What Do We Say to the God of Death?

First published on September 11, 2019

Ah, death.

There you are again. Circling my client, present in the life of a stranger, here, everywhere, across the world.

I found myself writing something like this in an email today: "A sense of our own mortality is a powerful tool for allowing us to understand what is deeply important in our life." I've written before about how Fred Kofman says that CEOs who have had a near death experience are more effective leaders than those who haven't, and how Kofman guides people he works with through a controlled experience to show them their mortality.

Death, you are a constant, you are always here. You are uncomfortable and you are certain. You are something we can try to control, but we know, in the end, that we aren't able to fight you off forever. Some of my favourite stories and favourite characters deal with death.

The image that comes to my mind of David Gemmell's aging warrior, Druss, is standing on battlements, shaking his fist at the sky, denying Death for another day.

And Arya Stark, George RR Martin's gutsy girl-turned-ruthless assassin, knows what to say to the God of Death: 'Not today.'

If that, then, is all we can do: stand and fight death defiantly; say to him or her, 'Not today'. Then what?

Then make life count.

Wake up. Don't sleepwalk through it. Do whatever it takes to wake up. Write yourself a eulogy, think about what would make you sad at the end of your life. Splash yourself in the face with icy water.

Use the tools you have available to do this: connect to something bigger by going into nature or singing with a group or connecting to a cause that matters to you.

Feel something. Today. Take yourself there. Let yourself go there.

Make life count.

Make something better. Just a little bit, if that's all you can do.

As Jordan Peterson says (and my friend Dom said, even more articulately), if where you need to start with this is get out of bed then - well - that's better than not getting out of bed. If creating a tiny bit of order from what feels like overwhelming chaos in your life is all you can do then - well - that's better than not creating any order from the chaos.

If you can choose, in a moment, to listen less to the more base, human parts of you and instead listen more to the higher, nobler, wiser parts of you, then do that. Do it as often as you can. Be kinder, be more skilful, leave less mess in the wake of your relationships.

Make life count.

Heal something. Anything. Pay someone back, make an apology. You can't guarantee the something will be healed, or will go back how it was, but you can do your part. And that's something, eh?

Plant something. Anything. If you can, make it something amazing, like the woodland that my mum (with help from my dad, me and many others) planted nine years ago. Negotiate for the land, like she did. Ask for the trees, like she did. No one who walks through that wood won't be enhanced by it, won't be more alive, from now and for many years.

Start something. Anything, but above all don't leave it unstarted. Don't leave it untried.

Make life count.

Or, at least, try. If you've tried, then that - at least - is something.