Impermanence and the Paradox of Being/Becoming

Read time 5 minutes. Impermanence is a stand alone article in our series regarding paradox.

In our last lesson, we explored the paradox of everything and nothing, of absence and presence. Today we turn to another paradox: presence itself—not as the presence or absence of a thing, but as it relates to time, to this fleeting moment.

Here the problem begins. The moment we try to get present, we slip into becoming. The moment we try to stay present, we lose what presence actually is. And all of it is revealed in the light of impermanence.

Impermanence dissolves illusion

The teachings remind us again and again that experience is illusory. Yet some things are relatively more real than others. A trip to the zoo is more real than the memory of the trip. Much of Zen training is simply teaching our awareness to incline toward what is more real—step by step, degree by degree.

But what does impermanence have to do with this? And why does it matter to paradox?

Modern teachings often emphasize the present moment. Rightly so. But hidden inside that emphasis is a duality: being and becoming. The moment we make an effort to be present, we’re already in becoming. Time enters the picture, and presence is lost.

Impermanence is the great reconciler. When we accept impermanence, paradoxically, true presence opens. Being and becoming are unified at their root.

The dance of duality

Recall the yin/yang symbol. A reminder that dual forces are not just opposed but interdependent, component parts of a larger whole.

Nothing is ever fully yin or fully yang. Everything is flux. Yin is always shading into yang, yang into yin. A lava lamp etched with the yin/yang symbol might capture this truth better than the rigid line drawings we usually see.

We forget this when we label something as all good or all bad. We forget impermanence.

Time/becoming and presence/being follow the same law. Yet every time we strive to get present, we make them exceptions. We miss the rhythm.

Imagine a teeter totter. On one side: time/becoming. On the other: presence/being. At the pivot point sits impermanence, and the ups and downs only disappear at that center.

The only constant is change

Here is where confusion creeps in. We think presence itself is the pivot. But presence/being is just a concept, another idol. We endow it with permanence it doesn’t have. Yes, being is immediate. But the present moment is constant flux—arising, passing, arising again.

Time is clearly illusory—past and future exist only in thought. But presence can be illusory too. When we treat it as a fixed state, we’ve already frozen it. And nothing is ever frozen. True presence is always morphing. Impermanence is the reality we are reaching for when we chase presence.

This is why Zen speaks in paradox. You can’t describe the pivot between being and becoming. You can only hint at it: the only constant is change.

Try to step firmly into being, and you slide back into becoming. Say, “I am going to get present,” and you’ve already cast yourself into the future. Thought takes over. And where thought dominates, ego lurks. Ego loves being—the identity of “I am the one who is present.”

It can sound complicated. And maybe it is—because we are speaking about the foundation stones of illusion. Yet the solution remains simple. Step into direct, authentic experience. That’s the pivot.

Bias amplifies the illusion

The trouble begins when presence becomes a false idol. We turn a mental construct into an absolute. We pretend Tao can be captured by a concept. In doing so, we deny the wholeness that Tao actually is.

Bias enters. The present is good. The past and future are bad. We cling to savoring the moment, as though impermanence were a thief lurking at the door. But that vision of presence is idealistic, and idealism inevitably becomes grasping.

The past and future are not demons to reject. The present is not a prize to cling to. All three are illusions when frozen. The mind creates borders, and borders hide Tao.

The field of impermanence

Being and becoming are both expressions of impermanence. As separate concepts, they’re one step removed. Impermanence itself is more real.

True presence is timeless. It is awareness itself—the field in and out of which everything appears. Presence is not something we discover; it is what we are. And this presence is only revealed through impermanence, because impermanence holds being and becoming together.

Think of joy and sorrow. Without sorrow, joy would be meaningless. Each gives the other context. Impermanence—the constant arising and passing—reveals the preciousness of moments. It prods us to cherish life. But not the moments themselves, which vanish. What endures is awareness.

To be truly present is to experience being and becoming simultaneously. That paradox is liberation. It releases us from the impossible task of control. We no longer cling to stillness or chase after flux. We sit at the pivot, right in the center.

From that seat, the ups and downs pass by. The ride continues, but the grip of illusion loosens. And in its place, the magic of existence unfolds.

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🌀 From the GZM Archives – Polished, Preserved, Still Relevant.