I lie on my back staring at the canopy of color, listening to the sounds of the earth. The birds. The breeze. The leaves. The insects. The stream. My heart pleads, "Stay. Make this moment last a little longer." But the moment is gone. The sting of impermanence left its mark.
Why must the
leaves change so quickly? If fall is death, why is it so beautiful? Perhaps it
is only beautiful, because life will emerge again. Perhaps it is not death, but
simply change.
There is
beauty in the angst of impermanence, because it is a consequence of love and
longing. There is beauty in suffering. Not all suffering, but some. I certainly
don't advocate for apathy toward suffering, however, if there is
no suffering or pain, there is no love or joy. The only way to end suffering
is to end life. All becomes meaningless in the absence of opposition.
Although, the
beauty of pain and suffering would be overshadowed by the beauty of life
emerging. Reemerging. Not all beauty is equal. Perhaps I'm young and naïve, limited
by my embodiment and finite logic, but I would like to behold the beauty of
eternal life. Eternal progression inspires me and begets my actions toward
greater goals in an ongoing process of becoming. Life is not static, and I do not see how eternal life could be static. There is endless potential within humanity,
but it requires impermanence, suffering, and love.
