The Three Marks of Existence

One of the things Buddhism asks of us is to look at our experience as it is, before rushing to explain it.

Looking this way, the Buddha pointed to three characteristics that recur in everything we encounter: impermanence (Anicca), dukkha (Dukkha), and not-self (Anattā).

These are called the three marks of existence.

They aren’t ideas you’re asked to believe. In a sense, they’re three invitations to look closely: Do things really stay as they are? Can something that’s changing offer lasting security? And within everything we call “I,” can we find anything fixed that doesn’t change?

1. Impermanence — Anicca

The first mark is perhaps the easiest to see: everything that arises changes.

The body changes. The weather changes. Relationships change. Sensations appear and disappear. Thoughts arrive and are replaced by others.

Even as you read this sentence, things are changing. The breath that was here a moment ago has already ended. Sounds appear and vanish. A sensation in the body grows stronger, weakens, or shifts location.

We know, of course, that things change. And yet much of our lives run as if they’re supposed to stay. When something feels good, we want it to last. When we find something we love, we want to hold onto it. When we build ourselves an identity — who I am, what I do, who I belong to — we want to believe that it, too, is stable.

But impermanence isn’t a flaw in reality. It’s reality’s nature. And this is true not only of the things we want to keep. Pain changes too. So does fear. So do periods that seem like they’ll never end.

Impermanence is the reason we lose things. It’s also the reason something new can appear.

2. Dukkha

The word Dukkha is often translated as “suffering,” but that translation can mislead.

Dukkha certainly includes pain, illness, loss, and death. But it also points to something subtler: our inability to find lasting satisfaction and security within things that are changing.

A good meal can be wonderful. A relationship can bring great love. Success can make us happy. Buddhism doesn’t say these things are bad, or that we shouldn’t enjoy them.

The trouble starts when we ask of them something they can’t give us: to stay. The meal ends. The good feeling passes. Relationships change. The body ages. Even when we get exactly what we wanted, sooner or later the experience shifts and we start wanting something else.

So dukkha isn’t only “I’m not getting what I want.” It can also show up as “I got what I want — and now I’m afraid to lose it.”

Here the connection between the first two marks starts to become clear. Things are impermanent. And when we demand of what’s impermanent that it provide us with lasting stability, dukkha appears.

3. Not-Self — Anattā

The third mark is probably the most confusing.

Anattā is sometimes translated as “no self,” and from there it’s easy to conclude that Buddhism claims we don’t exist. That’s not the point.

When we say “I,” what do we mean? The body? The body is changing constantly. Thoughts? They too appear and disappear. Feelings? Sometimes we’re happy, sometimes sad, sometimes angry — and sometimes all of that shifts within a single hour. Memories? Personality? Opinions? These change too.

Buddhism isn’t asking us to stop using the word “I.” It’s inviting us to examine the thing we habitually treat as a fixed, separate entity.

Looking closely, we find a body, sensations, perceptions, thoughts, and processes of consciousness — all of them changing, all of them dependent on countless conditions. But it’s hard to find within them a single fixed, independent core we can point to and say: this is me, and this has always been me.

Anattā isn’t a claim that “I don’t exist.” It points to the possibility that what we call “I” is more a process than a thing.

Three Marks, One Movement

It’s easy to learn the three marks as a list: impermanence, dukkha, not-self. But they’re connected to one another.

Everything we encounter changes — impermanence. When we try to hold onto what’s changing and demand it stay the way we want — we meet dukkha. And when we look closely at the one doing the holding, we find that this “I,” too, isn’t a fixed, separate thing — not-self.

This isn’t necessarily a philosophical conclusion you’re asked to accept. You can check it for yourself.

Next time you’re sitting in meditation, try noticing a single sensation in the body. Don’t change it. Just notice. Does it really stay as it is? Where does it begin, and where does it end? What happens when it feels good and you want it to stay? And what happens when it doesn’t, and you want it to go away?

The three marks of existence aren’t found only in Buddhist books. If the Buddha was right, they’re found here — inside the experience of this very moment.