Issue No. 23

As a kid, I cherished playing in the rain with my friends, oblivious to the sorry state of the waterlogged concrete street or the biting chill in the air. We reveled in our joy, free from the burdens of life, fully present and alive. Our parents often objected, but our cuteness and plaintive cries eventually won them over. We were young masters of manipulation.

In the midst of the downpour, my friends and I would engage in various games - chasing each other, leaping over bewildered dogs, pretending to swim on the wet pavement, or huddling beneath a dilapidated gutter for an impromptu shower of grime and who-knows-what. Yet, what I cherished most was when we sat on the bare ground, drenched in rain, wearing nothing but our shorts.

We would engage in nonsensical conversations, chuckling over the same cartoons we'd seen countless times, teasing each other about school crushes. There was rarely a moment of silence among us, except when it came to me.

Even as a child, I was extraordinarily observant. While my friends chatted away, I'd often listen intently, studying their expressions. But beyond this, I harbored a deeper understanding of life's transient nature, a quality uncommon in most children. I was acutely aware of the inexorable march of time. I had so much awareness that at times, I'd find myself fixated on something as mundane as my own breathing or blinking, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else.

When I acknowledged time's passage, a peculiar blend of emotions welled up within me, devoid of bitterness. It was accompanied by an overwhelming sense of gratitude. The Japanese have a term for this precise sentiment: "Mono No Aware," signifying the pathos of things or the awareness of impermanence.

Picture this: You're thoroughly enjoying a moment with friends, perhaps at a gathering, a party, or on a trip. You're deeply immersed in the joy of the present, laughing, and smiling without a care for time. Then, suddenly, it dawns on you that time is slipping away. The laughter and merriment are slowly fading into the past, but you're still in the present, clinging to the remnants of joy. It's as if you're experiencing a bittersweet nostalgia for the future, even as it unfolds before your eyes, knowing that it will soon become a memory.

That's precisely how I felt while watching my friends converse in the midst of the rain. It happened in the blink of an eye, just like all those years that had rushed by, compressed into a single fleeting moment. Soon, this moment would be a memory too. Just like our lives, your life, and the lives of everyone on this planet. We each have just one life, and sometimes it's absurd to contemplate how we squander it. One moment, we were carefree children dancing in the rain, and now we find ourselves grappling with taxes and laundry at 1:00 in the morning. The inexorable passage of moments is a melancholic facet of reality, but it's also an opportunity for growth and progress.

Without the impermanence of things, life would stagnate and wither, devoid of the chance to evolve. That would be a far bleaker world indeed.