Permanent: fixed and changeless; lasting; not expected to change in status, condition or place
I spent much of last weekend in the garden, dealing with my plants (wanted and unwanted). The rhodies, iris and peonies were at their peak, and all looked fabulous.
But now the rhody bushes are covered with dead florets and look like hell. Ditto the iris and peonies. I want everything to STOP! Why won’t the rhodies just STAY in perfect bloom? Ditto the iris and peonies.
If there is one thing plants teach it’s impermanence. A plant is at its peak only for a couple of weeks. Cut a flower to bring inside and maybe it lasts a few days.
A few years ago I took an Ikebana (Japanese flower arranging) class at the Shambhala Meditation Center in Portland. The teacher had brought all sorts of plant materials and one vase for each of us.
I have had a fair amount of ikebana training so the lesson wasn’t particularly new for me, but some of the materials were novel (those flat sweet little peaches, for example).
We all fixed and fussed on our own arrangements for maybe an hour. Mine turned out to be the most fabulous arrangement I had ever created (at least I thought so). It totally tickled me, particularly how I’d used the peach and picked up its subtle colors in the other plant materials I used.
The teacher walked us from arrangement to arrangement tweaking here and there and discussing what worked in each one. We were inspired by each other’s creations.
Then she said, “OK, take them apart. We’re going to do another arrangement and you’ll need to re-use that vase.”
WHAT !?!?! My chef ‘ouevre? The pinnacle of my ikebana career? Destroyed after only one hour??
I know that plants are ephemeral, but to KILL an arrangement after only one hour was unthinkable! And I didn’t even bring a camera to capture it on film for my continuing pleasure.
Buddhist teachings stress that all is impermanent, that attachment is suffering. I got it.