Death Changes Everything

First published on April 22, 2019

Death changes things. In fact, it changes everything. 

I read a quote recently which said something like this: "Like dying, erring is something that we acknowledge definitely happens to everyone, whilst simultaneously ignoring the fact that it therefore will definitely happen to us."

That's harder to do when your error - or that of someone close to you - has significant and seriously damaging effects on people around you. And it's harder to do when someone you know dies.

Death is one of life's few certainties. There's very little we can do about it, and we don't necessarily know when it comes. Many people find themselves ignoring these facts, believing somehow that this makes life more enjoyable, that remembering and thinking about death - ours, or that of those we love - will make life worse. My experience, and the experience of those I've worked with, is exactly the opposite.

I've written before about the power of considering your death, of - in the words of the Zen saying - dying before you die, so that you can truly live. And since I wrote about that, each time I have taken clients into the space to consider their death: to consider what would have happened if, at their death, life had worked out extraordinarily. Or, conversely, to consider what would make them sad if, at the end of their life, it either had or had not happened. Each time I have taken clients to that space, I have seen powerful results. In fact, I would say nothing has had as profound or as quick an impact on people's lives: on everything from people's relationships to their family to their time management and prioritisation.

The fragility of life is important to remember, however you remember it. 

It will remind you of the things that deep down really matter to you. The relationships that are important, the material things that matter and those that don't, the fears that hold you back, that you wish didn't. It releases you from the strangling grip of your ego, desperate to protect your sense of identity. It releases you from the dreams of the past, the 'should's and 'if only's which stop you taking action. It reminds you that the second best time to start is now. It reminds you that deep down, you do care about things, and you do want to create something wonderful in your life, whatever wonderful means to you. It reminds you that you – yes, you – have your own definition of success, which matters to you, the deeper version of you that exists inside. You can use that one - and not one you inherited from someone else - to be the guiding star in your life, the true North, the compass that you follow as you make decisions and change things and say ‘Yes’ and say ‘No’.

These, are the powers of facing your mortality. Of sitting down and writing the eulogy you would love to be given at the end of your life. Of making the list of things which, at the end of your life, would make you sad, and turning them into a commitment to live by, a sense of I will not let that be the legacy of my life.

And what, really, is the other choice? The other choice is just to sleepwalk through life. To hope that one day, you will wake up and things will have turned out well. To let fear of a certainty, and one you can do very little about, hold you back.

Some people worry that if they face their own mortality then there is nothing left to live for, and life will descend into panic or a not-caring-about-anything nihilism. But that’s not what I’ve seen. What I’ve seen is people stepping up in their lives, and being the heroes that deep down they really are.