Everything is temporary, including the worst conflicts, most painful experiences, and deepest grief.

Impermanence is the quiet mercy at the center of consciousness: even the storm that feels endless is already breaking apart. Grief, conflict, the heaviest days — they arrive as weather, not climate, moving through the same one field that holds everything else. When we stop bracing against the pain as if it were permanent, we feel how it is already loosening, already returning to stillness. Nothing that hurts this much was built to last, because nothing is built to last; that is the same truth that lets the joy pass too, and lets the next thing arrive. We are not the storm. We are the wide water it moves across. What would soften in you if you trusted that this, too, is already on its way out?