Over the last few years, my life – and enjoyment of it – has changed drastically. It hasn’t been about making more money. It hasn’t been about shunning the world and ditching materialism. It hasn’t been manifesting, the law of attraction or any other self-help guru talk you may hear.
No – I’ve been thinking about death.
Not in a morbid way, but in a stoic way. The idea of being “stoic” has morphed in our own lexicon to mean something different in common usage. When we think “stoic” we picture the immovable, maybe even the curmudgeonly man who seems to never let the joy of life seep into the cracks of his stone mask.
But we couldn’t be further from the truth. Stoicism is built around a more full enjoyment of the one life we do have. It’s basic tenets call on us to embrace rationality because that rationality helps us become our most human selves. I’ve found that the deeper I dive into this quiet philosophy, the more joy, the more optimism I experience every single day. And it all started really, with two phrases.
And they both revolve around death.
Memento Mori
“Remember that you must die.”
How often to we hear ourselves reminded that we’ve only got one life to live? Yet, in the same token, how many days do we live on repeat and not strive for something more? We take this one life for granted when we set our rationality aside and pursue our base pleasures. Memento Mori is a call to act differently.
While we in the modern world focus on the “living” part of one life to live, stoics of the ancient world would call on you to meditate on death – the great equalizer of the human experience. They’d challenge you, as Epictetus did, to remind yourself that even your children could die tomorrow. Internalizing that reality forces us to act differently – it’s no longer about seeking out what’s most enjoyable, but what’s most valuable.
It’s manifested in a unique way for me. I’ve started employing memento mori and Epictetus’ teaching about my own children, and it’s even altered how I put my daughter to bed.
Instead of rushing a frenetic bedtime, these two words have prompted me to use a “check in” technique to make sure I’m tapping into my daughter’s well-being. Each night now, I’m asking her questions like “do you feel safe,” or “are you excited for a great day tomorrow?”
Thinking about my own death – and the fleeting opportunity ahead of me – I’ve found these check-in moments are some of my favorite throughout the week. And even though she’s only three, I can tell she feels special because of this intentional focus. So much so that she’s started asking the questions back to me in her own way. I’ve seen her value that personal connection.
Thinking about my death, and it’s inevitability, prompted a new action for both of us. One that I cherish and am eager to see evolve.
Dum Spiro Spero
“While I breathe, I hope.”
Eternal optimism. That’s a legacy I hope to leave for my kids. I want them to know the reason I fought so hard to work in politics and advocacy is that I believed a brighter future was both possible, and worth the struggle. And as long as there is breath in my lungs, I have the opportunity to strive for that.
What a wonderful reminder, right? A simple, poetic line that can re-frame our mindset for the everyday and the grandiose challenges alike.
Are you struggling to make ends meet? You have the breath of life within you. You can bend your brain and your braun to the task and earn more, and earn it better. You can problem solve, grow and prosper.
Are you frustrated by the state of the world or a particular public issue? You have a reason to hope because you can take on the opportunity to pursue work worth doing and change the world. While you breathe, the issue is never lost.
Your death is inevitable, but every moment you breathe, you can have hope for a brighter future. Better yet, you can work toward it.
But They Can’t Just Be Slogans
The challenge, as always, is putting these phrases to work in our own lives. They can’t remain simple slogans. Not if they are to bolster our faith, and prompt us to go forward. They call us to action. If we fail to take those actions, the lesson is of no use in our lives.
How can Memento Mori and Dum Spiro Spero change how you spend your days? How can they kickstart your life – and the enjoyment of it?
Are you willing to challenge yourself to soak in the value of every moment possible? To stop worrying about the future and instead work to create it? I hope so. We need more who will.
Part of the Possible 