“It is truly a great cosmic paradox that one of the best teachers in all of life turns out to be death.” – Michael A. Singer
“The funny thing about facing imminent death is that it really snaps everything else into perspective.” – James Patterson
I’ve spent the last few weeks contemplating death. Now I know this might sound like quite a somber activity to be engaged in, and yet, it is not. You see, I’m not contemplating death in a suicidal way. I’m honouring death as a masterful teacher. It is as Michael Singer says in his book, The Untethered Soul, “It is truly a great cosmic paradox that one of the best teachers in all of life, turns out to be death.”
And of course, living through a global pandemic means that all of us have been confronted with death in one form or another over the last two years. Yet, no person or situation could ever teach you as much as death has to teach you.
People often spew platitudes about being more than just our physical bodies and while we have all heard a version of “you are not what you own or what you do”, nothing helps us realise that truth as quickly and as powerfully as death. Death shows you that you are not your body. Death shows you that you cannot take any of your physical belongings with you. And death shows you that status or money doesn’t define you, since regardless of your background, your culture, your history, your job title, your wealth, or lack thereof, death comes for all of us and instantly makes us all the same. Death is the ultimate equaliser.
The question is, are you going to wait until that last moment to let death be your teacher? Contemplating death and submitting to its inherent wisdom means we have the possibility of learning from it at any moment. My encouragement would be to invite death to teach you about life, while you still have life left to live.
If you are wise, you realise that any breath you take might be your last. Any conversation you have might be your last. Death could arrive at any time at any place. A wise being completely and totally embraces the reality, the inevitability, and the unpredictability of death.
One of the best ways I’ve found the thought of death to be useful, is to ask myself in a moment of upset if this thing that I’m upset about will matter in a year from now. And to consider what would happen if I was no longer here. What would happen if today was my last day on earth? Would I really want to spend it being upset about the thing that has triggered me? 99% of the time, the answer is a clear and solid “hell no!” So, it’s a great practice to incorporate. Whenever you feel triggered, angered, frustrated, or upset, ask yourself, will this matter a year from now? If the answer is no, then simply let it go. There is life to be lived and no time to be wasted on things that are inconsequential.
Life is not something you get. Life is something you experience. Life continues even when you cease to exist in the form you are in now. Life finds a way, always. So, your presence here in this human form right now, is one of the rarest of gifts, because it gives you the opportunity to experience life in all it’s different shades. It gives you the opportunity to really be present to every experience, because even the smallest of experiences can be transformational if you stay present to them.
The last time
Sam Harris in his Waking Up Meditation app invites us to consider that everything is finite and that there is a finite number of times that you will do everything. Even if you are waking up every few hours for a baby right now, there will come a time when it will be the last time that you will wake up for your crying baby. This recently happened to me, and I will share that I did not realise on the last night that I got up for my son, that it would be the last night. So, if you have small children, consider when will it be the last time you ever pick up your child, or the last time you read them a bedtime story, or tuck them into bed, or the last time you get to watch them splashing around in the bath tub, or the last time you will help them tie their shoes, or the last time you will brush their hair…
We are seldom conscious of what we are doing in the moment and often we don’t give much thought to the temporary nature of all things. When was the last time you swam in the ocean, or went for a hike, or went camping, or watched a movie in the cinema, or went driving in the countryside, or pet a dog, or touched a horse, or watched a sunset, or allowed someone to sing happy birthday to you…?
Sam Harris shares that the greatest wealth you actually possess is your attention. Your attention is even worth more than money. See, you could have all the money in the world, but if you are not paying attention to your life as it unfolds, you will still feel empty, and the moments of your life will hold no significance for you. It’s not what you do, it’s how much attention you are giving to the thing you are doing. The only way we can truly waste time, is by not paying attention to our life as we are living it.
One really powerful way to pay more attention to what you are doing, is to be mindful that it might be the last time that you do that specific thing. Even painful things will eventually end. And somehow there is sweetness to that realisation. The long nights without sleep will come to an end. The loneliness and boredom will come to an end. The tears and heartache will come to an end. The sorrow, the yearning, the anger, the frustration, the missing of someone or something… all these things are finite and there will come a time when it is the last time that you have the thought or the reaction you are having right now.
So too with the good things. The hobbies you enjoy doing. The songs you like listening to. Or the books you like reading. There will come a day when it will be the last time you ever listen to a specific song. Or the last time you ever read a book. Or the last time you ever eat your favourite meal.
