You're sitting in a coffee shop, and the steam is curling off your latte in these weird, ghostly patterns. It’s there, and then it’s gone. That’s the whole deal, right? We spend a massive amount of energy trying to make things permanent—careers, relationships, even our physical fitness—but the reality is that everything in life is just for a while. It’s a concept that sounds kind of depressing at first glance, but honestly, it’s the only thing that keeps us sane when things go sideways. If the bad stuff lasted forever, we’d be doomed. If the good stuff never ended, we’d probably stop noticing how good it actually is.
Take the Stoics. They were obsessed with this. Marcus Aurelius, the Roman Emperor who basically had everything a human could want, used to remind himself constantly that fame is just a "clack of tongues." He knew his reign, his body, and his city were temporary. This isn't just ancient philosophy or some "live, laugh, love" Pinterest quote. It’s a biological and physical reality. We call it entropy. Everything moves from order to disorder. Your favorite pair of jeans will eventually fray at the thighs. That "perfect" job will eventually have a reorganization that makes you want to pull your hair out.
The Psychological Weight of Impermanence
Psychologists often talk about the "hedonic treadmill." This is the idea that humans have a baseline level of happiness. We get a promotion? We’re stoked for a month, then we’re back to the baseline. We lose a job? It hurts like hell, but eventually, we adjust. This happens because everything in life is just for a while, including our emotional reactions. This is actually a survival mechanism. If we stayed at a 10/10 level of euphoria or a 0/10 level of despair indefinitely, our nervous systems would basically fry.
I remember reading about a study by Dan Gilbert, a Harvard psychologist. He looked at people who won the lottery and people who became paraplegic. A year later? Their happiness levels were surprisingly similar. The "while" of the tragedy and the "while" of the windfall had both leveled out.
Sometimes, we get stuck because we refuse to accept the "while" part. We cling to versions of ourselves that don't exist anymore. You aren't the same person you were at 22. Your cells have literally replaced themselves. Your taste buds have changed. You might even hate the music you used to blast in your car. Acknowledging that your current identity is a temporary lease helps you pivot when life forces a change.
The Myth of the "Forever" Career
People used to stay at companies for forty years. They’d get a gold watch and a pension. That’s not the world we live in now. The average person changes jobs about 12 times in their lifetime. Skill sets have a half-life. If you’re a coder, the language you’re an expert in today might be legacy code in five years.
Understanding that a career phase is just a season allows you to be more agile. You stop seeing a layoff as a personal failure and start seeing it as the natural end of a "while." It’s a shift from "why is this happening to me?" to "okay, that chapter is done, what’s the next one?"
Relationships and the "While" Factor
This is the hard part. No one wants to hear that their marriage or their friendship is "for a while." But even the most successful, lifelong partnerships end eventually. Death is the ultimate "while."
Does that make the love less real?
Actually, the opposite is true. If you knew your best friend was going to live forever, you might skip their call today. You'd think, "Eh, I'll catch them in 2145." The expiration date is what creates the value. In Japanese culture, there’s this concept called Mono no aware. It’s basically a pathos for things—an awareness of the impermanence of all things and a gentle sadness at their passing. It’s why people flock to see cherry blossoms. They only bloom for a week or two. If they were pink all year round, they’d just be weeds.
Parenting as a Series of Departures
If you have kids, you feel this more than anyone. You aren't raising a child; you’re raising a series of different people. The toddler who needs you to cut their grapes vanishes and is replaced by a grade-schooler who wants you to stay ten feet away at the bus stop. Then that person is replaced by a teenager, then an adult. Each stage is just for a while. If you try to hold onto the toddler phase when you have a teenager, you’re going to have a bad time.
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The grief of parenting is constant because you are always saying goodbye to a version of your child that will never exist again. But the joy is in the fact that you get to meet the new version.
