There are times when the noise of the world—the power games, the iron fists, the declarations of permanence—becomes deafening. And in those moments, I’m reminded of how many have come before, how many have tried to hold onto power as if it were theirs to keep.
To Donald Trump, Elon Musk, Vladimir Putin, Viktor Orbán, Benjamin Netanyahu, Kim Jong Un, Isaias Afewerki, Xi Jinping, Alexander Lukashenko, Ali Khamenei, the House of Saud, Nicolás Maduro, and the many others like them, now or in ages past:
You are not permanent.
As so many have said over thousands of years, all is change. All is in flux. What is today will not be tomorrow—including you.
1900 years ago, the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius, ruler of a vast empire, wrote the following note to himself—not to flatter the ego, but to temper it:
"The wind scatters one year's leaves on the ground... so it is with the generations of men. Your children are no more than 'leaves'. 'Leaves' too, these loud voices of loyal praise, these curses from your opponents, this silent blame or mockery: mere 'leaves' likewise those with custody of your future fame. All these 'come round in the season of spring'; but then the wind blows them down, and the forest 'puts out others' in their stead. All things are short-lived - this is their common lot - but you pursue likes and dislikes as if all was fixed for eternity. In a little while you too will close your eyes, and soon there will be others mourning the man who buried you."
And again, from his Meditations, another timely reminder:
"Reflect often on the speed with which all things in being, or coming into being, are carried past and swept away. Existence is like a river in ceaseless flow, its actions a constant succession of change, its causes a constant succession of change, its causes innumerable in their variety: scarcely anything stand still, even what is most immediate. Reflect too on the yawning gulf of past and future time, in which all things vanish. So in all this, it must be folly for anyone to be puffed with ambition, racked in struggle, or indignant at his lot - as if this was anything lasting or likely to trouble him for long.
Think of the whole of existence, of which you are the tiniest part; think of the whole of time, in which you have been assigned a brief and fleeting moment; think of destiny - what fraction of that are you?"
These are not words meant to shame, but to awaken. To call forth the possibility of humility in the face of something far greater than self-preservation or legacy. We each have been given a tiny moment. The question is not how long we can stretch it—but what we do with it.
Another voice from the past—Rumi—reminds us with gentleness and fire:
"Try not to resist the changes that come your way. Instead, let life live through you."
And from Lao Tzu, this truth, so easy to dismiss, so hard to live:
"Those who know do not speak. Those who speak do not know."
Power, praise, punishment, propaganda—none of it lasts. The wind takes it all. The forest always grows new leaves.
So why cling?
Let the moment you have be one of grace, not grasping. One of service, not dominion. One of awakening, not ambition.
Because soon enough, even those who now shout your name—whether in reverence or in rage—will themselves be gone, and new leaves will fall.
—
Written in the spirit of remembering what matters.
All things change. Even emperors.
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