What if today is the last time you speak to a specific person, or give them a hug, or tell them how much you love them? How would you show up differently if you knew that this might be the last time you ever see the person you are with? What if you knew that you would not wake up tomorrow? Would you argue about insignificant things? Would you try to prove that you’re right and they are wrong? Would you allow yourself to be distracted by your phone? Or would you really pay attention to what they were saying? Would you focus on their face and try to remember what they look like? Would you tell them how much you love or appreciate them? My guess is the latter.
Any moment could be your last moment.
On the day I gave birth to my son, I caught myself in the moment, feeling overwhelmed and focusing too much on the pain and on what could go wrong. The anesthetist in the room that day was a gift to me. He was the only person trying to help me calm down. He asked me if I wanted to listen to some music. And I laughed. I told him he might not be able to play the song I would most want to listen to. He accepted the challenge. And he found the song.
And my son came into the world while Ek skyn heilig (a song that brings me to tears ever time and that talks to me at the core of my being) by Fokkofpolisiekar (my favourite band in the whole world) was blaring through the speakers. I will forever remember that moment. What could have been a moment where I wasn’t paying attention and where I was simply trying to “get through it”, will now always be a moment I will remember with fondness and joy, just like the two moments in time when I held each of my children after they were born.
Both my children were in Neonatal ICU after they were born. So, I only got to hold them for a few seconds before they were taken away, but a few seconds were all it took. I was hooked. And those moments will stay with me for the rest of my life. I was fully present. Fully awake. My attention was focused on the little beings I got to hold and on “meeting” them for the first time. I already knew them, but seeing them for the first time… that stays with you.
I’m sure you could think of many moments in your life like that. A moment suspended in time that simply stays with you forever. And the reason it stays with you, is because it evoked a strong emotion in you, and you were fully present.
Some of those moment may have been scary. A car crash, someone dying in your arms. I have my fair share of those. Those moments stay with you, because they represent the last time you drove in that car, or sat with that person, or saw your loved one, or said goodbye.
The real challenge is to live MOST of your life like that – in a state of awareness and presence, noticing life as it unfolds; noticing the “mundane” moments in your life that you look back on one day and appreciate for the life-defining moments they actually were.
More than four years ago, my husband and I were homeless for a day. We had moved out of the temporary accommodation we had lived in for four months after arriving in Canada. And we were finally moving into our own place, but we could not get the keys to our new house yet. So, we sat in our car next to a lake and simply watched the water. It was in that moment that we both finally admitted to each other how hard the last four months had been and how we were both holding on for dear life, simply to trying to “make it through”.
And I can honestly say that those four months were a complete blur to me. The days merged into each other. I lost track of time. I lost track of myself. That simply is how it is when you are in grief. You lose all sense of meaning, because the thing that was anchoring you to this world is suddenly gone. And as hard as you might try, staying present simply feels impossible, because the pain of it is unbearable. I know those of you who have lost loved ones know exactly what I’m talking about.
What I want to say about this is that it’s ok to have times in your life where you are not paying attention to the outside world. My encouragement would be to pay attention, nonetheless. Pay attention to your inner world and to how you are holding the experience. Be with your own pain and give yourself permission to grieve. Pay attention to what the grief feels like, because at some point, it will be the last time you experience the pain as intensely as you are experiencing it right now. There will come a time when you will lift your head again, and feel ready to reconnect with the outer world.
My encouragement would be to lean into your experience. It was only when I allowed myself to truly grieve; to really sit with the loss, and to acknowledge to myself how much I was longing for the life that was gone, that I was able to breathe again. I needed to be with the pain. I needed to work through it in my own way and in my own time, staying present to it. And the gift from that time was that I now live with more awareness and gratitude. I’m more mindful that every moment could be my last moment. Every moment is precious, because it is a slice of life.
It’s like Michael Singer says, every human experience is an experience worth having. I sometimes have a hard time with that, because I feel as if no-one should experience war, violence, abuse, poverty and extreme loss. And yet, these experiences are happening in the world and sometimes people arise from these experiences and share their pain and their wisdom with the rest of us. And we are all better for it. It’s those stories of post-traumatic growth that inspire us the most. When someone turns something that could have been perceived as “bad” or “wrong” into the greatest gift they ever received, into the inspiration to live a life with purpose and meaning.
It’s the fragility of life, and the knowledge that we will all die, that makes the gift of life so precious. If we were going to live forever, we would simply take this gift for granted, but because death is there waiting for all of us, because we know that our next breath might be our last, because we never know when we will do something for the last time, we appreciate these moments in time so much more. They are moments for us to have a full human experience, with its pain and frustrations, and it’s beauty, awe, and joy.
So, my invitation is to live every day as if you are on the verge of death, because dear friend, you are.
References:
Singer, M. A. (2007). The Untethered Soul: The Journey Beyond Yourself. Oakland, California: New Harbinger.