DON'T LIKE CHANGE?

You've probably seen that clever saying taped to the tip jar in your local espresso shop: "Don't like change? -- Leave it here!" It seems like a lot of people don't like change, but that has never been my philosophy. I've always believed that the only constant in life is change and, for the most part, I welcomed it - even forced it on myself at times just to get out of my comfort zone and grow a little bit.

These days, for some reason, I'm seeing "change" more as "impermanence." Yes, they can have similar meanings, but one seems a bit deeper, a bit more philosophical than the other, and I've been trying to get more of a sense of what impermanence means. As with many concepts (left, right; dark, light; hot, cold) I decided that to understand impermanence, I also had to grasp the meaning of permanence.

About the most permanent thing I could think of is the Earth. Historically, mankind has used analogies involving the earth to express solidity, firmness, durability (i.e. "solid as a rock," "grounded in one's conviction"), so on my meditation walk today I concentrated on the Earth, and what I could learn from it.

As I walked, I concentrated initially on how my heel touched the ground, then how my weight rolled toward the front of my foot and how my toes pushed off as my other foot started its step. Trying to be mindful without overly thinking things, I tried to sense the interface, to feel my feet and how they interacted with the solidness of the ground. It's easy to walk without thinking, to let one's mind wander and experience what really is a pretty fascinating coordination of human tissue. One starts to be aware of the gentle balancing swing of the arms, the subtle shifting of the skeleton to counter uneven terrain, the balance of the head on top of this pile of muscle and bones and the constant movement of one's center, smoothly transported forward.

In Aikido, one constant in movement is to keep one's weight "underside." What ever part of your body is facing the ground, the bottom of one's feet, the underside of one's arms, legs or hands, is weighted heavier than the opposite, upper side. So as I walked, my center moving forward, my weight underside, my feet pushing off the earth, I felt grounded. I felt like there was something solid I could rely upon and even draw energy from. I felt like I was beginning to understand permanence.

It was quite comforting. The next step, however, will be to try and grasp the concept of impermanence. Somehow, I don't think that will be quite as comforting.