Memento Mori: A Venture into Death, Travel, Tattoos, and Recalibrating Worldviews

The concept of memento mori is simple and need not be a morbid exercise. Can a journey into envisioning our own death help reframe our worldview much like the adventures we take while alive?

Photo by The Cleveland Museum of Art on Unsplash

“So—I will die one day? I will die? I—the person speaking, the person able to feel and touch myself—I must die? I find it rather difficult to believe: after all, others die, and there’s nothing more natural than that: you see it happen every day: you see them passing away, you get used to it; but for you to die, you yourself—you in person! Well, that’s a bit too much. And you, gentlemen, you who think that these reflections are a load of old nonsense, let me tell you that everyone thinks the same, you included! No one thinks that he is to die. If there were a race of immortal men, the idea of death would frighten them more than it does us.”

-Xavier de Maistre, A Nocturnal Expedition around My Room

Another summer has faded and the leaves are once again falling. Things are changing. In what direction I do not know. What I do know, is that half my life is over…or so I’m choosing to imagine it anyway.

I turned 35 in August and have found myself reflecting on a lot lately—personal goals, the many trips I hope to still embark on, loved ones who are aging or have passed away, and how best to spend my remaining time with family and friends.

We are all endowed with the forethought that one day we will reach the end of the trail, so to speak, for the final time. Curiously, however, we often forget this consequential fact. What a curious phenomenon—to put out of mind our own death. On the surface, it sounds absurd that we’d forget that one day we will die, as we’re constantly reminded about death in media, culture, and our own lives, and all the while we gradually lose those closest to us. Nevertheless, we do, unsuspectingly, forget. Sometimes, we deliberately do our best not to think about it at all.

However, I think we should meditate on the subject of death more often than we do because I sense (hope?) it will ease our transition into the great unknown and perhaps in the meantime teach us to be more understanding and a little kinder to one another. Can a journey into envisioning our own death help reframe our worldview for the better?

I recently injected some new ink into my forearm, a memento mori tattoo. The Latin phrase translates as “remember that you have to die.” I’ve been thinking about getting this tattoo for a while now and wanted to get it by the time I turned 35 as a symbol and constant reminder to make the most out of the rest of my life—to envision that I only have another 35 years left to live. Consider it an early mid-life crisis if you will. Personally, I want to die on my 100^th birthday as I have an irrational compulsion for round numbers. So no, I don’t genuinely think I’ll die when I’m 70, but I do recognize that heart problems run in the family history and the men tend not to live much beyond that, but I digress...

The concept of memento mori is a simple one and it need not be a morbid exercise. I believe it ultimately asks us to reflect on this poignant fact: Given that we all will gradually face the death of those closest to us and eventually face death ourselves, how do we learn to cope with that realization and remain mindful of it—to utilize this forethought as means of cherishing everything we hold dear?

Many of us have observed that moments of death tend to sharpen our focus, lending us a brief stint in a liminal phase of clarity or equanimity. Significant questions arise at these brief fleeting moments. How do we want to spend the rest of our waking hours? With this forethought, can we derive a better outlook on life and a way of treating one another with more dignity and respect? Travel and adventure, I believe, can fulfill this for us, but can the reflection on death do the same?

If I make it another 35 years, what will I want to have accomplished by then? Will I want to be looking back at Facebook memories of some embarrassing incoherent thing I ranted about politics or would I rather be spending that time reminiscing over the photos of my son’s past birthdays with him smiling and playing with his cousins or the many trips we took with him around the world?

Reflecting on death is a healthy exercise because it brings one’s priorities into sharper focus and makes us realize that we are all suffering or will soon suffer in this life. This simple fact ought to bind us more or at least encourage us to be more sympathetic to one another. We will lose everyone close to us, which is the harsh reality of being human. Can we not keep that in mind and temper our reactions toward one another as we go about our remaining days, months, and years? Our time is limited. We should be making the most of it. And yet, that’s easier said than done.

There are a few notable parallels between death and adventure. They both entail a journey into the unknown. They both can have us reflect on the deeper meaning of our lives. Perhaps they allow us to better recalibrate our worldview given the right attitude and mindset. Reflecting on death is a lot like experiencing an immersive adventure. We can become radically changed from a deeply meaningful trip. Likewise, sincerely meditating on our own death can dramatically reorient our place in the world and what we decide to give our remaining moments to.

However, death is also ironic in that it’s the greatest journey we take into the unknown and yet the one journey we think about or plan for the least. How can that be?

Rarely are we reminded of death, until we find ourselves sitting at a funeral. While mourning for loved ones, the truth of life becomes apparent. Though a somber occasion, we see the best qualities of humanity emerge at those precious times. What is revealed from the retelling of a person’s life and achievements from their loved ones at the podium are not just their attributes as a person, but gifts for those who remain: their kindness, gentleness, careful listening, confidence, welcoming attitude, curiosity, optimism, and determination. Perhaps the most noble thing we can do for those we lose is to embody some of their best qualities, like carrying an eternal torch in a marathon.

We only have a finite amount of time on this planet. The things I value doing–reading books, sipping coffee, traveling, having meaningful conversations—too are finite. There will come a final adventure, a final hike up the mountain. Will I know when I will be taking my final jaunt in the woods? It’s easy to think that there will always be another time. We almost will ourselves into believing in our immortality. But we do everything for the last time and often never realize it. How do we maximize these experiences and remain cognizant of their finality?

I believe these reflections on death can sincerely help reorient our worldview, much like travel and adventure, because these are instances where the clarity of life becomes most raw and we’re allowed to see what is at stake. Steve Jobs once wrote,

Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure — these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

Death and adventure teach us to embrace uncertainty and to boldly confront the actual world. The sooner we recognize the finiteness of our existence, the sooner we can redirect our attention to that which is most important to us. We should go do those things and be a part of something, whatever that something is and so long that we imbue it with sincerity and kindness. And if we have the means, take some adventures—we all deserve at least one grand adventure in our lives after all. Let us make the most of our lives with whatever time remains and never forget, memento mori.

Photo and tattoo by Kay Roberston at Top Quality Tattoos in Bloomington, Indiana.

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Cheers!

-JSB