1. How many times a day can I remember my mortality?
When I do, can I cherish the impermanence? Can I bring ecstasy into this very moment? Can I receive this incredible and unrepeatable gift?
2. If it’s true, can I remind myself that I’m closer to death than to birth?
This is not about measuring years on a calendar but acknowledging that we may have more behind us than ahead of us. The arc of life is unknown but often we start to truly contemplate death in later years. If that’s true for you, it’s a closer ally than birth. Make it a friend!
3. Is this an opportunity to let go and surrender?
Death, at its heart, is the ultimate surrender. Can I practice that art now, in small and everyday ways? For example, more quickly letting go of the need to be right? Or surrender to the discomfort of uncertainty? Or release the grip of control?
4. Can I receive everything—even the undesired?
Life, like death, does not arrive only in forms we welcome. The uninvited—the grief, the pain, the fear—can also be part of the feast. Can I train myself to receive it all, trusting that even what is hard holds gifts?
5. Can I practice what I want to experience at the moment of my death?
If I envision my final moments as peaceful, loving, or ecstatic, what would it take to weave those characteristics into life now?
6. What will it take to live into the qualities that make for a “good death”?
A “good death” isn’t something we stumble into. It’s cultivated, like a garden. Some of the universal qualities include receptivity and presence and soulfulness. Can I play with those in my life now to deepen my capacity to live and to die?
7. Ponder this question: “If death came right at this moment, could I say yes?”
What comes up? Can I be present with whatever arises when I ask this question? Can I keep asking it even if what comes up is difficult? Can I be grateful that this moment at least is free from death?
A death practice is, in essence, a life practice. It roots us in the now, clears the noise, and softens the edges of our resistance. It prepares us. It humbles us. It helps us walk in wonder.
This week, I invite you to choose one of these questions and sit with it. Let it guide your days and shape your actions. What might it teach you about living, loving, and letting go?
