posted 3 Jun 2013, 13:52 by Akasharaja Bruton
Over the last eight months or so, the dominant feature of my life has been change. My mother died in September. Since then, my father has set off on a new life journey and has just remarried. There are lots of reasons why this is a good thing, and neither he nor I have any doubt that my mother would have approved. A consequence of this is the imminent sale of the family home where my brother and I grew up. We were there last weekend, sifting through the contents of our past, looking for whatever we wanted to take with us. I came across scrapbooks I compiled as a little boy, letters from various past loves, photos of my mother, of my parents’ wedding and of their parents and families, some dating back many, many years. But the house seemed vacant, a little mournful, as if already emptied of life. And, to cap it all, my family and I are heading off overseas, back to Berlin, where we lived until we moved to Shropshire in 2009. Leaving behind us our own family home, a friendly neighbourhood, a safe town and a lively Buddhist community to embark on a new adventure. Again, there are many reasons for this, not least a desire to open up new potentials, to benefit from the breadth of experience that this move will give all of us: my partner and me, and our children alike.
Buddhism strongly emphasises impermanence and a deep understanding and acceptance of it as the key to wisdom and happiness. The Buddha’s last recorded words were “all conditioned things are impermanent – with mindfulness, strive!” Buddhists try to recognise that the objects and relationships the world has to offer can’t provide enduring satisfaction because they don’t last. Everything that has a beginning also comes to an end. And clinging to impermanent things and relationships causes us to suffer.
All this may sound a bit grim – and yet, my point is that we can turn this on its head and say “Everything that has an end has a beginning!” It’s impermanence that allows new things to happen. Yes, my old family home is empty of life right now, but it will very shortly be home to a new family; other children will hopefully grow up happily within its walls and enjoy playing in the lovely garden my mother took such pride in and on which her ashes lie scattered. Our two little boys will learn new skills, a new language and gain a different and valuable perspective on life. My partner and I will face new challenges and opportunities and hopefully grow as people as a result. My father and his new wife – both recently bereaved - will enjoy the consolation of a new relationship and the life-changing possibilities that will bring.
My point is that change is not just to be feared. It can’t in any case be avoided - and can bring with it all sorts of new opportunities. We can choose to cling to the past, to old habits, refuse to let go – or we can approach change with a sense of new beginnings and opportunities. So next time a change thrusts itself upon you, why not try to look at it like that?