By Jeremy Corey-Gruenes, Paths to Peace

My precocious 11 year-old nephew, Jasper, is one of my favorite people in the world. A few years ago he threw my brother for a loop at suppertime. Jeff had gone to the freezer in search of ice cream for dessert. When he dramatically brought out an empty container and feigned surprise and moral outrage because someone in his family had the audacity to eat the last of the ice cream and place the empty container back into the freezer, Jasper sat calmly at his seat and said, “I don’t see what the big deal is, Dad. It’s called impermanence.”

Remembering Jasper’s philosophical response to the ice cream’s disappearance is more than just entertainment for me. I find impermanence — the idea that nothing in this life lasts, that all things are transitory — fascinating. So much of what causes suffering and worry in our lives is linked to not being mindful of our fundamental impermanence.

Anyone following the Twins this season understands that impermanence can be hard to accept. With multiple playoff appearances and winning records 9 of the past 10 years, we have been spoiled. We no longer hope for winning seasons but expect them.

Last year’s opening of Target Field made winning even better. The euphoria of the new, beautiful ball park, coupled with the Twins winning their division again, was absolutely dreamy. This year we’ve learned that such euphoria is indeed impermanent.

As if I needed another reminder, Matt Capps served one up Saturday night in the form of a late-inning grand slam to blow the game. But impermanence reminds me that there’s always the next game, next series, next year. So I remain a committed fan. And ultimately, I guess, any suffering I experience because of the Twins’ losing ways is insignificant and silly compared to other real suffering I see around me.

I’ve had conversations over the years with students who feel hopeless because they don’t fit into the social scene at school. Some are simply socially awkward in a high school setting, where in other settings they’re just fine; sometimes they’re actually too mature to want to play, or even tolerate, the social games that go on among their peers.

For any number of reasons, high school hasn’t been a happy or satisfying experience for them. What’s worse, kids hear directly and indirectly that their high school years are the best years of their lives. Adolescent interpretation: If I’m not happy now, there’s something seriously wrong with me.

My advice to kids struggling with the high school scene is to remember that like all things, high school is impermanent. What you’re experiencing in this moment could be gone tomorrow, next month, next year. And everything changes at graduation. Your best years might be in your 40s — imagine that.

The other day, after hearing a great review on NPR, I started reading a book entitled “Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth” by Alexandra Roberts. Her basic point is the traits and quirks that make it hard for some kids to be accepted or popular in high school are the same traits and quirks that often lead to success beyond high school.

Tim Gunn, famous for his work in the fashion industry and in reality shows like “Project Runway,” was bullied in high school for being eccentric and creative, which later led to his professional success, wealth and celebrity. “Harry Potter” author J.K. Rowling was bullied for being a quiet, cerebral bookworm. And you see where that got her.

Moreover, Roberts’s work suggests that popularity in high school is not a reliable indicator of success beyond it.

As high school seniors around the country complete their remaining days of classes, mixed emotions abound. Pondering impermanence reminds us to cherish the good things and good people in our lives today because we cannot know what our relationships with them will be in the future. It reminds parents to cherish those last months with their graduates and not to hang on too tightly as they leave the nest. It reminds everyone that whether the present moment is dominated by happiness, suffering, or a mixture of both, it won’t always be.

As I ask aloud, “Why does the Twins’ bullpen have to break my heart again?” as my fellow teachers consider the multitude of changes we face in the coming months due to our district’s realignment, and as our graduates meet misty-eyed loved ones at commencement, we might do well to think, “What’s the big deal? It’s called impermanence.”

Jeremy Corey-Gruenes lives in Albert Lea with his wife and two young daughters. He is a member of the Albert Lea High School English Department and can be reached at jcorey2@gmail.com.