The Art of Understanding Impermanence

On what we run toward and what we lose sight of along the way.

Everything is temporary.
Maybe we humans understand it late. Or sometimes we don’t understand it at all. We run behind money, stability, success, goals and what not. Not because those things are wrong — some of them are essential. But they are not the essence of life.
And everything is temporary. What matters at the end of everything is maybe nothing. Or maybe it is the moments we thought did not matter at all.
I realised this when I lost my pet recently.
I am still not able to digest the fact that he is not there with me. Because somewhere I realised, after his loss, that he was my unsaid comfort. Whenever I was not willing to go anywhere, he became my reason — and the most beautiful one — because spending time with him mattered more than any trip or function.
My most beautiful moments included him. And I took him for granted — in a good way. But maybe that is why it is hard to believe he is not there.
In fact, he taught me to be myself. Maybe just to be in the present. Which I am still learning to do because I am still analysing why he left me.

What People Don’t Understand
Often now, people take this as if I am being very much a dog lover and don’t think about anything else. But that is not the case with me. At least.
Before Gabbar came into my life, I was dealing with life issues — which, in some way or the other, we all do. But he became my comfort in that chaos. He being a Saint Bernard, giant in size, often cuddling him became the most delightful thing. So maybe his physical presence mattered to me the most.
But after his loss, I realised how loss can actually make you rethink everything. What we are doing. Why we are doing everything.

The Question That Changes Everything
I then started to realise how much we keep thinking about the past or the future.
When will I get this? Why did that happen? What if this goes wrong? What if I don’t achieve that?
Why can’t we think beyond that?
Why can’t we learn to live in the moment the way we should? If you are reading a book, enjoy that moment. If you are doing work, enjoy that very moment instead of inclining toward the past or future. We often keep analysing something that has happened or yet to happen and waste the beautiful moments. And then we regret it — because those moments become memories and we relive them, wishing we had been present when they were actually happening.
Instead, be in that moment. Enjoy that sunset while you are witnessing it. Enjoy your life while you live every moment.

What Impermanence Teaches
The hardest lesson is this: you cannot hold onto anything. Not really. Not the people you love. Not the pets that become family. Not the moments that feel like they will last forever. Not the life you thought you had planned.
Everything slips away. Everything ends. And the cruelty of it is that you do not realise how precious something is until it is gone. You do not understand the value of the moment you are in until you are looking back at it from a place where it no longer exists.
Gabbar taught me this without meaning to. His presence in my life was so ordinary, so woven into every day, that I thought it would always be there. I thought I could postpone being fully with him — there would be other moments, other days, other times to really be present. There would be time later.
There was not.
And now I understand something I should have understood all along. That the present moment is the only real thing we have. Everything else — the plans, the goals, the things we are running toward — they are real only insofar as they exist in our minds. The present moment is the only thing that actually exists right now.

Learning to Live What We Already Know
We know this. Somewhere deep down, we all know that everything is temporary. We know that the moment we are in will never come again. We know that the people we love are not guaranteed to be here tomorrow.
And yet we live as if we have all the time in the world. We postpone presence. We delay being fully here. We keep one foot in the past or the future, analysing what went wrong or what might go right, and we miss the life that is actually happening.
After losing Gabbar, I am relearning what I should have known all along. That the work that matters is not the work you do for success or stability or the things you are running toward. The work that matters is the work of being present. The discipline of putting down the analysis and the worry and the planning, and just being where you are.
If you are with someone you love, be with them. Not with half your attention on your phone. Not with one eye on the clock. Just be there. Because that moment — the ordinary, unremarkable, easy-to-take-for-granted moment — might be the last one you get.

The Art of Understanding Impermanence
Impermanence is not something to fear. It is something to understand. And understanding it changes everything about how you live.
When you understand that everything is temporary, you stop waiting for the right moment to be present. You stop postponing joy. You stop telling yourself that you will enjoy this later, that you will be fully here when things settle down, when you achieve that goal, when life is less chaotic.
You understand that there is no later. There is only now.
And you start to live differently. You notice the sunset because you understand it will pass. You spend time with the people you love because you understand that time is the only real currency. You do the work that matters because you understand that legacy is not measured in money or achievements but in the moments you were fully present for.
You enjoy your life while you live every moment.
This is the art of understanding impermanence. And it is an art that can only be learned through loss. Through the specific, disorienting pain of reaching for something that was always there and finding it gone.
Gabbar taught me this. His presence and then his absence both. And I am still learning to live it — still analysing why he left me, still reaching for moments that have already passed, still struggling to stay in the present moment.
But I am learning.
And maybe that is all we can do. Keep learning. Keep choosing to be present. Keep remembering, every time we forget, that everything is temporary and that the only real thing we have is this moment. Right here. Right now.
Before it becomes a memory.
Before it is gone.

Author’s Note:
The moments that matter most are the ones you think will last forever. Until they don’t. Be present now. Not later. Not tomorrow. Now. Because everything is temporary, and the present moment is the only thing that is actually real.