When I was about nine, my father — then travelling in Cambodia — sent me a batch of photographs taken in Phnom Penh. One of them was of a cabinet filled with rows and rows of skulls, each belonging to a person murdered by the Khmer Rouge.
Though hardly my first encounter with death, this image plunged me into a cavernous sinkhole of mortality-related despair. “Everybody dies”, I realised with abject horror, “and none of us knows when it will happen”.
For most of us, the thought of shuffling off this mortal coil is hardly an enticing one, but the notion of kicking the bucket fills me with such white-hot fear that I absolutely cannot abide it. Put simply, death sucks, and I would like to opt out of it by calling a 1-800 hotline.
I’m usually a pretty chipper, upbeat person, but sometimes I’ll be winding down at the end of the day and suddenly remember: “Oh yeah. One day I’m going to die.” It’s like a switch is flicked and darkness descends. I immediately become convinced that the world I inhabit is fraught with peril. No-one cares! Nothing means anything! Everything is taken away in an instant.
How can one simple thought have such an effect? Mortality — the human condition, if you want to get all literary about it — is the big kahuna of anxieties. It’s the ultimate loss of control. And for people who love life and must be in charge of their own destiny, this is a really icky thought.
So how to deal with this mortality business? How can we acknowledge that our time here is brief without depressing ourselves into a ditch? Time to bring on the (non-fatal) bullets:
- Appreciate what you have. It’s often said, and with good reason: the best way to live is to live in the here and now. Pay attention to what’s in front of you. Tell people how you feel about them. And please, as much as is possible, put down the damn iPhone.
- Look at yourself in broader terms. Go to a big museum that uses artefacts to create a narrative of all human endeavour. Somewhere like the Met in New York, the Louvre or the British Museum. Marvel at the incredible achievements of all those that have gone before you. Visualise your place in the story of humanity. And be glad that after your time has come, you won’t have to suffer the indignity of having your mummified corpse put on display for a bunch of gawking tourists.
- Mine your mortality-related angst for creative and/or commercial gain. What’s the use in suffering if you can’t tell people about it? Preoccupation with death has resulted in extraordinary poetry, prose and song. There was this one dude, Shakespeare, who was totally obsessed with croaking. His strategy was to channel his feelings into a bunch of relatively successful plays and sonnets. (Assuming he wrote everything that’s been attributed to him, but that’s a debate for another crowd.)
- Plan your funeral. I know, I know: this sounds disgustingly morbid. But putting things in practical terms gives you a sense of control. Pick the songs you want for your farewell. Sort out the decor and decide whether you want a celebratory wake or a solemn throw-yourself-on-the-coffin-sobbing type of deal. I’ve already briefed my mum on the procedures should she be around for my demise. I don’t want her to be singing me childhood lullabies and sobbing into my bedsheets. I want her to be on the phone to the cryogenics lab organising a pick-up.
Though I still get the odd flash of terror, the way I try to deal with death is to think, well, life is short. That really freaking sucks. But every minute you waste agonising over the unfairness of it all is a minute in which you haven’t been living it up. You may not have any control over your death, but you have complete control over your life. So make the choice to be bold. Do things that terrify you. And if you fail, at least you shall fail spectacularly.
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Great advice, Ella. I kinda felt bad I was actually holding my iPhone when I read this … but I’ve put it down now. Another suggestion I want to make is ‘try to do the best you can to make a positive change, as what is success truly measured in if not how many other lives we touch?’ Thanks Ella, keep up the great work!
Busted! Multitasking is hard to give up — I only stopped doing the “read messages while walking down the street” thing when I was almost wiped out by a giant car.
Good call on making positive changes as well. That should definitely be on the list.
Good advice.
Death is an oppressive and unavoidable whore. We all get consumed by thoughts of her at times and it’s inevitable that we’ll bed with her. But that’s far from being a bad thing. Sure it’s daunting, but when she comes the experience can’t be too different from the time before we were born.
My dad always said that life is about distractions. You build up distractions in your life – whether it be a job, hobby or friendships – so you avoid the issue of mortality and the futility of life. Kind of depressing but it works for him and I recognise the reasoning in it.
Continuing on the theme of others’ advice but somewhat more upbeat than my dad’s – Kurt Vonnegut’s uncle Alex used to say that when things were really going well we should be sure to notice it. But not just the triumphs in our lives – simple occasions like enjoying a cool glass on lemonade on a hot day or fishing with friends.
He urged to say out loud: “If this isn’t nice, what is?”.
Why not?
Living in the moment is key – for me, anyway. It’s something that can be tricky to learn to do, but when you can… it’s brilliant. Half the trick is being ready to let go of a moment and embracing the next one – but what better way to breathe in life around you?
I’m pretty sure people still think I’m a loon for grinning like a dork on public transport and walking down the street in bad weather, but I can’t help it! Life’s too awesome to walk around grumbling.
The worst part about dying is you won’t know when you’re dead or when you have died because you cease to exist at point of death.
As for funeral plans, my mum has been briefed that there is to be no funeral, wake, memorial service etc. If anyone in my will attends one (even if not organised by them) they are automatically out of the will. As for body disposal, the body is to be donated to science (but explicitly not medical transplants) to see if they can use the body to find a cure for whatever killed it. Any remains after that are to be disposed of on unconsecrated ground (hey I’m a devout practising atheist, and when forced to go to church as a child, instead of reading the day’s lesson etc I was reciting the rite of excommunication, given the number of times I’ve done it I’m pretty sure the message got through) at an undisclosed location (if there are any remains – our family tends to burn ours, so probably won’t be any left, but after I’m dead there’s fuck all I can do about what is done with my body) in an unmarked grave. That should take care of it.
Can I get an iPhone?