On the final
day of his life, Zen Master Tanzan sat down and wrote sixty postcards.
When he
finished, he handed them to his attendant and said:
“Please send
these out.”
Then he
quietly passed away in peace.
On each
postcard, he had written only a few simple lines:
“I am about
to leave this world.
This is my
final notice.
— Tanzan,
July 27, 1892.”
For the Zen
master, death was not an ending, but a door opening into the boundless flow of
life.
He departed
as one sending a farewell —gentle, untroubled, without attachment or fear.
In those
postcards, there was no sorrow, only the light of understanding and serene
freedom.
Every day
around us are small reminders of impermanence —a loved one’s passing, a
withered flower,
The rain
just ceased, or a single breath fading softly within our chest.
Yet most of
us forget, living as though we will be here forever.
If we truly
contemplate death, not with fear, but with insight,
We come to
see that every remaining moment is a miracle.
When we
realize how fragile life is, we love more tenderly,
Forgive more
easily and live more fully with what is here and now.
Each day,
let us reflect on impermanence.
Each
morning, upon waking, ask yourself:
“If today
were the last day of my life, how would I live?”
There is no
need for anything grand —just return to the present moment:
listen to
the birds sing, feel the freshness of the air,
smile at the
person beside you and do each small task with a wholehearted mind.
When you
drink a sip of water, remember that this body too will dissolve, just like that
drop of water.
When you see
a falling leaf, smile —for it does not fall to disappear, but to return to the
earth,
continuing
life in another form.
Impermanence
takes nothing away from us; it only reminds us not to cling too tightly, and to
live deeply each moment we are given.
Like Zen
Master Tanzan,
when we
truly understand impermanence, death no longer frightens us —
because we
have already lived each moment completely alive.
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