How do you feel about the idea of dying? Is it something you think about often? Or does it make you feel anxious?
If sex was a taboo in the 19th century, death is a taboo of the modern age. Most of us are taught that death is something we should shy away from and try to forget about. If we start contemplating our own mortality—so this traditional wisdom goes—we'll become anxious and depressed.
Whereas our ancestors would have regularly watched people die and seen dead bodies, we're shielded from death by modern medical practices. People usually die in hospitals rather than at home, and soon after death, their bodies are taken to funeral homes, where we usually have to make an appointment to see them.
But I have consistently found in my research as a psychologist that surviving an encounter with death—or even just seriously contemplating death—can have a powerful positive effect.
I've found that people who survive accidents, serious illnesses, and other close brushes with mortality look at the world with new eyes. They no longer take life—and the people in their lives—for granted.
They have a new ability to live in the present, with a new appreciation for small and simple things, such as being in nature, looking at the sky and the stars, and spending time with family.
They also have a wider sense of perspective, so worries that had oppressed them before no longer seem important. And they become less materialistic and more altruistic. Their relationships become more intimate and authentic.
And in many cases, these effects don't disappear. Although they may become slightly less intense over time, they become established as permanent traits.
In my book Extraordinary Awakenings, I discussed several cases of transformation following an encounter with death. I wrote about a lady called Irene who was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 42. Her transformation occurred straight after she received her cancer diagnosis. As she told me,
“It was the first time I’d seen death as a reality and realised that life is just temporary…The air was so clean and fresh and everything I looked at seemed so vibrant and vivid. The trees were so green, and everything was so alive. I became aware of this energy radiating from the trees. I had a tremendous feeling of connectedness.”
Fortunately, Irene's cancer went into remission, but she remained in a heightened state of awareness. As she described it,
“That feeling was really intense for the first few weeks, and it’s remained ever since...I used to just sit and think, ‘This is amazing that things could just fall into place so quickly.’”
The poet and author Mark Nepo had a similar life-changing experience when he was diagnosed with cancer. When I met Nepo at a conference in 2018, he told me that, even now, more than 30 years later,
“I’m simply glad to wake up and be here. I literally became a different person…It was like going through a gate. You look back and then the gate you have come through has disappeared, and you know there is no going back. And having left that gate, the world is a completely different place.”
Such encounters with death can wake us up. They may snap us out of a trance-like state in which we are indifferent to life and unaware of the blessings in our lives. But I think we can gain some of these benefits by simply contemplating death. In my new book, The Adventure, I suggest some ways of doing this.
In the Buddhist tradition, monks in ancient times were advised to meditate in cemeteries or to sit down next to any dead, decaying bodies they found on their travels. They were advised to contemplate that one day, this would be their fate, too, as a way of becoming aware of the impermanence of life and the foolishness of being attached to the world.
We can do something similar, if not as extreme. Every so often, why not visit your local cemetery? Spend some time alone amongst the gravestones, reading the inscriptions, contemplating the fragility and impermanence of life. Sit on a bench and meditate for a few minutes to clear your mind of everyday concerns and associative thoughts.
Remind yourself of the fragility and preciousness of your life.
Over the past few years, "death cafes" have been a growing phenomenon. People gather together to discuss death, discussing their feelings and attitudes. In my view, this is something we should do regularly.
In addition, when people close to you are in the process of dying, it's important to share their company. Comfort and support them. Help them to face the reality of death, encouraging them into a mode of acceptance so that they will pass serenely. At the same time, take the opportunity to face the reality of death yourself, contemplating that you will be in the same position at some point in the future.
Death is always present, and its transformational power is always accessible to us. Becoming aware of our mortality can be a liberating and awakening experience, which can—paradoxically, it might seem—help us live authentically and fully, perhaps for the first time in our lives.
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