The Permanence of Impermanency
It’s summer here in Canada, and I’ve gifted myself a new kind of summer experience: my own version of summer camp.
Rather than staying at our ever-nourishing family farm full-time, I’ve chosen a semi-reclusive rhythm by settling into a little cabin on a friend’s property. I say “semi-reclusive” because I still plan to return to the farm a couple of times a month to spend time with my daughter, her family, and all the animals. Honestly, I’ve lost count of how many goats and chickens we have now, and this past month, three cows delivered the most beautiful calves. There’s always something blossoming there.
I’ve been at the cabin for just over two weeks now and am beginning to feel at home. Yesterday, I spent a good chunk of time learning to be patient with myself while assembling a laptop desk, office chair and plant shelf. For most people, it might have been a quick job. For me? Let’s just say it was a slow and slightly comedic bonding experience with an Allen key and screwdriver.
Any other kindred spirits out there who break into a cold sweat at the sight of flat-packed furniture?
I’ve come to accept that I’m not exactly handy and that’s okay. Still, I wanted to create a little “office” space here, so I gave it a go. And I’m quite pleased with the result.

I’ve come to accept that I’m not exactly handy and that’s okay. Still, I wanted to create a little “office” space here, so I gave it a go. After surviving the Great Assembly Challenge, I felt the final product earned a starring role as this post’s featured image!
This morning, while sipping tea and journaling, something interesting surfaced. Even though I was so pleased with my furniture assembly achievements, a part of me was feeling unsettled. I went into Heart Metta mode and discovered I had a part yearning for permanency. For the past 23 years, “home” has been wherever I hang my hat. I’ve always been good at settling in, whether it’s crashing on a friend’s couch, house-sitting, staying in hotels, or luxuriating in a peaceful Airbnb. I love having that freedom to roam.
So where was this sudden ache for permanence coming from?
I went deeper with Heart Metta and tuned into the voice of that wistful part. What I heard surprised me:
“You are always on the move, you only stay in one place for a matter of months at best!”
That landed. I followed the thread and traced it back to when I was unexpectedly uprooted from Canada as a child, suddenly on a boat to Hong Kong with my mother and siblings, no warning, no goodbyes. That early disruption shaped so much of how I relate to home and movement. I’ll share more about that chapter another time, and what I will say now is that event led to my not seeing my father for 43 years. Life brought us back together in a remarkable way, and I was at his bedside when he passed just months after we reunited. There was closure.
I’m sharing all this as a reminder that we are layered beings. Who would have thought putting together a few pieces of furniture would bring up so much? I’m deeply grateful for Heart Metta. It helped me meet this tender part with compassion. She’s settled now. She understands that impermanency is, in its own way, permanent. And with that, all parts of me are on board for this next chapter.
What has impermanency stirred in you lately?
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