Contemplating Mortality

Existence is but a thin slit of light surrounded by infinite darkness

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“The irony of man’s condition is that the deepest need is to be free of the anxiety of death and annihilation; but it is life itself which awakens it, and so we must shrink from being fully alive.” Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death

In all honesty, I did not think I would post this week, succumb as I felt by the premature death of my greatest companion, Coco, my dog. Like most brachycephalic animals, she snored, and shed her fawn-colored hairs everywhere. What more, she derived most of her happiness from two things: food and warm spots. The former ended up killing her and the latter makes me feel her absence in just about everything, inseparable as we were.

When something suddenly ceases to exist, not only do we miss that thing, we are also reminded of our own mortality. To be human means to know that we are, in the long run, food for maggots. It is to know that we have emerged from nothing and will return to nothing.

Somewhere in our rational minds we all realize that one day we too will die, that we’re but a speck of light in between two slides of eternal darkness. Yet it is a fact upon which few of us linger. And though a general negligence of the inevitable is healthy, countless philosophers and theologians throughout the ages have said that a lifelong consideration of death enriches rather than drains life.

Consider near death experiences. If one is convinced he or she will die, and then is given the guarantee of more life, there will be, almost certainly, a dramatic psychological change. Even those who are saved at the cusp of a suicidal episode state that the value of life suddenly became crystal clear during that critical moment.

Viewing life as finite guarantees a more significant life. Failure to acknowledge our limitation leads us to devalue our present moment, in a frantic search for some future which does not yet belong to us and which is not guaranteed.

“Those who strive and hope and live only in the future always looking ahead and impatiently anticipating what is coming, as something which will make them happy when they get it, are, in spite of their clever airs exactly like those donkeys … whose pace may be hurried by fixing a stick on their heads with a wisp of hay at the end of it; this is always ahead of them, and they keep on trying to get it. Such people are in a constant state of illusion as to their whole existence; they go on living ad interim [in the meantime], until at last they die.” Schopenhauer, Collected Essays.

Henry David Thoreau once stated: “the price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.” We spend most of our time on things which aren’t important and devalue our current moment. Worse still, we are aware of our mediocre lives, yet do nothing to change our situation. Instead we postpone and delude ourselves. We think that the future holds a better, more ideal opportunity for change. But no matter how often the future becomes our present, none of the given moments are ever just right. Existence cannot be postponed to the following day, week, year, even hour. Life as a waiting game is a dangerous activity.

In short, contemplating life enhances life. For one, it enriches our relationships, not just with ourselves but with the people living life with us. The more aware we become of our own demise, the more we can, in turn, become aware of the mortality of those we love. When we know we cannot have something forever, we enjoy it all the more while we still can. For example, I was entirely convinced Coco would live an extra four, five years at least. Now that it’s too late, I’m worried I did not love her enough while she was still there to receive my affection. And though I know there is no value in these thoughts now, there is something to say about self-analysis and periodically reflecting on our actions. To ask ourselves whether we are treating ourselves and the people around us in a manner which will not instigate future regret.

Overall, death can be compared to drinking water. We need water in order to survive, and the more water we drink, the healthier we become. However, there comes a point when we have had enough. In those cases, we should use the water for something else. Perhaps to wash our faces, our bodies, or submerge in a warm bath.

Turning away completely from the idea of death can be, paradoxically, fatal. Just as we need water for bodily function, our mortality will make our life more intense and worth the while. In conclusion, it is only through its very finality that we are can be born.

All things considered, I still miss my dog. Her death has incited several episodes existential anxiety and has made me feel physically sick with grief. However, lucky enough my own life is still on-going. I will try my best to live each day as if it could potentially be the last. The integration of death can save us from existential dread and enable us to live a more authentic life with deeper relationships. It will make us act with more genuine passion and enhance our enjoyment in the living of life in general.