The heart of verse four’s message is: ponder impermanence. The verse reads,

Close friends who have long been together will separate,

Wealth and possessions gained with much effort will be left behind,

Consciousness, a guest, will leave the hotel of the body-

To give up the concerns of this life is the practice of a bodhisattva.

When we think about it, we know nothing will last forever. And our desire to hold onto those things doesn’t change that cold, hard fact. Sometimes friendships dissolve and fall apart. The savings account we work tirelessly to save, all that carefully curated stuff in our house, all of it will be gone or left behind when we die. Even our own consciousness is a guest in our body.

But this doesn’t have to be depressing news. We can use impermanence to help us know what life is really for: meaning, and purpose, and beauty, and kindness. Stuff that lasts more than a couch or a car or even our hairlines and waist lines.

The reason we think on impermanence is because it helps us let go when we get all worked up. Why are we making such a fuss over these things? What did we expect, that we live in some bubble-wrapped world where things never change? Things always change. Hold everything loosely.

Of course, that doesn’t mean holding it carelessly. If we do it right, impermanence offers a sense of sacredness to our days. We see what is holy and good, and what is just noise. Impermanence teaches us what matters. It doesn’t teach us that nothing matters. And that distinction is really important.

Lastly, impermanence helps us learn to let go of the outcomes. We operate from a deeper place than someone else’s response. As the lojong slogan says, “Don’t expect applause.”

Above all, as Ken McLeod says, “Do what life calls for in each moment…Do it because your life calls for it- nothing more.” This week, consider what your life is calling for, and let that be your guide.