Embracing Impermanence
- Nojan Zandesh
- Sep 11
- 2 min read
Updated: Sep 21
Embracing Impermanence
People change. They move. They grow apart. Life evolves, sometimes so subtly you only notice it looking back. And when we try to hold things still—freeze them in time—we suffer.
We all carry a silent hope that good things will stay just as they are. That the friendships that hold us now will last in the same way forever. That our parents will always be a phone call away. That the person we love today will love us the same way tomorrow.
But time has its own flow.
You’re sitting at a dinner table. Your closest friends are laughing beside you. The candles flicker, glasses clink, a shared memory sparks another round of joy. For a moment, everything feels perfect.
But somewhere in your mind, there’s a quiet knowing: this won’t last forever.
Not because something is wrong. But because nothing lasts forever.
People change. They move. They grow apart. Life evolves, sometimes so subtly you only notice it looking back. And when we try to hold things still—freeze them in time—we suffer. Not because change is cruel, but because we misunderstood its purpose.
To embrace impermanence is to come alive to the moment. It’s to love harder, listen better, and release faster. Because we finally understand: this is all part of it.
Maybe you’ve gone back to your childhood home and felt that strange ache—everything is familiar, yet nothing is the same. The walls are still there, but the energy has shifted. The laughter echoing from your memories has quieted.
Or maybe you’ve looked at someone you once loved with your whole being and realized... the closeness is gone. Not because of a fight. Just because life moved on, and so did you.
These moments sting. They stretch us. But they also soften us—if we let them.
Wabi-sabi, the Japanese concept of beauty in imperfection and transience, teaches us that a cracked bowl is more beautiful because of the crack. It's a sign that it’s been used, loved, lived with. It reminds us that decay is not the opposite of beauty—it’s part of it.
When we accept impermanence, we begin to appreciate things as they are right now.You stop scrolling through your phone when your child is talking to you.You say “I’m sorry” without waiting.You finally wear the dress you’ve been saving “for the right occasion.”
Because you realize: this moment is the occasion.
And when something ends—whether it’s a friendship, a job, a version of yourself—it’s not proof of failure. It’s a chapter closing, so another can begin.
We must let things evolve. That includes ourselves.You are not meant to stay the same. The things that once defined you—your job, your role in someone’s life, even your beliefs—are allowed to shift. That is not loss. That is growth.



