Fall, Impermanence, and Interdependence

by Rose

As the seasons in the Northern Hemisphere cycle into autumn, the days are getting shorter, colder, and darker; and the nights are stretching out. This is the ideal time to begin to turn inwards after the brightness and activity of summer, and to spend these darker hours in contemplation and practice (perfect timing for our new Sacred Night Group. As the trees take on their fall coloring of gold, red, and amber, and then begin to shed even that, the instability and impermanence of our experience in this realm comes to the fore.

Impermanence shows us that nothing—no person, no event, no situation, no part of our experience—is solid, lasting, or independently existent from its own side. Instead, all of our experience is in constant flux, continually changing. So there is nothing for us to cling to or hope will last forever.

There’s a way that might seem frightening, but it is also liberating. Because it helps us to realize the interdependence of ourselves and our world. Each moment of experience depends upon many causes and conditions in order to come about. We see this all around us and within us. The spring and summer are times of birth and arising—seeds spring forth from the ground with the assistance of the water and warmth that nourish them. New life is birthed from the mother and father and all the conditions that nurtured that life into being. Each moment of consciousness arises in relationship with whatever that consciousness is perceiving. All things and all experiences are deeply intertwined with everything around them.

In the Avatamsaka Sutra (The Flower Ornament Sutra), we have the beautiful image of Indra’s Net. Upon each nexus of the net’s threads, a jewel glistens and perfectly reflects every other jewel. If a wind ripples in one area of this net, the whole fabric feels that movement. No part of this net can be torn from the whole; all is interconnected, simultaneously a part and the whole.

In the Fall, we observe many reminders of what happens when causes and conditions shift and change, phenomena and experiences disintegrate. Leaves dry out, wither and fall from the trees. There may seem to be a dying away of life, yet due to interdependence, nothing is ever lost from the whole. Death and decay may appear, and we certainly have feelings to process around these appearances, but they do not ultimately exist.

It is helpful to remember that the arising of experience depends upon the dissolution of experience—they dance together. Each moment of loss also opens a doorway to another energetic arising.

Thich Nhat Hanh poetically illustrates this in Peace is Every Step:

I asked the leaf whether it was frightened because it was autumn and the other leaves were falling. The leaf told me “No. During the whole spring and summer I was completely alive. I worked hard to help nourish the tree, and now much of me is in the tree. I am not limited by this form. I am also the whole tree, and when I go back to the soil, I will continue to nourish the tree. So I don’t worry at all. As I leave this branch and float to the ground, I will wave to the tree and tell her, "I will see you again very soon.”

We experience the changing qualities of the seasons, the apparent birthing and dissolution of life, and yet at the same time, we are everything, everywhere, all at once.

Here is a practice to help us integrate this into our experience: At the end of our day, we can take some time and write down the events of that day, working backwards from that moment. This is not a journal to explain the intricacies of life, but rather just to help bring to mind our day—a brief list will suffice. Then, notice how in this moment, all of your experiences are simply memories. And what is the difference between those remembered moments from your day and remembering your dreams from last night? They are equally transient: simply moments of consciousness that have now washed away on the great tide of impermanence. As we contemplate this, you may also begin to recognize the dreamlike nature of all experience.

While you go about our day, keep in mind that “tonight this will just be a memory, and even that memory will morph and fade over time.” Perhaps we can even say to ourselves, “this day is like a dream, a magical illusion, a mirage, like the image of the moon reflected in water.”

Of course, sometimes it will be easier to recognize this dreamlike nature, and other times it will be really challenging because of a strong emotional charge. Keeping that in mind will help give you insight into places where you may need extra care, help, or healing.

We also have many verses in song in our tradition that illustrate these points and, as we close our evening journal, we may feel inspired to sing one.

For example, in The Fundamental Wisdom of the Middle Way, Nagarjuna wrote:

Like a dream, like an illusion

Like a city of gandharvas

That’s how birth and that’s how living

That's how dying are taught to be.

And:

Whatever arises from conditions does not arise.

It does not have the nature of arising.

Whatever depends on conditions is explained to be empty,

And to know emptiness is the way to be conscientious.

These verses and this practice are profound. That means they take time to get used to and sink in. But if you stay in contact with them, over time their meaning reveals itself more and more. As the days get colder, may they keep you warm company.