I wouldn’t say I’m obsessed with death. I would say I’m obsessed with living.
But, I think to get the most out of life we must think about our own mortality, uncomfortably often.
At 24-years-old, I think about my own mortality more than I would care to admit. I remind myself that it could be either close or far away on the horizon –– or perhaps somewhere in between.
I also try to remind myself that the people I love aren’t going to be here forever either –– that like everyone who has ever come into this world screaming, eventually, they too will breathe their last breath.
When I feel myself playing it safe… when I feel myself not giving this world everything I got… when I feel myself not being fully present around those I love… I remind myself.
I remind myself that all of us start dying the day we are born. And, that for some of us, it comes quickly. It steals life from us in an instance. And, for others, we grow old and hairless and hopefully not mind-less.
When you regularly remind yourself that you are one car accident, one doctor's call, one misstep away from everything going dark… you give yourself permission to live.
I suppose I’m trying to give myself permission to live.
By Cole Schafer.
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