The quote above is a lyric from a Tori Amos song, Horses. It’s a song about the impermanence of life—love, loss, and letting go. It is also about the things that obstinately remain. These are the Golden Threads.

Jeannette and I have passed the lyric back and forth to each other over our decades-long friendship, in letters, emails, and birthday packages. It serves as a reminder to us that even in the messiest, wildest moments, our Golden Threads remain, holding the tapestry of our lives together.

Full disclosure: I’ve written this post twice. The first time, I somehow miraculously deleted it right before hitting “publish.” The irony of me throwing a monumental tantrum over a lost blog article titled Make Peace With Impermanence is not lost on me. Still, writing is one of my Golden Threads. That is how you are reading a piece that might otherwise have remained forever lost.

When Things Fall Apart

Some days are better than others during this Coronavirus era, but today the entire world seems to be crumbling.

Everything is falling apart.

I wonder: were the pieces ever actually put together? Or did it only feel that way, sometimes, on a sunny morning with a job to wake up for and after-work plans to eagerly anticipate. Maybe a swim in warm water, or an afternoon spent writing in a cafe, or evening drinks with friends.

Jobs, plans, friends, sharing public spaces, running errands, hugs. These personal pieces of mine have scattered.

Also, there are the global pieces. Planet Earth, Black lives, America’s moral standing, our faith and trust in one another, the Golden Rule—these pieces are burning. Perhaps they always have been.

I’m rereading When Things Fall Apart, by Pema Chödrön. The last time I read this book, I still believed in certain certainties. I trusted that even if the structures cracked here and there, the foundations would prevail.

I don’t trust anything these days. I understand now what it really feels like when things fall apart. So I’m reading a book about it, because, praise God, books still feel safe. The bindings still hold.

This morning, I read the following passage:

“Impermanence is the goodness of reality. Just as the four seasons are in continual flux, winter changing to spring to summer to autumn; just as day becomes night, light becoming dark becoming light again—in the same way, everything is constantly evolving. Impermanence is the essence of everything. It is the babies becoming children, then teenagers, then adults, then old people, and somewhere along the way dropping dead. Impermanence is meeting and parting. It’s falling in love and falling out of love. Impermanence is bittersweet, like buying a new shirt and years later finding it as part of a patchwork quilt.”

“…bittersweet, like buying a new shirt and years later finding it as part of a patchwork quilt.”

I got stuck on that word, bittersweet. It’s not the first time I’ve contemplated the contradiction during this pandemic. Recently though, I’ve had a hard time finding the sweet in all the bitter. Even the Golden Threads are taut. Stand back, they warn. We’ll snap.

Pema goes on,

“People have no respect for impermanence. We take no delight in it; in fact, we despair of it. We regard it as pain. We try to resist it by making things that will last—forever, we say—things that we don’t have to wash, things that we don’t have to iron. Somehow, in the process of trying to deny that things are always changing, we lose our sense of the sacredness of life. We tend to forget that we are part of the natural scheme of things.”

So everything is always changing, and this is the “natural” way. But what do we do when every change is cataclysmic? It’s one thing for us to “go with the flow” when little waves kiss our toes. What about when the tide comes so high that we’re pulled completely under?

How do we “flow” then?

Pema tells us to flow the same, to maintain “our sense of the sacredness of life,” even during difficult times.

“Impermanence is a principle of harmony,” she writes.

When we don’t struggle against it, we are in harmony with reality. Many cultures celebrate this connectedness. There are ceremonies marking all the transitions of life from birth to death, as well as meetings and partings, going into battle, losing the battle, and winning the battle. We too could acknowledge, respect, and celebrate impermanence.

What does it look like to “celebrate impermanence”?

We must flow. Even when the bitter has overpowered the sweet. Even when the most golden threads are threatening to snap. Even when the tide pulls us under.

Especially when the tide pulls us under.

We must soften our body, surrender the struggle, let the water carry on, and carry us. We must continue to search for the sweet. We must carry on celebrating our golden threads and silver linings.

We must adamantly cultivate trust that the ebb and flow which swoops us away from solid ground, will return us eventually to a safe landing place.

And when, at last, we find ourselves standing once again, we must thank the waves for the journey.

Journal Exercise: Golden Threads and Silver Linings

Open your favorite journal to a clean new page. Before you pick up your pen, close your eyes, settle into your seat, and turn your attention to your breath—smooth and steady. Place one hand on your navel, one hand on your heart. Feel the hand on your belly move with your inhale and exhale. Feel the beat of your heart pulsing against your other hand. You are alive, and here is your proof. Silently or aloud, say thank you. When you are ready, open your eyes, pick up you pen and start writing.

Write a list of everything you are grateful for—every sweet thing, every golden thread, every silver lining. Don’t edit, judge, or qualify your list. Write down even the littlest thing. A little beam of light can still crack open a dark room. Write until your hand is cramped. Write until the page is full. Do not stop until you have squeezed yourself of every last drop of nectar.

Repeat this practice daily, especially when you’re struggling to find solid ground.

Silver Linings and Golden Threads

We cannot change the mercurial nature of Life. However, we can make peace with impermanence by cultivating a feeling of gratitude for the good things that come with hard changes, and the good things that remain throughout. These are our silver linings and golden threads. Lucky for us, even when things fall apart, these don’t break easily.

Want more Resources for Making Peace with Impermanence?

BOOK

Heart advice for difficult times.

Note: I am a proud affiliate of this book, and I do receive a small commission from each sale.

RECIPE

Practice turning bitter into sweet.

PLAYLIST

A fall isn’t final unless you stay on the ground.