Death

One day I will die. As will we all. What will matter as I lie on my death bed and the truth sinks in – the finality of the end of my existence, the gnawing realization that my life will flicker, grow still, and cease? We, I, self, mind, consciousness, is-ness, will be no longer. Can we even comprehend what it means to no longer be? Do we ever really let in what that means?

My consciousness will disappear and everything that mattered to me will make no sense – will be absurd, premised on a foundation which dissipated into particles that floated away aimlessly and became a speck of soil, a quark blinking in and out, a dot in a dusty book on a shelf. 'I' will die, my 'self' will no longer exist; what on earth does this mean when even the concepts we use to describe this are premised on existence? There is no 'I' when 'I' am dead. My body has lived with this dissonance and avoided it profusely every moment I have been alive.

When we feel the absurdity of 'I,' the neat logic that we arrange our lives around (our experience of being in each moment) will explode and our reality will fall through the floor. The logic, so comforting, never made sense because the premise was never true. We desperately held molecules together, creating enough solid ground for us to stand on in that moment; but the floor was never there. We are master dancers: tiptoeing, falling, catching ourselves; always staying with one toe on the shifting ground, always convincing ourselves the next step will be sure. As we lie on our deathbed, I am convinced we will see the void under us for what it is: space, floating, being, nothing, infinite. We will see how much of our lives we were puppets on strings, clutched by fear, never letting ourselves fall.

What do we do with this? What do we do when we let in, truly, the absurdity of 'I' and the inevitability of non-existence?

Viktor Frankl believed the meaning of life is our response to the question that life poses us in every moment. Our response can and must adapt in every instance. It becomes meaningful through action (creating something), loving (experiencing nature, art, and loving another human) and suffering (enduring what fate brings upon us). To create meaning, we must ask what life expects from us – what is our duty? Pain is just as fundamental to what it is to be human as joy. Rather than clutching and fearing, we must build a transitory footprint we are proud to stand on and find the courage and fortitude to fall into the void when we must.

Shambhala buddhist wisdom asks us to acknowledge the fundamental impermanence, uncertainty, and shifting nature of existence. Once acknowledged, we can just be; we can sit non-judgmentally with the reality of every moment. We must fall into the void and learn the joy in falling.

Denial does not serve us, nor does externalizing our impermanence by creating flimsy structures. One day I will die, and all that is left will be the senseless outline of what used to be 'I'. My body will disintegrate under the trees that breathe quietly around me now. What will I wish of myself, knowing this? I will wish to have given unconditionally; loved fiercely with every ounce of my being; opened my heart to pain; fought for my convictions; given more to the world than I asked of it; found joy under every rock; loved nature as part of myself; stood firm with fate; existed wholly in every moment I was granted; brought into existence an endless energy and curiosity; and let go, when I needed to, with equanimity. I will strive to do myself the kindness of living in a way that will bring me peace when my being flickers out.