Weekly Musing #26 When you know are going to die, you can finally start living.

It’s as simple as that.

One day we’ll all be dead.

I was going to write “gone” or “not here anymore” or some other less harsh way of describing it, just actually writing “dead” felt blunt and insensitive, but hey, let's call a spade a spade, ok?

How did you feel reading that you will be dead soon?

If we count soon in centuries, everyone on LinkedIn today will be dead soon.

How does that feel?

Scary? Completely incomprehensible? Depressing?

When interviewing Erik Ohlzon for my Innovation Fika last week, we touched upon the joy of experiencing physical abilities and the importance of showing gratitude. After our talk I realized that yes, I really enjoy being alive, I enjoy waking up to a new day, being able to bike to work, I like having breakfast (I love breakfast) and my job feels important.

Small things, sure, but all in all I am grateful and happy.

But for a long time I have felt that we have very unhealthy relationship with death, especially our own.

I remember way back, 15-20 years ago maybe, when we were creating a website for “the last message”, it was meant to be place where you could record a video message for your loved ones that would be sent to them in case of you passing away.

(Well, not in case, we all have to go, so yes, when passing away.)

The idea came from a guy that when on his way to work suddenly had a realization. The morning had been chaotic, the kids had been messy and he was really stressed. So he ended up storming out of the house having told everyone off.

Fifteen minutes later he was sitting in his car and had a terrible thought;

What if he had an accident and was killed on his way to work, and the last thing his daughters remembered of him was that he was really angry and told them off?

So he contacted me and together with some others we set out to create a service where one could record a video message in which one could say those last chosen words to the ones that meant the most to you.

The process of creating the service was one part technical and instrumental; build a web site that could do this and that, design it to work this way etc.

It had lots of technical features like kill switches for social media accounts, a place for instructions for the details that only you might know, like the insurance papers, bank accounts, passwords etc.

The other part of the process became almost philosophical - it led us to start talking a lot about death and the inevitability of it.

Speaking about death wasn’t a new concept for me, during my years in the army we had to contemplate and talk about the possibility of both being killed but also being forced to kill. How did we feel morally about that? And how did we feel about putting ourselves in harms way like that?

For the website, we interviewed lots of people and realized that some, especially the ones in fields of work that deal with death on a daily basis, they have usually thought about it, maybe not their own so much specifically but they tend to have a more down to earth relationship to the concept of dying.

I remember speaking to a lady who was an avid motorbike rider who told us that she never left home without that special letter to her children that she carried when riding, if and in case.

Wow, almost our service, right there.

But my biggest revelation came when speaking to my own mother. She told me that she had never left home for a trip without leaving a hand-written letter hidden in a kitchen drawer, addressed to me and my sister.

All this led us to believe that the service was both needed and necessary, that by helping people contemplate their own death, we would help them feel better about being alive.

How it went?

Not at all.

We had completely underestimated people’s ingrained fear of death, especially their own. We didn’t grasp what we are asking them to do. (“Sit down in front of your web cam and record a message to your children as if you have died”).

Not only were we pushing the limits of their feeling of personal integrity, we were forcing them to face one of their biggest fears.

The step we were asking them to take was simply to big.

In the years afterwards I have thought of lots of ways of how we could have made it work, by easing people into it, by not asking them to record only one (1) last message, but a series of messages, like a video diary, giving their kids and grandkids a way to experience the past as well as getting that last message.

But this post isn’t about a failed internet startup, this post is about life and death, and my personal relationship with it.

In today’s society we are so caught up with eternal youth and trying to stay young as long as possible, and then we multiply that with a very unhealthy sense of individualism that make people almost insulted to think that they might have to die… “Me? Die? That is SO unfair!!”

We say things like "if I die", not "when" or "how".

Why don't we say "When I die"?

Being so afraid of confronting our own death can mean that we lose track of how to live. If we spend our lives trying to avoid death, do we really appreciate the time we are alive?

It’s ironic really, in fearing death, we inadvertently allow life to slip through our fingers, unappreciated and under-lived.

I think the only way of coming to terms with this is understanding and accepting the inevitability of your own demise. But not in a depressive way, no, on the contrary, be happy and full of joy for every new day you get to spend alive!

Come to peace with the cycles of nature and life and see yourself as part of it.

Spend more time doing things you enjoy and less time doing things you don’t. Try new things to see if there are new experiences worth adding to the mix.

Get, and stay, in touch with the people you want to have in your life. Make sure to speak to and visit your parents while they are still alive.

It sure beats only laying down a wreath on their grave once they are gone.

Thing is, it’s so easy to say “let’s have lunch one day” or “we need to stay in touch” and then suddenly another year has passed.

No, if you really want to keep people in your life, you need to create some kind of a system. Or at least I know I do.

For friends I want to meet with regularly, I book recurring meetings or recurring activities. I have lunch with Patrik, one of my best friends from high school, every other Tuesday. And with Michael, my other best friend who lives in the US, I have a phone meeting booked the first Friday of the month, and then I meet Johan for breakfast the second Thursday every month.

Me and my sister have a check-in phone call every Wednesday morning, and my mother writes me a weekly update on what has happened the past week on the other side of Sweden on Messenger every Sunday, and I write back with my summary of the week.

The good thing with the booked meetings is that if we ever miss one, which of course we do once in a while, we know that there will be another one coming up next week or next month.

And sometimes I sit down and write an actual card.

When was the last time you wrote an physical card or a letter and sent it to someone?

These small moments of interaction, the bonds we create and keep alive, they keep us alive as well.

If you can learn how to appreciate the small things, you'll be a luckier happier person.

A cup of coffee and a cheese sandwich after a hike in the forest.

Dancing to a great song.

Working out.

For me it’s the small moments that count, and I strongly believe that our ability to see the largeness in small things is vital for our mental wellbeing.

And regarding death, I feel that I have reached a place of peace with the concept of death.

I am not afraid of dying.

I know I am going to die.

Of course I don't want to die, I would also very much like to avoid suffering and a long drawn out process, but I have come to terms with aging and the simple fact that time takes care of itself and all we can do is take care of each other during the time we have here.

The inevitability of death should remind us that every day is a gift, an opportunity to create, to love, and to be present in the lives of those we love and care for.

By accepting the inevitable, we free ourselves to experience the full spectrum of life, with all its beauty, complexity, and flaws.

I often talk about death when talking about my life and my ventures, all the times I have tried and not succeeded, all the windmills that I have ridden off to fight.

I still don’t know if I will ever get where I am going or if I will succeed with what I am trying to do, but one thing I do know - when my time comes, as I know it will, I want to be able to look myself in the mirror and say “well at least I tried, and I sure as heck enjoyed the ride.”

I know my time is limited, as is yours dear reader, so let’s make the most of it, shall we?