…we are one.
     But where does this self or “I” come from and where does it go? The self is present only when my thinking is in the past or the future; when regretting or planning, remembering or hoping. Regardless of the subject, this “I” is present because as objects, the past and the future need a subject. When not fully absorbed in the present, the mechanics of memory and projection will objectify. This objectification process also requires the creating of a subject and so, the construct “I” is born out of the dualism inherent in the mechanism of human thought. Out of an ephemeral past and future we are thrust into a world of seemingly solid matter as the observing “I” or self.
     However, when fully in the moment, I am that which is going on in that moment - it is me. And there is no “I” (subject) to observe it (the object). The process of our existence, the standing out from our present moment and remembering a past or projecting into a future, gives the human species the illusion of a unique and separate self (subject) which is experienced and labeled as “I” or “me”.
     “I” wasn’t present when typing the previous statements. “I” was replaced by the ideas themselves, and in doing so the typist/thinker was the thoughts. “I” returned as the typing stopped and the typist thought about what had been typed; only to disappear again as typing resumed, fully absorbed in the act of typing this sentence. Then the “I” returned once again and remembered what was written. It’s all very fluid and impermanent this coming and going of “I”. So where is this “I”? Or better yet, what is it? Is it a thing at all?