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I recently set a new rule for myself:
If I ever find myself wondering, “Should I attend X person’s funeral?” I default to yes.
Last month, one of my uncle’s parents passed away but because I barely knew them, my initial reaction was, “It’s another busy work week. I hardly know the person. Is this really a funeral I should attend?”
I’m glad I did.
For some time now, I’ve been meaning to write an essay titled, “Injury, Sickness, and Near-Death Encounters” to explore the question: would our lives be better off without these painful experiences? I’m not so sure.
Because these experiences often provide invaluable perspective.
Confucious wisely said, “A healthy man wants a thousand things. A sick man only wants one.” In talking to people about these types of suffering, it’s unusual that a deep gratitude for the simple things in life often emerges as a result. It’s a magical paradox.
Death is the ultimate giver of perspective.
I should be clear. Setting this new rule for myself (to default “yes” when I’m unsure about attending a funeral) is not motivated by altruism. It’s very much self-interested.
Because every time I’ve attended a funeral, I’ve left with newfound perspective. About my priorities. About my “problems”. About the fragility of life.
The great computer scientist Alan Kay once said, “A change of perspective is worth 80 IQ points.” If this resonates (which it deeply does for me), then what does it mean for the value of remembering death? It must be immense.
It’s interesting that the Latin phrase Memento Mori (‘remember that you die’) was used in various cultures throughout history as a reminder of one’s mortality but that, in modern times, we lack a cultural equivalent. Especially because inertia can be so dangerous.
As we (in our hyper-developed culture) preoccupy ourselves with careers, entertainment, and social media, it’s so easy to forget death. The anthropologist Ernest Becker, author of The Denial of Death (1973), would have said that this is not an accident.
Instead, he’d explain that our distracting ourselves with work, technology, and society is just one of many coping mechanisms to deal with the great terror that is our mortality.
Personally, I have no interest in deluding myself about the harsh realities of life. In fact, as I reflect on the activities I’m most drawn to I realize that acquiring greater perspective is a throughline.
Exercise exposes my physical limitations. Conversation reminds me that my worldview is just one of billions (and may be wrong). Reading shows me how little I know of the world. Writing shows me how little I know of my mind.
Acquiring heightened perspective is not easy but is important.
Typically, I find little value in giving general advice. But I think these two pieces of advice are both widely applicable and deeply valuable:
(1) Remember death and (2) seek perspective.
