Trains and the Buddhist Principle of Impermanence

Look out a train window long enough and you start to notice a rhythm: stations arrive, doors open, people step in and out, and then — almost too quickly — everything slides into the past. Faces blur into fields, crossings, and towns you’ll likely never see again. 🚆

That rhythm feels like a quiet teacher. In Buddhism, this idea has a name: impermanence — or anicca (pronounced ah-NEE-cha) — the truth that everything changes.

Trains just make it obvious.

Two perspectives on the same journey

When I think about impermanence, I picture two viewpoints at once:

• The passenger, carried forward — watching the world stream by.
• The spectator at a crossing, feeling the rush and the stillness as the train passes.

Both are true. Both are fleeting. Even something as grand as a train exists in motion — arriving and leaving, never holding still for long. And yet, trains are deeply useful; they connect people and places and make progress practical. That paradox is the core lesson: change doesn’t diminish meaning — it enables it.

Applying the lesson to people and moments

When I meet someone who’s hard to deal with, I remind myself I’m on my train. This moment is one stop among many. Some people journey with us for a while; others are faces at a crossing. When we move past that intersection, they’re behind us — and that’s okay. The point isn’t to detach from people; it’s to hold space for them without clinging to how we wish they’d be.

Impermanence softens our grip. It invites compassion and boundaries at the same time.

Cherish what’s here, because it won’t stay

The flip side of letting go is leaning in. Good conversations. Shared meals. Quiet sunsets from a window seat. We don’t keep any of it, but we can fully experience it.

quote

“This too shall pass.”

That applies to the tough moments and the beautiful ones. The memories and relationships we build often last longer than the moments themselves — and sometimes, they shape entire chapters of our lives.

Practicing impermanence in ordinary days

I guess if I had to put it into practice, it would be four simple ways to live this out:

• Name and notice: When you feel stuck, quietly label the moment — “passing through.” It helps your mind release the need to control.
• Make micro-goodbyes: Finish a call, close a tab, end a meeting — take a breath and mentally let it go.
• Photograph with your mind: Pretend you’re a photographer for three seconds. What detail will you remember? Light through a window, a laugh, a line from a song.
• Hold lightly, appreciate fully: Enjoy what’s here without gripping it. Gratitude over grasping.

Trains teach us a gentle truth: everything arrives, everything departs. If we can meet each stop with presence — and let the last one go — we travel lighter, see more, and miss less.