Wisdom From Our UU College Students:
Impermanence

A Sermon by College Student Karen Spangler
Delivered at First UU Church Ann Arbor
1/22/05

	As college students, impermanence is a fact of life.  We knew from the beginning 
that this stage of our lives would be temporary, and we would have to move on to other 
things.  Many adults tell me that it is a great time, a really fun time, the best time of your 
life.  The unexpected result of this is a certain pressure to make the most of this 
experience.  How do we balance the “fun of the college experience” against working 
toward goals for the future?  

	Often, we don’t really know what our future will be.  I certainly don’t.  I chose 
my anthropology major as soon as I entered school, and I enjoy it.  But I don’t know what 
kind of job it will lead me to, or whether I should go to graduate school, or if I want to go 
to graduate school.  These decisions are compounded by the fact that questions about 
your major and your future are the only ones adults really know how to ask you about.  I 
don’t know!  Even the people closest to me don’t know!  Daily, we have to live with 
these uncertainties.

	Our very lifestyle centers around the impermanence of our situation—and I don’t 
just mean the ugly plastic furniture that’s lightweight and easy to move.  Each year of 
college, I’ve lived in a new place.  Last year alone I lived in a dorm, a house, and moved 
into my apartment.  Each semester, our classes and schedules can change dramatically, 
wreaking havoc with routine.  

	How does the fact of impermanence affect our lives?  I like to think it reminds us 
to be happy in the moments we have.  My roommates are graduating and moving away 
after this summer; it makes me sad, and it reminds me to value the time we just sit around 
discussing, cooking, watching tv, and gossiping—ok, that’s mainly me. 
 
	We knew beforehand that this experience would not last forever; we were warned 
of its impermanence.  Sometimes I can’t wait to settle in one house, one job, to have a 
less temporary existence.  But so many things, in all of our lives, are impermanent.  The 
time you spend at a certain job, in your current house, with your relatives, are subject to 
change.  Our own lives, and the lives of those we love, are temporary. 
 
	These facts all carry differing degrees of sadness—certainly the death of a loved 
one in no way compares to how much I’ll miss my apartment when I have to move.  But 
the smaller facts of impermanence can prepare us for larger experiences of valuing the 
moment for its brief beauty, and then letting go.    


Copyright 2006, Karen Spangler, All Rights Reserved