Coming to Peace with My Mortality

I think this morning was the first quiet morning I had alone in Zürich since Cleo was born. I decided spontaneously to go to the lake—I went for a dip, then unrolled my mat and practiced yoga on the grass nearby. It reminded me of my earlier years here in Zürich, when I was single, and I really enjoyed it.

Afterward, I sat in meditation and started reflecting on my mortality. I thought that I could be diagnosed with a deadly disease and might die soon. I decided to work with this in my practice.

Rather than push the thoughts away, I let them in and shifted my awareness beyond the small self tied to my body and mind. Instead I identified with the larger web of life—the vast, interconnected system we’re all part of.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the green trees in the sunlight, and I realized: those trees would still be here if I were gone. And strangely, that felt comforting. Then I thought about how even the leaves of these trees are dying, and about the cycle of life—how everything is born, changes for a while*, and eventually passes. This includes atoms, single-cell organisms, animals, plants, societies, mountains, galaxies, and even the universe.

I didn’t feel alone anymore thinking about my death, but in community. And I recognized: Yes, I will die like everything else. And that felt okay. To be alive means, eventually, to die. It’s part of the deal. I am not alone—and life as a whole continues, in shorter and longer cycles of birth and death.

*I write "changes for a while," because while we tend to see things as static objects, in reality, they are changing continuously. There are no things—there is just process, change.