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Most people don't want to think about death. It feels scary. It feels morbid. But what if contemplating death wasn't about fear, but actually was a powerful way to appreciate life? You're listening to Relish, the podcast for people ready to stop chasing self-improvement and start savoring their lives. If you're tired of the hamster wheel of healing and hungry for more joy, presence, and meaning, you're in the right place. Hi friends, welcome back to Relish. I'm Alysia. This podcast is about stepping off autopilot and coming back into presence so that you can actually experience your life while you're here living it. And today we are going deep
in service of that of living your life fully. Today I want to talk about contemplating death and why I come back to it again and again as a practice for deeper presence. If this podcast has supported you in any way, I so appreciate you taking a moment to follow the show, download this episode so that you can be notified of future episodes. And please leave a five-star rating and a little short review. It really helps this work reach more people. So now the topic of the day is death. Death has always fascinated me. Even as a child, I was kind of a weird kid, but not in a dark way. It was more a curious way. And it's not common in our culture or our society to talk about death.
Really, most of our society avoids these conversations and really avoids even thinking that it's going to happen to us at all. And as I got older, especially through my mindfulness practice and my interest in the human experience, I have become more and more intrigued by the fact that there are only two experiences that every single human shares. The first is that we are born and the second of course is that we all will die. Now no matter how different our lives are, anyone you meet has been born and one day they will pass. So that shared reality has always been really profound to me. And in Buddhism there's a contemplative practice called maranasati or it means mindfulness of death. There
are various meditative practices with it. Some involve reflecting on the inevitability of death. Sometimes it's a reflection on the impermanence of the body. Sometimes it's through asking, "If this were my last day, how would I want to be living?" It's not meant to scare us. It's meant to wake us up. It reminds us of impermanence. It helps to clarify what matters. I find it actually really helps me become more present. It brings me into this moment. The Buddha encouraged monks to remain mindful of the potential of death at any moment to deepen their appreciation and gratitude for the preciousness of human life. And this ongoing awareness of death was encouraged to loosen attachments to desires and fears that lead to
suffering. When we deeply understand that nothing's guaranteed, not even tomorrow, it changes how we relate to today. So this practice shifts not only our relationship with death, but also our relationship with life. Contemplating [snorts] death for me has not led to fear or urgency or scarcity, but actually it's led to meaning. When I remember that I'm going to die, I become more present, more honest, more selective about what matters. It clarifies how I want to live. And I don't want to die filled with regret. I want to meet death whenever it comes with peace. I'm not saying I want to die. I want to live a long healthy life. But I also want to live without avoiding the truth that I
will die. And whenever that time comes, I want to be okay with myself and with how I've lived. This really came alive for me through my dog Kristen. Uh what's funny is I didn't even want a dog actually at first. My partner Kristen wanted one. I did not. We kind of compromised by fostering. This was obviously a foster fail. So we were assigned Kristen. She was she's this beautiful border collie whippit mix. Just gorgeous. But she was not friendly. Uh, she had been in a kennel for a year, abandoned, abused. She was not socialized. She did not like other people or other dogs. And foster families kept sending her back. She hated everyone. Everyone except for me.
She attached to me immediately. And somehow me, this like grumpy non-d dog person. Or so I thought. I attached right back to her. And from the beginning, she was sick. We didn't know how seriously, but she was, you know, getting sick all over the house. I won't get too graphic, but all the time. And it started to make sense why no one would keep her for more than a couple of days. And Christian was a little bit nervous, rightfully so, hesitant, like, I don't know about this. And I was like, nope, we are keeping the dog. So, we adopted her pretty quickly. And within a week, she was hospitalized for 7 days. She was only 2 years old. And after every test imaginable and
thousands and thousands of dollars of hospital fees, the vet told us that she had endstage liver disease. They gave her six months to live and I was absolutely devastated. She was my spirit animal, my soul sister, my I mean really she was my catalyst to personal growth. In many ways I feel I owe her my life. But now I had made this commitment to give this dog the best life possible. I made her food from scratch. I meal prepped it. I took her to see every vet, holistic and not um gave her, you know, supplements. Never left her alone. I really wanted to keep her as stress-free as possible. And something interesting happened. living with a terminally ill dog meant I was always aware that this could be her
last day. And of course, you know, we always know no one's going to live forever, but we don't think about it. To be so aware, so present to death daily changed the way I interacted with her. So every day when she would come up to me and interrupt me while I was working, she'd put her paws on my keyboard or, you know, ask me to play, I would actually stop every time and I'd tell her I love her and I'd play with her. I really paid attention. And it's not because I was being super disciplined. It was because I was always aware, remembering that death could be here any moment. And I wanted to appreciate every moment I had with her. She was so special to me.
Kristen ended up living almost five years. And what eventually took her life wasn't even the liver disease. It was a sudden unpredictable cancer. For 5 years, I lived with this awareness of her mortality daily. And I always expected that when the moment came, when she died, that I would be shattered. I loved her so much. I thought I would die without her. But when the moment came, I was with her as she passed. I actually felt peace. Not numbness, not denial, but peace. I think in some ways I had grieved her while she was still alive. And I didn't have any regrets. I had been so present. And because of that, her death didn't feel like something unfinished.
It felt complete in a way. and I still feel so connected to her. And that was now over five years ago. She died in 2020. I have so many memories because of the presence we shared. And it was fascinating to me how much that dog taught me about being human. But that experience also taught me that being present before loss changes or can at least for me it changed how I experienced loss and contemplating death regularly. It didn't pull me away from life. It pulled me into presence. So for me contemplating death it's not about the afterlife. It's not about earning my way into heaven or avoiding hell or preparing for enlightenment or something like that. It's about being here.
Mindfulness trains us to stop resisting what is and one day death will be what is and more importantly right now today is what is and I don't want to miss it. So this practice of contemplating death there are many ways to approach it but something to know is it doesn't stick. It's not like something you think about it once, you have a breakthrough and then you live perfectly present to it forever. It wears off. We forget. We get scared. We avoid thinking about it. We go back on autopilot. This is just normal. You know, we're human. We're going to wake up to things. We're going to drift away. This is happening throughout our lives. And I think many of us see this when someone dies, a loved one, a friend, a pet. There's this
moment of awakening sometimes, like, "Oh my gosh, I want to be here more. I want to uh tell the people I love that I love them. I don't want to waste my life." And then time passes and we forget. Which is why this is a practice. It's not a one-time realization. And instead of waiting for the people that we love to pass and teach us this lesson, we can be learning and benefiting from this practice along the way. So here's a question that you might sit with. If I really remembered that my time was limited, or maybe if this were my last day, how would I be living it? Would I be more present, more loving, more awake? That's the gift of this practice for me. So, I've included a little dessert meditation today alongside this episode. It's like a
light introduction to the practice where I guide you through exploring this safely and compassionately. if you want to give it a go. Remembering that you're going to die one day is not about being morbid. It's about remembering that you get to live. It can bring you out of scarcity actually and into abundance. Okay, so that's your quick bite. Maybe this was a little longer than a quick bite for today. Um, but if this resonated, please share it with someone you love. Don't forget to follow the show, leave a review. It really helps support this work. This practice changed how I live and I hope that it offers you something meaningful too. We don't have to wait for loss to remember what matters. We can practice remembering it
now. So go and relish your beautiful, precious life and I'll see you next time.
