WHEN I was younger, I focused much of my attention on whether or not something was permanent—so much so that I often forgot to enjoy the value of those that were temporary. Whether it was a relationship, my time at a place, or even a memory, impermanence consumed me. The desire for stability often overshadowed my appreciation for the fleeting joy each moment brought.

After having spent eight years of my childhood in Thailand, my family planned moving back to the Philippines. My whole life felt as though it were about to be uprooted with no good meaning. The constants in my life—friendships, house, and school—suddenly seemed to be on a timer nearing its end. I developed a mentality that if I knew something was temporary, there would be no purpose putting my energy into it.

For the next few weeks, I distanced myself from everything I had believed I could not keep, attempting to stop the timer before it could go off. I tried everything I could to protect myself from the hurt I had known and felt once I left.

I did not realize it then, but my actions simply rendered my last moments in Thailand—a place I considered home—wasted. All of my efforts were in vain. Despite how much I attempted to ignore it, the move to Manila hit me hard. I cried every day, stubbornly denying the fact that my life had changed. I saw no purpose in getting accustomed to my environment, and the idea of befriending others seemed equally unnecessary. The fear of having everything taken away from me again haunted me, so I isolated myself in the hopes that I would not have to repeat that experience of hurt.

I soon learned that this practice was not a sustainable solution. After months of self-isolation, cracks started to form in the shield I had created. I found myself wrapped in warm embraces and caught in lively conversations with the people surrounding me. Amid these moments, I felt that my protective bubble was just waiting to pop.

I started to enjoy the environment that I had so greatly resisted. No matter how hard I had hoped, change was inevitable, and there was nothing I could do but learn adapting to it. I came to realize the paradox that the impermanent nature of life would never change. It paved the way for me to experience new things and meet new people.

Instead of lamenting such changes, I began to appreciate the new experiences coming my way. I began to see that change is not all that bad—it helped me grow into who I am today. Without it, I would not have learned what I know, connected with whom I love, nor would I have experienced the multitude of journeys that brought me to where I am right now. Beyond lessons, I have experienced amazing moments with people that I know I would carry with me wherever I go.

Just like the changing of the seasons, our lives switch directions, sometimes without warning. When they do, we may embrace the change or end up rejecting it, chasing after seemingly fleeting moments of happiness in hopes of making what is impermanent, permanent. We run after these memories, trying to immortalize them in our photographs or writing.

However, maybe it is the transient nature of fleeting moments that makes them special. After all, if seasons were everlasting, would we still admire the different colors of autumn leaves?

Annika Maria Victoria M. de la Fuente is a sophomore taking BFA Information Design at the Ateneo de Manila University. Through her designs, she hopes to communicate visual stories effectively. With a strong foundation in design knowledge, her goal is to create compelling and reader-centric publication materials.

Editor’s Note: The views and opinions expressed by the opinion writer do not necessarily state or reflect those of the publication.