A powerful morning practice to bring death contemplation into your daily life
The Buddhist practice of The Five Remembrances is one of the best ways to start integrating the awareness of death into your day-to-day experience.
The life of the Buddha was marked from the beginning by death and loss.
His mother died shortly after childbirth, just seven days after he was born. He was raised by her sister, his aunt, who later became the first Buddhist nun.
This detail is often ignored or glossed over in stories about the Buddha’s life, but it’s always felt significant to me: The Buddha was a child who lost his mother.
As a mother, I can’t help but think that this early maternal absence has something to do with the fact that the Buddha’s entire philosophy, really, is about impermanence.
One of the core Buddhist teachings is the basic reality that nothing lasts—and therefore, there’s nothing fixed or permanent for us to grasp onto. And it’s our grasping that causes us to suffer.
That’s why meditating on impermanence is considered the “supreme meditation.” Because embracing impermanence—and death as the ultimate expression of impermanence—is where our ultimate freedom lies.
When we can accept (and even embrace) the fact that everything changes and passes away, we can release our death grip on whatever brings us a sense of security and control. We can let go of the riverbank, and allow ourselves to flow with the current; navigating the never-ending waves of change with a courageous heart and a steady mind.
The Five Remembrances
One of the simplest and most powerful practices for meditating on impermanence (and contemplating death) is the The Five Remembrances, a set of truth statements found in the Upajjhatthana Sutta ("Subjects for Contemplation”) that the Buddha instructed his disciples to meditate upon.
These clear, sharp statements remind us that everything changes, and that one day we will lose everything, including our own life.
Here’s my favorite translation, from Vietnamese Zen master Thich Naht Hahn:
I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.
I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape ill health.
I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.
All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.
My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground on which I stand.
Each statement offers a different window into the basic existential reality of impermanence. Together, they offer a reality check designed to wake us up to the present moment—the only moment we ever really have.
As Zen priest Koun Franz describes the practice: “It’s complete. It’s Buddhism at its very, very best. It’s perfectly clear. It’s perfectly compassionate. It’s perfectly concise. And you can’t argue with it.”
Working with the Five Remembrances
There are different ways to work with the Five Remembrances, but in essence, you simply memorize and recite these five statements, aloud or silently, on a daily basis. Typically you do this first thing in the morning, but you can ritualize this practice in any way that works for you. Write them in your journal and reflect on one each day. Recite them before a meal, like saying grace. Maybe recite them before bed each night, taking a moment to honor the day that’s passed—another day that brings you closer to your last.
The practice is simple, but not necessarily easy. Starting your day by reminding yourself that you’re going to grow old, get sick, die, and lose everything and everyone you love is not for the faint of heart. But as we like to say here at Hello, Mortal, death is only morbid if you miss the point.
These reminders aren’t about “focusing on the negative” or bracing yourself for the inevitable. They’re about reminding yourself that you are alive right now—and that you have the incredible privilege of choosing how you live your life. As the fifth remembrance says, our actions are the only thing that we take with us in the end. We will be remembered by the way we treated others, the things we dedicated ourselves most deeply to, the values we embodied, and the contributions we made.
It's also about reminding ourselves that life is full of endings. We will die a million deaths before we actually die. And our freedom lies in our ability to embrace all of life’s endings, big and small—the constant flow of transitions in our relationships, careers, family lives and journeys of personal growth. Nothing ever stays the same; at least, not for long.
Setting the Tone
The more you repeat these statements, the more that things start to shift inside of you. The pieces start getting rearranged internally. You don’t really have to try to think or analyze your way through them. In fact, it’s better if you don’t. You just have to turn your focus in the direction of these truths, and let them permeate your consciousness.
What I’ve found is that allowing these statements to set the tone for my days anchors my awareness in a few important things:
My gratitude the fact that I’m alive, and that I have the basic freedom to live a life that is true to myself
My desire to spend more time on what truly matters, and less on what doesn’t
My deeper values and the importance of acting in a way that reflects my values
This contemplation can quickly become something very practical: a decision-making metric that guides our daily choices. It shows us how to live fully, with joy and authenticity, in this moment, and the next, and the next.
Right now, what that looks like for me is stepping away from the increasingly toxic landscape of social media (more on that in a future newsletter); only taking on new projects and clients that are truly worth my while; and not letting myself get derailed by stress around things that I can’t control.
If you’ve never tried a death contemplation practice before, I invite you to consider starting today. And if you feel compelled to explore this practice, I’d love to hear how it lands for you. Drop me a line at carolyn@hellomortal.com or simply respond to this email. (Or better yet, become a paid member to join our next Death Over Coffee salon!)
— Carolyn
I love this line: "another day that brings you closer to your last." I was at a funeral yesterday, talking to a friend I have known for many years. She was the nanny for my grandsons when they were little. They are adults now. Family and friends were gathered together for a meal celebrating the life of the deceased. I turned to my friend and asked her a question. She is from France and has lived here for 35 years. Her family is in France. I asked her where she wanted to be buried. I knew she wouldn't take offense at that, and she didn't, but the question captured the interest of others at the table. I shared with her that my wife, who she knew very well, would pull out a folder each summer, and we would sit at the dining room table to update our funeral plans. It was a ritual of security for her. She liked to put things behind her, so as part of our plans, we discussed what we could get rid of. What possessions, debts, etc., could we eliminate so our family wouldn't have to worry about them? The process of an annual review of our end-of-life plans was reassuring. It helped us focus on the inevitable and the blessings of the present at the same time. My wife passed in April of last year. Her plan was implemented to the letter, just as she wanted it. It is hard to update mine without her, but I know how important it is.
I’m sorry for your loss, Bill. I hope it brought some comfort to be able to fulfill your wife’s final wishes. I’m very inspired by your idea of an “annual review” of end of life wishes.