Impermanence

Impermanence

The state or fact of lasting for only a limited period of time.

There is a beautiful ritual practiced by Tibetan monks once a sand mandala is complete. After days or weeks of steady hands and focused devotion, they ceremoniously sweep the intricate design away—every grain of sand. It is collected and released into a nearby river. This is known as the Destruction, or Dissolution Ceremony, and it honors the idea of impermanence.

As I write this, I am on a plane heading west, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.

I’ve just spent ten beautiful days in England with my family—celebrating my oldest son as he graduated from his studies, helping him move from Birmingham (UK) to London to begin his career. We traveled, we ate well, we laughed deeply. And we cried, too… well, mostly me.

There was one moment that seemed to hold everything at once. We were sitting in a charming little cake shop, indulging in rich Biscoff cheesecake and creamy flat white coffee, when we received a video call from my sister. Back home, she was holding our sweet Bella - our fifteen-year-old Australian Shepherd - as she was being put to sleep after a sudden and rapid health decline.

Joy and sorrow sat side by side at the table with us.

I watched Bella close her eyes for the last time through a screen, speaking to her softly and letting her know I was there with her, while my younger son quietly wrapped his arm around mine, letting me know he was there with me. In that moment, I felt it all—deep grief, overwhelming love, and a quiet gratitude for the present, and for every moment that had led us there.

Impermanence.

Nothing lasts—not the circumstances, not even the feelings themselves.

Moments that stir something deep within us can be hard to sit with. We either want to cling to them forever or rush them away as quickly as possible. But I am learning something gentler: to turn toward the moment, to feel it fully, to honor it, and then to release it.

This, I think, is my own kind of dissolution ceremony.

To acknowledge the work, admire the colors, feel the fullness of it all—and then, with gratitude, sweep it away. Making space for what comes next.

Graduation day. Birmingham. London. Vacation. Biscoff cheesecake. Bella. Joy. Grief.

All of it—temporary.

And yet, all of it—meaningful.

If I want to truly experience these moments, I must hold them with open hands...to give my heart fully, while understanding that letting go is part of the gift.

Goodbyes are not easy. Not to a son stepping into his own life across an ocean. Not to a beloved dog seen for the last time through a phone screen. Not even to a fleeting season of discovery and wonder in a distant country.

But they are necessary.

So cry when you’re sad. Smile when you’re happy. Laugh whenever you can. Offer your truest self to the people around you—because you are part of their story, too.

And remember this, dear reader: though much of this life is fleeting, there are things that endure.

And the greatest of these is Love.

So above all, Love often, Love boldly. Love never fails.

💜 Britnie

A little insight into the art of creating sand mandalas:

https://new.artsmia.org/hub/programming-events/tibetan-sand-mandala-history