Impermanent Beauty

As I look out our new kitchen window a muted pop interrupts my day dream of future gardens. I don’t have to look down to know that I should have been more attuned to the task in my hands. I sigh, and see I have indeed broken the pysanky egg I had been working on for half the day. Motifs of wheat, intricate borders and symbols of the sun interrupted by a fissure that circumnavigates this little talisman, bright sunny yoke spill out in all directions filling the cup below. The cup receives this bounty with equanimity, it has no care how the internal contents come to it. 

Maybe I added the air too quickly in my bid to rid the little cell of its perishable innards as I planned new beds and counted seeds in my head. Perhaps I left it a minute too long in the vinegar that last dunk, exacerbating a previous flaw in the shell. For every colorful, tediously decorated orb I produce each year, at least as many go the way of this one. 

A failed attempt at art, but a successful demonstration of life. 

There is no anger or frustration anymore when these things happen, it’s why I work three or four eggs at once. Laying wax over bright shades while others wait in their colorful baths, all of us dancing together in a celebration of spring. The transformative and tricky nature of craft like Pysanky has always motivated me to attempt such techniques. The humility and surrender to the process are as much a part of any success as knowing when the wax is hot enough to flow from the kistka or where the candle flame is the hottest to heat the little crucible. 

The attrition of my efforts is a matter of course if I want to participate in this ancient celebration of the hens coming back into their season of daily laying. It is a stark reminder that all things are temporary and that impermanence both in form and season is the only constant in life. Existence creates and destroys in equal measure and bearing witness to it is also a temporary blessing. I try to occupy a space where these finalities are not upsetting, but welcome. If I choose, I can find tremendous reassurance in the consistency of worldly change. 

This is a privileged position to be able to feel. I am not embattled in a protracted situational conflict as many in the world currently are. It is another sad, but seemingly inevitable truth about the culture that modern humans have created. The last few millennia seem to be filled with violence inspired by the myth of scarcity. The earth has always provided its inhabitants with enough, but the wendigo sickness of humanity has turned rivers red with blood and earth so polluted it can only bear poisonous fruit. 

I can naively hope for rebirth, the renewal of spring celebrated by the craft of pysanky. These little talismans represent the dreams and intentions for the coming seasons. They are colorful little prayers of protection for home, family, crops and critters. I am most grateful for the lessons of impermanence and practice of non-attachment I’ve learned through this yearly practice. Many of the best eggs I ever created have not made it to the end of the process intact, they still brought blessings to me with their reminders of the fragility of life and the beauty of impermanence. 

Happy Easter to all who celebrate! May we all revel in the renewal of spring.

Be well and thank you for reading.