A Way of Seeing – Love and Change

I love you, sweetheart.
Don’t you ever change on me,
Or so goes my love.
Donkon Jaan

    Dear reader, I hope you will appreciate how hard it was to fit the above into haiku’s 5-7-5 syllable pattern.  I do not think I have ever called anyone sweetheart except in a joking manner, but if it will work in the haiku, then I will use it.  Of course, I hope even more that what I have to say about the subject of love and change will get you to think about both subjects.

    Mark Twain had something like the following to say about marriage and change:  Men marry hoping that their wives will never change; women, expecting to change their husbands.  Both, of course, are nearly always bound to be disappointed; men, because their wives will indeed change, women, because their husbands seldom change in the way they want.  No one will remain as young and physically attractive as they were when they got married.  No one’s habits are easily changed.

    However, maybe love and change are more closely related, or condition each other more, than we first realize.  I have never thought of it in this way before, but it might be the case that we come to love, or fall in love with, someone, because we fear change.  Does that seem farfetched?  If we have a partner who changes along with us, albeit primarily in a physical way, then we might not notice as much the fact that we ourselves are growing old, that is, growing closer to death.  Maybe that is farfetched.  As you might have noticed, I am thinking as I am writing.

    In Buddhism, change is the constant.  Everything is subject to change and everything changes.  We all know that, but the reality is that we often do not want things to change.  Depending on how strongly we feel about it, so much do we suffer when things do change.  The converse is also true; we suffer when things do not change when we want them to change, or when they change in a way we do not want.  It should not be necessary to give examples of these changes; we encounter them everyday in both major and minor ways.

    The last line of my haiku – or so goes my love - has at least a couple meanings.  The first one I had in mind was, in line with Twain’s words, if you change, my love will leave.  As I thought about it, however, another meaning came to mind, or perhaps it was an extension of the first.  My love is like this:  If you ever change in a way that displeases me, or maybe even, if you ever change in any way, I will withdraw my love.  You might think, “Well, that’s not really love.  It’s not true love.”  Of course, it isn’t.  The question is whether what you profess to be your love is this kind of love or whether it can indeed be called true love, one that is presumably not so fickle, not so changeable.

    Love is a tremendous force in our lives, whether it is true or false, because, although it demands a negation of self if true, which is what Buddhism is all about, when false, when ego-centered, it causes a tremendous amount of suffering.

    Change is a tremendous force in our lives, if only because our way of seeing it determines to a great extent, if not totally, how we will see our lives and what we will do with them.  Change is a given; nothing remains static.  Life is impermanent.

    It would be great if we were able truly to love both because and in spite of all the changes we will live through.  I hope it is not as elusive for you as is enlightenment, or Shinjin.  Give it some thought.

Gassho,

Donkon Shaku Jaan

Rev. John Doami