Confronting Mortality
The thought of reaching the end of life and finding that we have spent it on things we did not care about is uncomfortable. Yet it is remarkably easy to put that thought aside. Work gives us something urgent to attend to; entertainment gives us something pleasant to anticipate. A full day leaves little room to question whether we are satisfied with the life those days are adding up to.
Pleasure can become an answer we settle into without much thought. We pursue experiences, relationships, and achievements because they feel good, and there is much in them worth pursuing. The difficulty arises when keeping ourselves occupied becomes a way of avoiding questions we do not know how to answer. As long as there is another task to finish or something to look forward to, we can postpone thinking about what we actually want from our lives.
Our mortality makes that postponement consequential. We know our time is limited, but often make decisions as though there will always be an opportunity to reconsider them. We can change careers later, repair a neglected relationship later, or work out what matters once the immediate demands have passed. Each delay may seem reasonable on its own. Taken together, they can determine how much of our lives we leave unexamined.
The questions tend to return when something interrupts our usual routine. Losing a job, becoming ill, or losing someone we love can force us to reconsider what had seemed important. Without our familiar occupations, we may discover how much we relied on them to keep difficult thoughts at a distance. What concerns me is how easily we can build a life around that avoidance, making choices to relieve our unease without understanding what is causing it.
A film can hold our attention from scene to scene and still leave us disappointed when the credits roll. The individual scenes may be entertaining, yet we struggle to see what they amounted to. I think the analogy is useful for life as well: a succession of enjoyable or productive days does not necessarily leave us satisfied with how we have spent our time. We also need some understanding of why those activities matter to us.
Of course, a life cannot be planned like a film. We do not know the ending, and our interests and commitments change as we live. There is also a reasonable objection to the whole exercise: perhaps life requires no grand meaning. Following our interests, caring for people, and seeing where those choices take us may be enough.
I think confronting mortality can help us do precisely that. It need not lead to a single purpose or a desire to leave a legacy. Becoming more comfortable with death may help us recognise when fear, rather than interest or conviction, is directing our choices. We may then be better able to pursue what matters to us without constantly needing something to distract us from the fact that it will end.
This requires time for reflection. Which parts of our lives would we choose again? What do we keep putting off, and what are we waiting for? When we reach for something to occupy us, are we enjoying it, or are we unwilling to be alone with our thoughts? These questions are difficult to answer honestly, especially when the answers suggest that something needs to change.
We are unlikely to settle them in one sitting. But returning to them while we can still act gives us a chance to live more deliberately. I would rather face the discomfort of reconsidering my choices now than discover, much later, that I had kept myself busy to avoid making them.
Disclaimer: The ideas presented in this post are solely my personal perspective and have not been substantiated by any verifiable evidence. Please form your own opinions on such matters.