Hanging around spiritual types, you hear a lot about impermanence. I confess, I never “got” the whole impermanence thing until recently. Or, it would be more accurate to say that I never got why anyone finds impermanence to be such an earth-shattering revelation.

That we die is obvious. What’s the big schmiel? I was writing poems about death in second grade.

Is being traumatized by impermanence a guy thing? Just a thought.

I was standing in line at a local organic grocery store. Apropos of nothing, the woman behind me proclaimed: “I feel sorry for bugs. Their lives are so short!”

Remember, this is Berkeley, California. Eighty-seven percent of the people are thinking stuff like this instead of looking in their rear view mirrors and using their turn signals.

“I hate to break it to you, but humans don’t live much longer than bugs,” I answered helpfully.

Acknowledging one’s own inevitable death does put things in perspective. We should all do this frequently. One of the best answers to the question “Why do sadhana?” is “I could die at any moment.” Putting off sadhana today might mean putting it off for a looooonnnnng time.

But I finally realized that our fear of impermanence is a lot more insidious than worrying about the big D.

Every idea we hang onto about ourselves, others, the world, anything, is like flying a kite in a wind tunnel. Everything we do at every moment to shore up our sense of self is a blaring marker of our fear of impermanence. Life is change, and we resist life at every turn. Most of us are basically Blobs of Resistance. All spiritual practice is about relaxing our defenses against life.

Through doing sadhana, I discovered that I am very defensive. So, I guess it’s not a guy thing. Darn!

Many of us, finally getting down and dirty with our own impermanence, switch allegiances and cling fearfully to our chosen spiritual tradition. This God, that God. This ritual, that ritual. We quake under the blankies of spiritual organizations. Clinging fearfully to spiritual stuff is what turns spirituality into religion.

Those of you who know me, or who read Living Tantra regularly, know that I love the deities. I love the rituals of Tantra. And I love my lineage. The difficulty comes from thinking that these are the still point in an otherwise turning world.

One of the most stunning things about Tantra is that it already knows itself to be impermanent and provisional. Impermanent in that our Gods, rituals, and organizations will die and others will come along.

Provisional in that any conception we have of things is ultimately inadequate and limited. Practicing Tantra faithfully will lead you to this realization.

Have you ever heard of such a thing? A spiritual tradition that preaches, and teaches, its own provisionality? I find this unspeakably beautiful.

This Tantric teaching about itself is not just a matter of the logic of history or cosmology. It comes from direct understanding. The lack of dogmatism within Tantra reflects the nature of Nature revealed through Tantric sadhana. This is Tantra at its finest. When you are in the presence of Reality, all bets are off.

Swami Lakshman Joo, a modern siddha and interpreter of Kashmir Shaivism, writes that the descriptions of reality used in his own tradition are “meant for the spiritual advancement of the unenlightened.”

You have to take a medicine which is not sweet. It is bitter. It is not tasty. You do not like to taste it. Then what does your mother do? She puts something sweet in your mouth first, and says “Take it now.”

These “sweets” are all of the necessary supports that we use along the way to realization. And they are sweet, are they not?

So sweet, that the poet-philosopher-adept, Jnanadeva wrote:

The enjoyment of the objects of the senses becomes sweeter than the bliss of final emancipation, and in the home of loving devotion, the devotee and his God experience their sweet union.

Here, Jnanadeva is speaking of the way in which, having established ourselves in non-dual experience, we re-enter duality to play and enjoy.

My teacher once asked me if I could imagine doing my sadhana for no reason other than enjoyment. Well, at that time, I could, barely, if I squinted through a very powerful telescope. Unattached enjoyment was that far off.

My approach to practice was shot through with my desperation to be saved. From what, I’m not sure. The point is, rather than rejecting impermanence and desperately seeking salvation, Tantra gives us the means to make the return home to impermanence, to a way of being in the world that is open and unconditioned.

Ahhhh….

OM Shanti, Shambhavi

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