The Principle of Impermanance

I have never been a lover of clichés and expressions, which every writer knows to use sparingly or not at all. Yet, there’s one born every minute (as they say), and I cringe anew every time I hear the newest saying. Don’t sweat the small stuff, and it’s all small stuff was a particularly wordy one from a while back. Then, there are the old, dependables (some of which are passé): Don’t go there … at the end of the day … back in the day … it’s all good … my bad … talk to the hand … and my personal favorite, whatever.

The one I hear most often lately, whenever some nasty event is gong on in my life, is it is what it is. This is meant to convey wisdom, I suppose. It’s a fact. It’s happening. There’s nothing you can do about it. I love the definition I found online in The Urban Dictionary: “This incredibly versatile phrase can be literally translated as "f___ it." Ah, yes.

When I complain or lament about some aspect of my life to someone, and he (it’s usually a he) responds with it is what it is, there is simply no comeback. It’s a showstopper. I can’t argue, no it isn’t! Or it’s not fair. I would sound like a three-year-old.

I’ve given far too much thought to this stupid phrase, which will go its way like all such pieces of pseudo wisdom eventually do. But like so many real clichés, as opposed to stupid expressions, it is what it is actually does mean something: here's this thing that’s happening. It’s a single event in a single moment.

So, what are my options? Well, I can rail and scream about it, I can ignore it, or I can step back and observe it dispassionately. That’s hard to do when I'm in the middle of a mess, but it’s possible with practice. It even has a name: mindfulness.

I’ve probably read a dozen books on mindfulness, but basically it means paying attention, on purpose—not doing anything—just observing. Then, the most amazing thing happens: whatever I am observing changes in some way. It is one thing for a moment; then, it’s something else. If it is what it is means this is what’s happening right now, if I wait a while, something else will be happening. Nothing stays exactly the way for very long. Everything is constantly changing. Wait a minute, and what is will become what was.

When life is a mess, this is a very comforting thought.

The Return of Perspective

Viktor Frankl wrote that problems are like molecules of gas confined in a container. If the container is small, the molecules huddle together; if the container is large, they put enough space between them to fill the whole thing. Frankl said it much more eloquently, of course, but the lesson is clear. Problems, like molecules of gas, expand to fill one’s life, taking up whatever room is available. What’s not so clear, though, is which of those problems deserve attention and which aren’t worth our energy. In other words, of all the annoyances, disappointments, and stressors that assail us each day, which ones really matter?

Sometimes, it’s hard to tell. Everything takes on the same appearance of importance. Someone steals the parking space you were about to pull into; your boss makes a ridiculous request; you lose an account; you misplace your debit card; you feel like you’re coming down with a cold; traffic is at a standstill, and you have an appointment. In all, your molecules are spread out all all over the place, and they are fighting for your attention.

Then, you get a call from the school. Your daughter has fallen off the top of a pyramid at cheerleading practice and broken her arm. The school nurse is taking her to the emergency room.

In the space of a single sentence, you know what matters. It isn’t your stuffy head or lost account or unreasonable boss. It’s your daughter and her broken arm. The other problems shrink in size or simply disappear. You wonder why you let them get to you, as you focus on driving to the emergency room to comfort your daughter and assess the seriousness of her fracture.

We all encounter problems every day, ranging from minor annoyances to major catastrophes. I hear them from friends and strangers. They assail me on the news and the Internet. I obsess over my own. And then something big happens (big being a relative term) that pulls me up short and screams in my ear: Get a grip. The rest of this stuff is nothing more than mere molecules.

And for a while, anyway, my perspective returns.