In Memoriam

We will get through this. As proven time and again, mankind will overcome this struggle as he has done before — over wars, plagues, natural calamities. This pandemic will be no different. We will find a cure or a vaccine soon enough, and we will be through this.

All of it will be behind us.

That is my worry for myself: that all this will be behind me. Including the sadness I am feeling over the countless deaths left in the wake of the pandemic.

I know my capacity to forget this experience. I can return to a neo-normal life and designate the sadness and anxiety I currently feel to the corners of my subconscious. My memory can easily re-characterize this pandemic as the pleasant time I cocooned with family and conquered my reading list.

And what a waste all this would have been.

Man and Mortality

Man has a peculiar relationship with death. For the most part, he tends to ignore her. He walks around convinced of his invulnerability. When illness or danger befalls him, however, mortality takes over his mind. Death becomes acute and all-consuming. Then, again, the moment man overcomes the danger, death immediately reverts into a remote theoretical concept. It can’t happen to me. How we so easily forget.

It is hard to grasp the idea of our own mortality. When corona struck, and the news of mounting deaths became inescapable, I was devoured by fear and anxiety. Corona reminded me that death plays no favorites, and I became keenly aware of my impotence against her.

As soon as we got over the 14-day quarantine period uneventfully, the threat of death receded and I automatically slipped back into my invincibility. With each additional day of security in lockdown, I believed less and less in my own death.

Of course, all hubris. The great reminders of the pandemic are these two immutable truths: Death comes for us all. And she comes when she wants.

Meditation on Death

As tragic as it is to lose countless lives is to emerge from this pandemic missing the opportunity to change our perspective on death. French philosopher, Montaigne, said, “Let us deprive death of its strangeness . . . Let us frequent it, let us get used to it; let us have nothing more often in mind than death . . . We do not know where death awaits us, so let us wait for it everywhere.”

Reflecting on mortality is a practice that has been advocated for centuries. Ancient Egyptians would bring out a skeleton during festivities as a reminder to enjoy because death can come at any moment. Roman generals being celebrated for their military victories had slaves continually whisper in their ear ‘Memento Mori. Remember, you are mortal’ to keep perspective. As an extension, Stoics carry memento mori tokens, Buddhists meditate on mortality.

I am trying to do the same during this quarantine. Instead of turning away from news stories of death, I sit with them. I read about the lives of the lost, think about how stealthily and suddenly the virus took over. I think about what the victims might have experienced, what belabored breathing might feel like. I think about what it might have felt like to die alone. I think about death when I am emotionally triggered, or when I run out of patience. But I also think about death when I’m happy, when i’m having a nice meal with family, or a good workout. I talk about death with family and friends. I remember my impermanence daily.

Meditating on mortality does not have to be labored or oppressive. The practice can be light and joyful, particularly when we realize that we are all on the same wave moving us forward — death ceases to be a ‘goodbye’ but a ‘see you again’. By having her continuously in mind, death becomes a little less strange, a little less scary. Mostly, she becomes a guiding spirit.

Mozart told his father, “I have made myself so thoroughly acquainted with this good and faithful friend of man, that not only has its image no longer anything alarming to me, but rather something most peaceful and consolatory. . . I never lie down at night without thinking that I may be no more before the next morning dawns. . . . I daily thank my Creator for such a happy frame of mind, and wish from my heart that every one of my fellow-creatures may enjoy the same.”

My hope is that this great reminder is not left behind me after this pandemic. Should I be fortunate to see the other side, I hope the wisdom of death’s inevitability and her unknowable timing would have seeped into my bones and integrated into my every thought and action. So that I live the rest of my days relishing the gift of each morning; reordering my priorities; embracing all that I am given — the joys and the pains; hugging my loved ones; letting go of my ego and resentments; forgetting my attachments; and laughing hard. To succeed would be to honor all those whose lives have been recently taken by this new and faithful friend, death.

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I would love to hear your thoughts. How are you all making out in these times? Please comment in the section below.

Original photo by Free Nature Stock from Pexels