Mono no aware is a Japanese phrase meaning “the pathos of things,” signifying an awareness of the impermanence of things and life in general.1
Sunt lacrimae rerum is a Latin phrase taken from Virgil’s Aeneid, meaning “there are tears for/of things.” It is uttered by Aeneas when he comes across a mural of the Trojan War, which he has just escaped from. His full statement is “Sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt,” or “There are tears of/for things and mortal things touch the mind.”2
I came across these two phrases a while ago and was struck by their intriguing duality. Things are impermanent, yet they often cause real and raw emotions. The vicissitudes of life “touch the mind” of those who experience them. Often our desire is to escape this touch. This attempted escape can take many forms of varying extremeness, ranging from eating too much or spending too much time on social media to bleak apathy or even suicide. And all this is caused in large part by impermanent things.
Juxtaposing these two phrases led me to some interesting thoughts. Initially, my first conclusion was that because things are impermanent, they need not cause tears—bringing to mind the oft-quoted aphorism “This too shall pass.” But what’s perhaps most intriguing to me about this combination of ideas is that, in a way, it actually refutes this conclusion, because mortal things do touch the mind. The feelings caused by the impermanent things of life are profoundly real, notwithstanding their impermanence.
In addition, the impermanence of things is itself a thing that touches the mind—mono no aware connotes a quiet solemnity or sadness in considering the impermanence of things. This somberness occurs because the impermanence touches us.
We often respond to that impermanence with attachment. Ironically, we hold on too tightly to things in an attempt to avoid losing them, and because of this attachment, we experience loss—we lose the richness of the present to our fear, and we lose peace within ourselves.3
Ephemeral yet visceral
Thus, I believe that we can, with effort, simultaneously acknowledge both the visceral reality of our suffering and its ephemeral nature. By doing so, we can recognize the beauty in both the things of life and the emotions those things often evoke. We can recognize that we are not our emotions; rather, we observe, experience, and influence our emotions just as we observe, experience, and influence things. I believe that mindfully experiencing both our emotions and the things around us in this way allow us to cope with our “tears of things” in healthier ways than we might otherwise.
Mindfulness also enables us to let go of our attachment to impermanent things and replace it with gratitude. We can fully feel the emotions—both good and bad—brought by the impermanent things, and then allow the emotions and eventually the things themselves to pass on. We can feel grateful for the emotions we experienced, rather than inflicting more suffering upon ourselves because of our attachment.
Furthermore, the richest and most rewarding experiences—and those that are, I believe, the least ephemeral in terms of their impact on us and their reality—are our relational experiences, which are themselves deepened through this profound acknowledgement of both emotions and things.
As C. Terry Warner writes in Bonds That Make Us Free:
Things, events, and experiences [including emotions] have no value in and of themselves; rather, they get their value from the critical role they play in our relationships with others.
Permanence moved by impermanence
Finally, I found these two ideas—the concept of ephemerality and the struggle we have in dealing with the emotions caused by ephemeral things—evocative of an interesting corollary idea: if we can only know things through contrast and opposition (as 2 Nephi 2:11 says), perhaps the fact that we are profoundly aware of and moved by impermanence is an indication that we are permanent.
This idea was captured beautifully by Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf in April 2014:
Is it any wonder that whenever we face the bitter endings of life, they seem unacceptable to us? There seems to be something inside of us that resists endings. Why is this? Because we are made of the stuff of eternity. We are eternal beings, children of the Almighty God, whose name is Endless and who promises eternal blessings without number. Endings are not our destiny.”
What are your experiences with ephemerality and “tears of things?” How has your awareness of impermanence or the reality of your emotions impacted you?
Footnotes
-
This interesting concept of loss because of attachment was something my wife Evelyn pointed out. I am grateful for her wisdom! ↩
Comments
0 comments
0 replies