Why We Fight the "While"
We are wired for stability. Our brains like patterns. Predictability feels like safety. So when we realize that everything in life is just for a while, it triggers a bit of an existential panic. We try to buy our way out of it. We buy "anti-aging" creams. We sign "permanent" contracts. We build monuments.
But look at the Ozymandias poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley. It’s about a traveler seeing a ruined statue in the desert. The pedestal says, "Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!" and yet, there’s nothing left but sand. The "while" of that empire ended a long time ago.
- The Comfort in the Temporary: When you’re in the middle of a panic attack, or a grief cycle, or a brutal workout, reminding yourself "this is just for a while" is a lifeline.
- The Warning in the Temporary: When you’re at the peak of your game, it’s a reminder to keep your ego in check and save some money for the inevitable dip.
Seasonal Living
Nature doesn't try to bloom all year. It understands cycles. Winter is necessary for spring. We, however, try to be in "spring" mode 24/7/365. We want constant growth, constant productivity, constant happiness. It’s exhausting. It’s also fake.
Sometimes you’re in a fallow season. Maybe you’re burnt out. Maybe you’re just bored. Instead of fighting it, what if you just accepted that this boredom is for a while? Most people fill every gap with scrolling on their phones because they can’t handle the "while" of a quiet moment. But the quiet is where the next big idea usually lives.
Actionable Ways to Embrace Impermanence
Stop trying to build a fortress. Start building a tent. It sounds weird, but a tent is easier to move when the weather changes. Here is how you actually apply the "everything is for a while" mindset without becoming a nihilist who stays in bed all day.
Audit your current "whiles." Look at your life right now. Your current fitness level. Your current friend group. Your current stress level at work. Label them. "This stress is for a while because we’re in the Q4 push." "This energy level is for a while because I’m training for a 5k." It de-escalates the drama.
Stop "waiting" for life to start. A lot of people think, "Once I get the house, then I'll be happy," or "Once the kids move out, then I'll travel." But those milestones are also just for a while. If you’re waiting for a permanent state of "arrived," you’re chasing a ghost.
Invest in experiences over things. It’s a cliché because it’s true. A physical object is a "while" that slowly degrades and takes up space. An experience is a "while" that turns into a memory, which has a much longer shelf life in your brain’s chemistry.
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Practice radical presence. If you truly believe that everything in life is just for a while, you stop checking your phone during dinner. You realize this specific configuration of people, at this specific table, with this specific food, will literally never happen again. Not ever.
The "Five-Year Test." When you’re spiraling over a mistake or a social awkwardness, ask if it will matter in five years. Usually, it won't even matter in five months. The "while" of that embarrassment is incredibly short.
The Flip Side of the Coin
Now, some people use this as an excuse to be a jerk. "Well, if everything is temporary, why bother being a good person?" That’s the wrong takeaway. Because the impact you have on others—even if the interaction is short—can ripple out. You’re only in that barista’s life for thirty seconds. That’s a very short "while." But if you’re a dick to them, they might carry that mood to the next ten customers.
The temporariness of life doesn't make it meaningless; it makes it urgent.
We aren't here to solve life. We aren't here to "beat" the clock. We’re here to participate in the "while." You’re a guest. Don’t try to own the hotel; just enjoy the room service while you're there.
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Next Steps for Today
- Identify one thing you are currently clinging to that is causing you stress. Acknowledge that this situation is not a permanent fixture of your universe.
- Take a "mental snapshot" of a mundane moment today—washing dishes, walking to the car—and remind yourself that even this boring bit is a temporary part of your story.
- Reach out to one person you value. Don't wait for a "better time" to connect, because the window of opportunity for that specific connection is always closing.
- Shift your language from "I am [State of Being]" to "I am experiencing [State of Being] for a while." You aren't "a failure"; you are experiencing a failure for a while. You aren't "depressed"; you are moving through a depressive episode for a while.
Everything changes. That is the only promise life actually keeps. Embrace the transition, because the "while" is all we've got.