Why do we condense our life into years? Over the years, I have been grappling with the paradoxical illusion of Time. This time that we spend so much time worrying about! There! That rotten piece of writing full of unbidden puns! I know that time really doesn’t exist. That this thing we call past, present, and future is hidden into a beautiful coalescing of moments that die as they arise. Yet, we love to celebrate our life with the ending and beginning of different periods of time. Birthdays. Anniversaries. And, of course, the passing of each year divided into months, weeks, and days as devised by a Pope you have never met back in the 15th century, who based it on a King he hadn’t met back before Christ was born. There. We mark time by seasons. Seasons change. And yet, here we remain, expecting and clinging on to what we think should never change.
The year 2017 rubbed in the concept of aniccha or impermanence even more. I learnt that this is all there is – the arising and falling of each moment. I learnt that nothing lasts. I learnt this the hard way. I learnt that those who promise friendship in May can turn around and attack you in June. I learn that the only way to keep the people closest to you is to see their actions, and not their words. 2017 taught me that there all sorts of people who come and go, and very few who are going to make it with you till tomorrow. Notice that I am not saying till the end of your life. When I just spoke about the impermanence of everything, how can anyone stay with us all our life? Life itself is an ember away from the ashes of death. I meant that our heart is a small place that becomes cozier as time goes by with the hug of a few. Their imprints stay even if they don’t stay. This year taught me that, and these: