How conscious are we of our own mortality?

I had the nasty experience of knowing I was going to die last year. It is not anything I would wish upon anyone. It’s still screwing with me. It makes me value loved one’s even more.

For a long time I’ve felt that my type 1 diabetes gives me an amplified view of impermanence. I face death on a daily basis, and my body is being deteriorated in the long term, at quicker rate than normal, no matter what I do. Every day I have to make decisions balancing between these two poles. These things have always been part of my conscious experience.

I think it must vary from individual to individual. I had a brother who died as a child so I have always seen the possibility of death. How often I think about my own mortality and what I think about it depends very much on where I am in life at any given time.

Believe it or not, but I have those thoughts of “this could be it for me” on a near-daily basis. Not that I’m in any special danger or ill health. But I live alone, and I’ve had near misses in several areas of my life, including slips and near-falls while walking down a flight of stairs, choking on food, slips in the shower, etc. And I take long drives by myself, too, where people might not know where to look for me if I had an accident or drove off the side of the road.

My plan is to live forever, and knock on wood so far, so good. But I may not, and I realize that.

Not much. That way lies madness. If you were constantly thinking of your own or loved ones’ impermanence, it would keep you from enjoying the moment (which is what life is all about) and it would keep you depressed.

For me, it’s less a matter of “I/they could die at any moment” than that “I/they are constantly dying”. Living is the process of dying. Dying is a moment-to-moment thing.

That’s not at all as gloomy as it sounds. It’s reality.

So, @thorninmud – is the awareness of “I/they are constantly dying” something that makes an appearance during periods of contemplation, or is this truly something that you are aware of while talking to someone? Is this an artifact on the lens through which you view reality or do you put it there later on when you revisit an interaction (if that makes any sense) in your mind?

There’s still a lot I need to get done to provide properly for those I love when I am gone. I don’t know how long I have to get my affairs in order, but I will be 69 in a few days, so I think about it a fair amount. Fifty years ago, it seemed like I had a near eternity to build a life I’d be proud of at its end. Today, I am ever more aware of the grim reaper shadowing me. The pressure I feel from that sense of an impending ending is to get everything sorted out so my responsibilities are fulfilled and I don’t leave behind undue burdens for others.

@tom_g It’s a question of my level of attention at any given time, since that waxes and wanes.

I’ll have to resort to metaphor here: If you’re floating in a river, bobbing along in the current with other flotsam and jetsam, you don’t feel or see the current at all. If your view is confined to the water in your immediate vicinity, things seem relatively fixed in their relationship to you. It would be easy to fall into an illusion of stability. While you may be cognitively aware that the river terminates at the sea, the moment-by-moment impression is one of continuity.

But if you were to stand on the riverbank, that illusion of stability disappears; or rather, you see that what’s stable is the river itself. But then, you also see that the river is none other than the transit of its contents to the sea; the river and its contents are not different. The arrival at the sea may be a radical event from the perspective of something floating along on the river, but from the perspective of the riverbank, the arrival is a constant.

When my attention waxes, it becomes clear that I’m not just some object moving along the river; I’m the river itself. My arrival at the sea is not a future, tragic event, but a constant. When attention wanes, I find that I’m bobbing along in the river, the sea a distant abstraction.

I think about my mortality at least a few times a week.

My religious leanings do tell me I have nothing to fear, but we all have to go through Judgement as well, which could get embarassing.

When I was younger, I was terrified of dying, but after seeing a few people die, I realize everyone goes differently. I just hope it’s peaceful and comfortable, or on my own terms.

@thorninmud – I love metaphors. This one seems to work pretty well.

I have – and always had – a terrible time with impermanence. It was intimidating and conflicted with the stories I have always told myself. I think the “illusion of stability” is one that I am most comfortable with. I seem to function in two modes: 1) I build an emotional raft in the river and attempt to drop anchor. 2) Since #1 doesn’t work, I find the river overwhelming, and I can easily slip into a panic (I can’t swim. I didn’t sign up for this. My heart is going to break, etc).

Of course, I’m not only talking about mortality, but this is really the elephant in the room (or in my room). I have times that I simply mourn the passing of a pleasant moment, and I realize that somewhere deep down, my mind is habitually creating the illusion of permanence, and “I” am having to deal with the emotional consequences of such habits. I have actually been sitting with my 3 kids around a dinner table in complete bliss because I couldn’t ask for anything more – yet suddenly realize that I am trying to grab it all in and it’s something I can’t have because there’s nothing really there to grab, it’s all changing, the moment is gone, and my mind races down the river to take a peek at the ocean.

(I broke your metaphor. But don’t worry – I’ll go back and digest it some more. Thanks)

@tom_g That’s a textbook example of the workings of dukkha as you probably know. This is our human predicament: to both be stuck in the perspective of an object in the river and to know that the river terminates at the sea (and, on a smaller scale, that the calm stretches of river will give way to turbulent stretches).

My teenager has been thinking about death and suicide lately. I can’t stop thinking about what if’s. I lay in bed at night wondering if he’ll be alive in the morning.

It saddens me and makes me question my parenting and the cruel world that our children face. I hope that as the newness wears off and I am secure in his psychological care, I can just love and appreciate him more. Not just him… everyone, and every moment.

@Cupcake that is so hard! Does he have a good therapist?

@janbb Yes. Good pediatrician, clinical psychologist and psychiatrist (although the waits to get in to see any of them can be weeks). I trust each of them completely.

I really want to take leave from my job and take him out of school and love him to pieces. I want to take away all of the bad and leave him with only the good. I want to let him see himself through my eyes. But I can’t.

Sorry for the derail.

@Cupcake Switching to pms.

I’ve had some personal experience with people dying, so I think about it from time to time. Most recently, I was thinking about the fact that I am always there for my grandkids, two of my adult grandsons are currently living with me, but I won’t always be here for the two youngest ones.

It really hits home when we lose a pet as well.

I don’t think one can honestly say they are “ok” with their mortality until they have actually faced the imminent possibility of death. Only then does death feel real. Only then do you know whether or not the ideas you have in your head about death really ring true and make sense to you. It is a hard thing to face and most of us avoid realling facing it as long as we can. Understandable, really.

I faced it at a young age and I can say it changed me, it shook me up, but without constantly reminding myself of the fragility of life and how precious it is, I like anyone else, tend to forget and get caught up in silly happiness draining emotions. It requires a constant reminder of how precious life is. It requires that one think always that this moment wasted in pain, anger, or any negative emotion can never be regained. Could it be better spent otherwise? Can you let it go for the sake of enjoying birdsong and the laughter of a child? It’s always up to you. I try to be conscious. I try to shake off the anger, jealousy, hatred, fear, etc…all the negative human emotions that are part of life. I don’t always succeed of course. It is all part of being human. And I have no answers to what comes next. What will greet me after I “shuffle off this mortal coil.”? I don’t know. Being human is like some great experiment. It’s a challenge with no game book. We are all always thinking of our mortality and at the very same time trying to avoid it.

@Cupcake – My son attempted to overdose a few years ago. It is truly a parent’s worst nightmare. However, I was comforted by the fact that I held it together and was able to be calm, supportive and strong for him through and since that time.

I do at least partially attribute my composure through that experience to my improved acceptance at the impermanence of everyone and everything. To love something as much as we love our children, but to have to accept that we have absolutely no control over them is sad. Fortunately, I recognized this as he entered his teenage years, so we didn’t develop control issues between us, and our relationship is evolving nicely now that he’s officially an adult.

I really appreciate @thorninmud‘s contributions to this topic, as they express my current feelings on the topic quite well.

When I was a child, I was raised in a Christian household and we were very involved in our church, so I believed that death was a transition to a better existence. I didn’t think about death much, even when my grandfather died when I was in first grade, because we hadn’t been close since he didn’t live nearby. I didn’t deal with death firsthand until my cat died when I was 11, and I was heartbroken.

By that age, I had been abused verbally and sexually. I was so miserable the night before my twelfth birthday that I prayed to die in my sleep because I’d had enough already. Waking up to find that my mercy had not been granted was when I started to question religion.

This started a period of great existential angst that lasted a couple decades… If there is no just and merciful god, then there is nothing after death. Many nights I had difficulty closing my eyes to sleep because I could feel the void. I was terrified of death.

In college, I was granted special permission to take a class on Death & Dying because of my fear. Part of that class was to see the cadavers that were used for medical lab classes, and I stood as far away as I could and averted my eyes most of the time. We discussed Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’ work on the stages of greif and the concepts of living wills, hospice, death with dignity and assisted suicide – which were still controversial in the early 1980s. Contemplating that there are people who knew that death was imminent, and who accepted that there was no way to recover, and who felt ready and welcomed death only brought a little comfort.

25 years later, I’m a mother, the remaining 3 grandparents and my father have died, my ex-husband has died, acquaintances have died, one of my mother’s close friends randomly dropped dead weeks after they had a combined 70th birthday party, peers have had cancer more than once. I am coming to terms that it’s not if I become ill or if I die… it’s when. I attempted suicide several years ago, again I just wanted to end my misery. I changed my mind and instead ended my misery by avoiding or rearranging my attitude on the things that made me miserable. I was in a bad car accident almost 3 years ago, and was remarkably uninjured. I feel that the days I have now are a blessing – hey… maybe I died in the crash and this is heaven?

Back when I was going through my divorce, I comforted myself by saying, “this too shall pass.” At some point, it occurred to me that “all good things come to an end” is another saying that holds true… therefore, “all things must pass” as George Harrison wrote. This includes me, my cats, my son, my sweetheart, my bffs, and everyone else.

Once I came to terms with this, I’ve become more of an observer in the river of life, trying to experience the gentle currents and doing what I can to navigate through the rapids with minimal damage. I try to take in the scenery as I go by, and to smile at the other life forms I encounter along the way.

I’ve also learned a great deal from working with older people, and seeing which traits seem more present in those that seem contented, and which are evident in the ones who are more unhappy. Even patients who aren’t so old, but are dealing with medical hardships have helped me keep a realistic perspective on the transient nature of life.

Being on several social sites, I’ve noticed that the western culture, to which most of my acquaintances belong, has evolved to avoid death and dying, and instead worships youthfulness. People who become distraught when an elderly pet or family member becomes ill seems almost a norm, as they post requests for prayers and positive thoughts. I never know what to say, because I know that the loved one is near or has even exceeded their life expectancy, so I feel it is silly to pray for them to recover. I generally hope that whatever the ultimate outcome may be, that there is minimal pain for my friend’s loved one – but I usually don’t put it in words, because it is not likely to be well-received. I would like for our culture to be more inclusive of older people (with the exception of driving… can we please test vision and hearing every 10 years after 40, and those plus behind-the-wheel skills every 5 years after 65?)

I apologize for rambling and being not well -organized. I’m having difficulty putting all my thoughts on the subject in a cohesive statement.

@hearkat, I really enjoyed reading that. Thank you for sharing so much.

I work at an elder care facility. I have decompensated liver failure. I think about death. The merits of fast and slow hourly and sometimes minutely. I see elders with various liver ailments in different stages and know that could be me. It can be very difficult to face.

I have a living will and discussed my wishes with my poa. I do not yet have a will and final testament nor have I made plans on how to handle my online accounts or taken care of my cats future. But in 6 months I would love to have that taken care of.

It would be a relief. I hear people talking about how I am still young and have a future throwing words like career, kids, family, future, retirement at me . They almost feel like weapons.

When theist friends know about the situation they say, “I’m praying for you.” I see it as acknowledgement and a way to move on from the topic. Nontheists say, “That sucks” or make no acknowledgement that I could potentially die.

I hate the phrase ‘live like you are dying.’ To me no one who has evere experienced a painful slow prognosis probably resulting in death could ever have said that.

When you are sick every day is a battle on every front. You get up and fight every day.

You are so worried about managing or possible cures that there is no enjoyment but escapeism taking care of business. And personal relationship’s take a whole new meaning. I won’t start any thing remotely along the lines of SO or fling because that is a level of escapism I am not capable of reaching.

These people have no clue. You know what I want. I feel so busy living like I have a future I don’t have time to live like I’m dying.

I actually take small comfort in that we are all dying as soon as we are introduced to life.

I have trouble relating to people and some days I have no patience or compassion. Even on those days I gaurd myself not to do anything I will regret.

As to the death part. So far I am more scared of what comes before then the actual death part. Other then it means I will have no future. Maybe the fear and questioning will come when I am closer to phase.

I’m not a sceptic, but even I have many doubts and questions concerning our fate regardless. I don’t feel that my opinion being that our minds survive death of the brain downgrades my outlook of ‘life’ any differently than the sceptic. As a theist I’m not of the mindset that we’re all taken care of or saved, so I probably value life the same as the nontheist or sceptic.