We live in a world that is constantly changing. Time is cyclical, moving like the seasons: arriving, staying for a while, and then passing on. Everything we see today will be gone tomorrow. The world, in that sense, is only a passing scene that we witness briefly.
Yet, we often mistake this scene for permanence. We become so involved in what is unfolding before us that we begin to believe it will last forever. This creates an illusion of permanence, an illusion that is far from reality.
Life unfolds in phases. Each phase brings its own roles, emotions, successes, and failures. However, sometimes we become so deeply absorbed in one phase that we start to identify ourselves with it. If I am the CEO of a company, it is rather a phase in my life, yet while living it, I may forget that it will pass. The role begins to feel permanent. In the same way, repeated failure, such as not clearing interviews, can dominate the mind so completely that I may start believing, “My life is a failure.” This too is untrue, because no phase, pleasant or painful, is permanent. Every phase must pass. Such identification with a single phase of life denies the ever-changing reality of the world.
Bhagwan Krishna explains this truth in the
Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 2, Shloka 14:
मात्रास्पर्शास्तु कौन्तेय शीतोष्णसुखदु:खदा: |
आगमापायिनोऽनित्यास्तांस्तितिक्षस्व भारत ||
Translation:
O son of Kunti, the contact between the senses and the sense objects gives rise to fleeting experiences of happiness and distress. These are non-permanent; they come and go like winter and summer. O descendant of Bharat, learn to endure them without being disturbed.
The wisdom here is simple yet profound: moments are temporary, and they are meant to pass. Those who become entangled in moments suffer deeply from pleasure and pain alike. But those who witness moments without clinging allow them to pass without regret and welcome new ones without expectation. Such awareness brings balance, because it recognises that every experience has a beginning and an end.
Consider immersive theatre, where actors move among the audience. At different points, actors perform scenes in separate rooms, and the audience follows them. Each viewer sees only the scene unfolding in front of them, unaware of what is happening elsewhere. This is different from traditional theatre, where all scenes are visible on one stage.
Life is similar. When we follow one scene too closely, we forget that many other scenes are unfolding simultaneously. We begin to feel like characters trapped within a single storyline. But when we step back and witness, clarity emerges. We realise that we are not the scene; we are the observer of it.
A fish living in water may believe that there is no world beyond water. The boatman, however, knows that water is only one part of a vast universe that includes earth, sky, sun, moon, and stars. This difference arises from distance - the ability to see a scene without being immersed in it. This capacity to witness, rather than be absorbed, brings clarity and freedom.
Rumi beautifully captures it in this quote: “Why are you so busy with this or that, or good or bad? Pay attention to how things blend.” He reminds us to observe without judgment, to watch how scenes arise, change, merge, and dissolve.
The world is not what it appears to be, fixed and permanent. It is an ever-changing flow of scenes. When we stop becoming part of every scene and instead learn to witness them, we begin to understand life as it truly is: a passing play, observed by a silent and enduring presence within us.
Elixir:
"Life is a passing scene. Suffering begins when we mistake a phase for our identity, and freedom begins when we remember we are the witness."
(Expressed opinions are personal)