I didn’t write that.

Shantideva did; an Indian philosopher, a Buddhist monk. He wrote it in the eighth century, but it is no less true today. Then, as now, people grow up, grow apart. People grow old. They die.

I, too, am a brief and passing thing.

Also Shantideva.

But it isn’t the idea of impermanence and death, exactly, that makes us miserable. It’s the fact that we pretend things are set in stone, when they’re not. We act like stuff doesn’t change when in fact, it’s changing all the time. Our bodies, our lives, our relationships aren’t carved in rock. It’s more like they’re clouds, flitting across the sky.

There are these two women I know, let’s call them ‘A’ and ‘B.’

A and B are sisters-in-law. They’re both lovely women: funny, gentle, generous. But put them together, and you hardly see any evidence of these qualities. Ask A about B and she becomes shrill and petty. Ask B about A, and she suddenly grows very dark.

A and B have fixed ideas about one another. While intellectually, they might understand that everything, that people are constantly changing, in practice they are rooted: loyal to an opinion they first formed about each other eight years ago.

Being fixed like that hurts. There’s a fancy word for it: shenpa. It’s probably only fancy to me because I’m not from Tibet. But the concept of shenpa can help us understand why we’re so uncomfortable around certain people (family), and why we fight so much.

A and B became family in 2008. Since then, they’ve each taken on different jobs and roles. They’ve moved cities. They’re both mothers now, both in their thirties, yet their opinions of one another haven’t allowed or accounted for any of these changes. The women themselves have evolved, but their opinions about each other have not.

In these eight years, they’ve each developed intense feelings in support of their competing opinions: feelings like anger, envy, possessiveness, self-righteousness. The Buddhists call strong emotions like these kleshas. Kleshas are often piercing and potent. They cloud good judgment.

They have little, if anything, to do with reality.

Each time A or B has given in to a klesha, it has strengthened, building in intensity. The image I have is of a snowball, rolling down an endless hill. As long as you are stuck seeing a person a certain way, the snowball keeps rolling: your emotion keeps building and you dig your heels in more and more; you keep filtering your experiences through the lens of your klesha. You will interpret everything, good or bad, in a way that is consistent with your pre-formed opinion. Being ‘right’ will become more important to you than being kind or compassionate or objective.

So what do we do about all this? What’s the way out for A and B? For all of us?

It’s actually quite simple.

It involves a basic recognition, and an acceptance of your limitations — the places you have become stuck. We have to be able to see our own shenpa, and the kleshas that have arisen for us, stubbornly, painfully, over the years. Just being aware that you’re uncomfortable, that something has been triggered in you, is a good place to start.

A and B, for instance, are stubborn about wanting things to be a certain way. They are each attached to the idea that they are right. That’s their shenpa.

Dzigar Kontrul is a Tibetan monk. He calls shenpa a ‘barometer of ego clinging,’ and a ‘gauge of our self-involvement and self-importance.’ It’s the feeling of ‘I hate’ or ‘I am right’ or ‘I want this to go away.’ It’s the feeling of getting stuck, getting hooked.

But if A and B could see what was happening, could identify their patterns of behavior; if they could step back, and away from their fixed positions, their opposing corners of the boxing ring, they might be able to see just how much suffering they’re causing, not just each other, but everyone around them.

If they could understand the responses they’re giving are stuck in the past, are rote and learned, ingrained and habitual, are— above all — unnecessary, they might gain a sense of perspective. They might be able to see themselves and each other in a way that is more forgiving, playful, compassionate. They might be able to realize that the opinions they’ve developed, and fueled with strong emotions over the years, are just that: opinions.

And they might be able to understand that being happy, being flexible, and open to change, all of that, is much, much more important than being ‘right.’