On Transience

Sunny winter days are always deceptive.
Your spirits fly towards the blue sky and all of a sudden are blown askance by the strong gusts of invisible wind.
I gulp in the air like I haven't breathed it in months.
The cell phone beeps underneath my pillow where I stashed it, muffling its last breaths.
It cries quietly and startles me.

Awake.
10:52. What does that mean? Where am I? Why am I facing the opposite direction that I normally sleep? These thoughts are left clinging to the covers as I fling them aside and run out the door.
Come along, Wade. I meant to look at you early today.
7:02 was when it last beeped.

Rush.
Out the door.
Wind.
Invisible.
Blur.
No scarf.
11:11.
Make a wish?

The aging grey man at the front of the room was elaborating on the meaning of Dharma and the Ultimate Reality. I caught his last few words before the click.
New slide.
11:46 and he talks about the concept of transience.
He gives an example of the hectic lives of university students.
My ears perked up themselves.
"I know you probably have three exams next week, along with the paper I've assigned. You have to realize that this is a series of exams in a long line of exams before and after this moment and that this moment is transient. You will continue to take exams, and graduate, and be tested. You will continue to go through these transient stages, until you die, and then you realize that life itself is just a transient stage in the greater realm of things and understanding."

Silence. Chewing. Digesting. Thinking.
Controversial.
I don't believe in the Christian idea of heaven and I don't like denominational religion for many reasons.
Disagree. Your own free will.
World religions are fascinating because not one of them is fully correct, but if you melt them all together in a giant vat and scoop out a ladle-full, it's something closer to truth.
Does truth matter?
I don't know. I don't think I care either. It just is.

Buddha. Lao fo ye. Huge earlobes dangling past the chin.
Printing. Scribbling notes in deep blue ink.
Turn the page loudly in the 6th row back where I can hear clearer than ever.
Sound flows in an interesting manner.

Zen.
Calm.
What is stress? I seem to have forgotten.
It's all okay.
Because all things come to pass.
11:58.
Like time.
Sightless gust, beating away at faces and limbs with impunity.
11:59.
Like wind.

Like us.