All the ancient sages and saints return to one non-negotiable truth: the law of impermanence. It is the invisible thread that runs through the fabric of life, weaving and shifting in cycles that shape every experience, identity, and attachment to what once was and is no more.
In Buddhist teachings, the very nature of all phenomena is this: it arises, it changes, and it then passes away. Resisting such impermanence is like trying to dam a river with your bare hands. You only exhaust yourself, and the water still finds its way through. You get wet!
Yet in our materialist culture, we are indoctrinated with the false belief that self-worth is equal to possessions, status, and the glitter of external achievement. The blueprint is enticing: When I have a million in the bank, the perfect home, and a Ferrari in the garage, then I will be happy. When I retire. I will do ... As if life only starts with retirement?
But sooner or later, you discover that what you want is not always what you need, especially when the outer trappings are disconnected from the soul’s true purpose. The more you own, the more you may fear losing it. There is a real danger that you become obsessed with thoughts on what might happen, forgetting that no insurance policy, stock strategy, or health plan can shield you from the law of impermanence.
Paradoxically, the mystics embrace impermanence because it reveals what does not change: the permanence of the soul and its unbroken connection to God, the Source, the Tao, the Universal Consciousness. By meditating on the transient world, the Mystics learned to anchor themselves in what transcends time.
Meister Eckhart, the 14th-century Christian mystic, taught a similar truth when he said, “To be full of things is to be empty of God. To be empty of things is to be full of God.” For Eckhart, the art of detachment was not withdrawal from life, but freedom within it. It is releasing the need to grasp at what inevitably passes so that the soul can rest in what is eternal. In letting go of form, the formless Presence is discovered.
In mystical thinking, endings are thresholds to new beginnings, with death merely being a passage to another dimension. Just as autumn clears the ground for spring’s blossoms, life’s losses make space for new insights, relationships, and states of being. The Sufi poet Hafiz reminds us: “Don’t get lost in your pain; know that one day your pain will become your cure.”
The mystics teach that surrendering to the law of impermanence brings peace of mind, dissolving fear at its root. We are travelers on the journey called life and only guests in the house of time. Like the river that does not mourn the stone it passes, everything you touch, everything you experience, is a moment flowing by.
So let your walk be soft and light. Love deeply. Release gently. You lose nothing, because the current carries you, steadily, inevitably, toward the eternal ocean.
Reino Gevers – Host of the LivingToBe podcast
P.S.: If you enjoyed this article, you might be interested in my latest book, Sages, Saints, and Sinners. Get it today on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and wherever good books are sold.
ReinosBlog 
Your post holds impermanence not as a sad farewell, but as a sacred cadence—the whisper that reminds us all conditioned things arise and dissolve. From the Buddhist truth of anicca, to Heraclitus’s flowing river, you weave together wisdom traditions that invite neither resignation nor resistance, but radical presence. Thank you for naming this flux with loving attention—and for holding impermanence not as absence, but as the field of becoming.