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This tree, I believe, has been here for almost two decades now. It grows on our neighbor's backyard, just a few feet away from my window. Whenever I need a glimpse of nature, this santol tree is a reliable companion. Nowadays, it has begun to bear fruits: round, green, unripe santol fruits which will, in a few weeks time, be yellow or orange as they ripen. The leaves, at times, become red and orange, and they look like crumpled crepe papers hanging on branches. When they fall, they litter our backyard and rooftop that definitely peeves my mom. Some fruits fall and thud on the rooftop. Teenage boys sometimes hang out in our backyard and try to steal some fruits. In a year's time, I have seen many changes of this tree, which is a perfect example of how impermanent things are.
I felt ignorant when I read the word impermanence in a Buddhist magazine. It says there that you cannot ever understand what the Buddha taught if you are still clueless of impermanence. The dictionary where I searched the word gave me a straight answer: not lasting. Still, the word eluded my life.
In my first meditation retreat, I came across with experiencing the concept of impermanence. Hearing those meditation instructions constantly reminded me of how impermanence should be understood. Everything is changing. NOTHING is permanent. Everything comes, goes. Things that arise, pass. Beginnings have endings. There is always an ever-moving reality. I found it move through out my body while meditating, from a mosquito bite, to a very stubborn itch I was tempted to scratch, then later went away. Again, it reminded of what my late grandmother had told me while we were arguing each other long time ago: All things change. It was an epiphany unbeknown to me, a larger understanding that easily anchored my discernment of Love.
Change was then an uncomfortable word for me. Especially it was difficult for me to part ways with friends, funny situations and cheerful moments. I had sunk into sadness every time I bid goodbyes, knowing that the possibility of meeting again might be very unlikely. In the long run, I have noticed myself getting used to this kind of situations, since I often encounter new people and bid goodbyes again. It was a recurrent pain to accept change. But the process has taught me more; that every time people leave, there are more new people to meet. And I have seen it in those moments that I possibly never encounter anymore. I look again closely to those people I am very thankful I met. I smoothly accept the fact that as we say our goodbyes, there are new people again to say hellos. My mentor once told me "People come and go." Those four words help me to accept these inevitable changes.
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