How Contemplating Death Enriches your Life - Part 1
Very few of us are willing to actively contemplate our mortality; this is particularly true in Western cultures. Usually, if someone brings up the topic of death it’s considered to be impolite, almost offensive as if the implication is “we were having a nice time until you reminded us of reality.”
Though all modern metropolises are becoming increasingly materialistic and chasing the idea of being forever “young”, Asian countries such as Thailand are far more open to the topic of aging and death, due to the predominance of Buddhism. Contemplating the truth of impermanence--that everything arises, everything passes away--invites people to contemplate their mortality and to do so from a larger view, from a space of equanimity and acceptance. This is simply the way that things are. The more that people can turn towards this truth with clarity, courage, and compassion the more they will be free from suffering and live a life filled with peace, freedom, and joy.
Bangkok even has a “death cafe,” which invites patrons to reflect on the impermanence of life!
When we realize the fragile and fleeting nature of life, our perspective shifts. When we’re paying attention to the constantly changing nature of life within our direct, moment to moment experience we are not so easily frustrated when pleasant circumstances change. Moreover, we’re not so fearful or resistant in unpleasant circumstances because we’re rooted in the wisdom that “this too shall pass.”
Consequently, we suffer less. We are much more able to access a spacious sense of love, compassion, joy, and inner peace amidst the ups and downs of life.
But in addition to the mindfulness or vipassana practice that allows us to gain this freedom and insight, it’s also highly beneficial to include contemplations on mortality itself.
However, before I share the practices, let’s consider a little bit more why we should proactively ponder the fleeting nature of our existence, for until we understand how it can help us to live life more fully we won’t do it, because admit it or not, we’re afraid of death.
We’re so afraid of death that we in fact spend much of our lives trying not to think about the fact that we’re going to die.
Yet paradoxically our refusal to confront the truth of our mortality and the frailty of human life has implications not only for how we will meet the inevitable challenges of aging, disease, and death, but for how we live, even when times are relatively good.
Refusing to make peace with our mortality means we can actually squander more of our precious time on earth than if we were willing to really be with this truth. When we encounter the inevitable grief of losing a loved one, we will suffer more intensely and for longer periods because we have not trained our minds to see clearly that this is simply the way things are: everything arises, everything passes away.
We also struggle more with those multiple, metaphorical “deaths” within life: divorce, friendships withering away, parents dying, changing careers, challenges to our health. When we’re not attuned to the constantly changing nature of life we get knocked around much more easily by the surf. Intellectually, we tell ourselves we know that things can change, that we’ll die, but we don’t really live our lives that way. When things actually do inevitably change, when they arise and pass away, we’re left confused, heartbroken, devastated. In my last post, “Opening to Grief,” I discussed how if we contemplate death, we suffer less.
In this post, I’d like to point to another excellent reason to contemplate death and impermanence: it allows us to live our lives more fully.
It allows us to cultivate more skillful ways of relating to life such as gratitude, savoring, awe, peace, joy, and equanimity. On a given day, how much of your time are you spent caught in some sort of negative thought loop: frustrated, anxious, complaining? How much of your time do you spend caught in The Trance of Never Enough?
The mind is inclined to imagine how the current situation might be better. True happiness always seems to be just around the corner, if only we could get that next thing we want, or get rid of that one thing that’s bothering us....then we’d finally be happy. Only to discover that when we attain the object of our desire, happiness once again proves to be fleeting.
Not getting what you want, getting what you don’t want, getting what you want then losing it: all of these are various flavors of “dukkha,” which can mean “dis satisfaction” or “suffering” depending on the context. This is the natural state of viewing life through the dualistic mind, through the ego, The Buddha taught.
If you truly had internalized the reality that you could die at any moment, if you really appreciated how fragile life is, how different might your day look?
Set aside for a moment any big life changes. Just how much less of your time would you spend imagining how you might be happier at some future date? Or how much gentler and kinder would you be in your speech to other people? How much more would you savor that cup of tea or that delicious meal, instead of being lost in thought about what else you should be or could be doing?
The tradition of mindfulness meditation offers us specific practices for cultivating these positive emotions, which I’ll unpack more in future posts. These qualities are loving-kindness, compassion, empathetic joy, and equanimity.
But as a foundation for any meditation practice, I’ve come to deeply appreciate a contemplation that allows me to turn towards the truth of my own mortality, of the preciousness of life, in order to cultivate a deeper appreciation for everything that I have. You can do this practice at any time. For me, I enjoy doing it at the start of my first seated meditation practice of the day.
This is a series of reflections that are common in all schools of Buddhism.
The particular formulation that I like comes from the Tibetan tradition, which calls these contemplations “The Four Thoughts that Turn the Mind.” (For those who are interested in learning about these practices in more depth, I would recommend Mingyur Rinpoche’s book Turning Confusion into Clarity. Both Mingyur Rinpoche and his brother Tsoknyi Rinpoche also offer some excellent free explanations on these topics online.)
I’ll summarize these reflections below with the way that I chose to adapt the wording that resonates with me. These recitations can ring true and be valuable to everyone, even if one is agnostic, as am I, or even a non-believer, in traditional Buddhist beliefs such as rebirth.
This practice is an invitation to get real with yourself, to be with whatever feelings--discomfort, anticipation, or gratitude--arise when you consider the potential and the limitations of human life. I’ll highlight the first two thoughts today and share more on the following two in a coming blog post. The thoughts are highlighted in bold and the words underneath are what I say to myself.
Precious human life.
This human life is precious. May I make the most of this rare opportunity to awaken, to evolve, to live with love, joy, compassion, and equanimity. May I awaken for the benefit of all beings everywhere, without exception.
Impermanence and mortality.
Life is fundamentally impermanent, imperfect, and impersonal. Everything arises, everything passes away. My body and mind are subject to aging, disease and death, and the physical and emotional pain that accompanies this decay. All beings, including those I love most, are subject to aging, disease, and death. I will have to live with the grief of watching those that I love most die. There are no exceptions to this law.
May I have the courage and wisdom to consciously keep this truth in my mind so that I make the most of this life, so that I may live with peace, joy, and gratitude, and that I may also be of benefit to all beings.
After beginning my first seated meditation practice of the day with these contemplations, I release the words and images associated with them, allow my attention to drop into my body, and continue with my meditation practice.
I invite you to try this contemplation practice and to let me know what you found challenging or helpful about the practice.
As always, you can start a discussion on the Adrian Baker Meditation Facebook page or on LinkedIn.