I’m Terrified of Death. I Plan to Use It to Live Better.
A month ago I visited my elderly parents. The restrictions owing to Covid-19 were somewhat relaxed; I’d been terrified about their well-being in the past year and a half; and while it wasn’t the wisest decision to travel right then, my mother hadn’t been feeling well and asked to see me. I took every precaution possible, and so did they. Thereafter, I arrived with a bag full of gifts collected over a year, some gossip, and plenty of pent-up love.
We spent an idyllic few days together. We couldn't stop talking. As my mother started to feel better, I realized it had been the sequestering that had gotten to her. My parents hadn't stepped out in over a year and were feeding off the constant fear-mongering and doomsday news reports. I suspected she insisted I visit because she was afraid of what might happen.
The lull didn't quite last. Soon enough, one thing led to another, and my mother and I got into a quarrel. I don't recall what it was about, most likely something trivial — I’d worn my hair wrong, I was not eating properly, my posture was wrong — I don’t know. We traded hotly spoken words. I repeated what I’d been saying ever since I’d left home: she should learn to let go, I was an adult. She repeated to me, what she always did: I was always going to be her baby. We sulked as we were wont to do, but this time, I did something else.
I apologized quickly.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it. Can we move on? I love you, ma. Hugs and kisses. Mwah.”
The Covid-19 pandemic has brought immense losses to people globally. In India, I’ve seen devastation beyond imagining, with members of close family passing on, while we struggled to arrange for oxygen cylinders and hospital beds. Most times nothing helped. I've never felt so helpless.
That period feels like a virulent fog — a time I rather blot out from my mind. Unhappily though, but not unexpectedly, it also gave root to an immense dread in my heart—a warm heavy fear that slowly started to engulf my every waking moment.
Anyone could die. I had no control. It could come upon me, my parents, my teenage nephew, my toddler niece, and I might be able to do nothing.
Nothing.
Oh, god, the fear. And the helplessness.
I’d never thought of death like that. I’d always imagined it to be a far-off phenomenon. It came when it was time. Yes, people fell terminally ill, but perhaps it wouldn't happen to me… well… if I behaved myself.
The hubris of youth. How decisively have we been shown our fallibility.
I obsessed and I worried. Every waking moment, I kid you not. Then one day, as I was meditating to quell my anxiety, I’d an epiphany.
Hard times come to teach us things. What could this teach me? Resilience? Patience? Yes, and yes.
What else?
I thought back to how quickly my mother and I’d made up. We fought again and made up again. We had both come to the realization that our time together was short and we couldn't afford regrets. Our lives were pervaded by this new sense of urgency I couldn't explain.
A key lesson from a book I’d read and loved years ago came back to me. The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche relays the message of impermanence, the need to follow a spiritual path using meditation, and how to care for and show love to the dying. It gently advises the reader not to fear death, instead, advises to prepare for it, and helping others prepare for it too.
“The birth of a man is the birth of his sorrow. The longer he lives, the more stupid he becomes because his anxiety to avoid unavoidable death becomes more and more acute. What bitterness! He lives for what is always out of reach! His thirst for survival in the future makes him incapable of living in the present. Chuang Tzu.” ― Sogyal Rinpoche, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying.
Life is ephemeral. Nothing lasts forever. Death is inevitable. Then why do we live our lives pretending death doesn’t exist? Why not accept it, prepare for it, and leave with no regrets?
I asked myself: If I died tomorrow, what unfinished business would I leave behind that I rather not? Would I have regrets, unsaid words, unfinished dreams?
“All conditioned things are impermanent — when one sees this with wisdom, one turns away from suffering.”
— The Buddha
A Few Things I’m Trying to Do:
Being present.
I try to make time for my friends and family. I call them, tell them I love them (without hesitation or shame), and tell them they matter to me. I try not to put off calling or visiting. Also, I’m determined to not let disagreements linger for long. Time and again I’ve heard from those that have lost how they wished they’d not said something hurtful and now it was too late to undo it. I’m going to try and not let it come to that.
Being stoic.
Instead of succumbing to the constant pressure to ‘be positive’ and ‘seek happiness’, I’m going to focus on being stoic. Shit happens, just as good things do. The Buddhists believed in being stoic, to be unmoved in the face of the good and the bad, and that's how I'm going to try and be. It is what it is. I will deal with whatever comes my way.
Being naive.
I’m going to wonder at everything. I’m going to widen my eyes and gasp at the fresh daffodils and a night sky full of stars, cheer for children racing on the sidewalk, or when a dragonfly rests on the wall. I’m going to trust people readily, love easily, and be generous with my time and money. Yes, there have been times in the past when I’ve been taken advantage of, but more often than not, I’ve been treated well. Why squander my living moments double guessing a person’s intention? What a waste of time.
Being balanced.
I’m going to add less to my life and buy only what I need. But if I did need to buy or do something important, I’m going to do it right away. Is it your life’s dream to trek to the Everest Base camp? Do it soon as you can. Planning to trek to every mountain in the world? Probably not doable. I’m going to evaluate everything under the lens of moderation and balance. Is it necessary? Do I really, really need it? Would it matter to me when I’m eighty years old?
Do it now. Sometimes ‘Later’ becomes ‘Never’.
Being Enough
The benefits of a gratitude habit cannot be overstated. Just a few minutes a day spent on recounting things I'm grateful for makes for an immediate mood booster. I constantly remind myself I’m and I have enough. I can aspire to do better but I’m not going to kill myself over it. What would matter to me when I’m eighty? What would matter to me if I died tomorrow?
Accepting that everything will one day end is to me simply another way of saying This too shall pass. It moderates my grief and grounds my happiness. Accepting the inevitability of death and using it to guide my decisions has in no way turned me pessimistic or morbid, in fact, it has given me immense peace and comfort.
As is life, so is death.
Please “clap” to show me some love. It means more than you know.
Visit my blog to learn more about me. I ponder a lot, go on impulsive crazy adventures and write quirky cosy mysteries. I’m all over the place and constantly searching for meaning. Quite mad.
