Meditation on Death 05

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One afternoon, I found myself deeply immersed in a feeling of failure. It all started with organizing my inbox. I was diligently deleting spam emails and saving important ones from the hundreds that had piled up. Before I knew it, several hours had passed. Inadvertently, while reading through old emails, I found myself reliving the past.

Those old emails that I saved were praises and thank-you notes from my colleagues at work. My bosses referred to me as the “Rolling Diamond” and used to take me along to important meetings. They invested in me and sent me on long training trips to the United States and Singapore. Reflecting on the confident and shining version of myself back then, I couldn’t help but lament my current sorry state.

It has been more than two years since I took a break from work. Thanks to my husband, I can pursue my dreams without worrying about making a living, but relying on someone has never been comfortable for me, perhaps because of my pride. While my body was at ease during the time that wasn’t filled with labor, my mind remained tired and anxious. Naturally, I ended up taking care of all the household chores myself. As a Millennial woman who has been educated to live with the goal of self-realization just like men, I couldn’t erase the thought that I was a failure while folding laundry in sweat pants in the middle of the day.

I sat down to meditate, trying to wash away the thoughts that felt like salt was sprinkled all over them. It was a tough day to rid myself of dark thoughts. From the beginning, I felt a strange sensation. It was as if my mind was empty like a cloud, and yet, it was filled with all the clutter of the world floating around like cartoonish debris in front of my eyes.

At some point, I entered a state of oblivion. It felt as if the sensory brain and the thinking brain had separated. When I focused all my strength on the sensory brain, it felt like the thinking brain’s power was shutting off, even though it lasted only for a few seconds. Amidst the sounds of the air purifier that I had been using as a meditation aid for over a year, I discovered a new sound. It sounded like a dark waterfall, one I had never heard before. Even within the simple sound of the air purifier, there seemed to be thousands of different sounds. As I obsessively grasped onto that sound, the words of success or failure no longer approached me.

I struggled for a while with the feeling of becoming a useless, idle person after quitting my job. I wanted to write and achieve self-realization, and I wanted to help others through that. If I could do that, it seemed like there would be nothing else I could hope for. However, as I meditated on death, I came to realize that even that was my own selfish desire. Would a fallen, crushed acorn, still green and unripe, bemoan its own uselessness as it was trampled by a passersby? Would it lament its inability to become a delicious Dotori-muk like others? I realized that the notion of needing to accomplish something and be helpful to others was simply my over-inflated ego. Because the thought that I had to become something tormented me.

After meditating on death, I could see a calm version of myself, observing myself as I am. The moment I melted away and blended into the world, forgetting myself, I realized something. That it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to live out my life without receiving recognition or being useful to anyone.. and that no deity would blame or reproach me…  

There was another time when death made me let go of my obsession with success. It was during the period when I was suffering from depression while working at a company that everyone regarded highly. I couldn’t quit because of that perception. Even when my depression worsened to the point of suicidal thoughts, I couldn’t let go. It was because I didn’t want to be a failure. Now, I have reached a state of contentment after making a peace agreement with myself to become a happy loser rather than an unhappy winner. I now understand how reckless and ignorant it was to entertain the extreme thought of choosing death over becoming a loser.

Now that I have overcome severe depression and found some degree of happiness, there is a specific reason why I meditate on death. It is to continually remind myself of how precious life is, regardless of success or failure. When we recognize how finite life is, it becomes much easier to prioritize what truly matters. By acknowledging that death approaches gently, just like nightfall without exception, I can focus my heart on what is truly valuable to me.

The 19th-century existentialist philosopher Søren Kierkegaard described life as a journey on a train called anxiety, passing through a tunnel called despair, and arriving at the final station called death, which is the essence of existence. Perhaps I wanted to forget the anxiety and despair by hoping for an escape in death, which seemed to render everything meaningless.

I started learning tango with my husband two years ago. Having never properly learned to dance before, tango proved to be incredibly challenging for me. Watching people who seemed older and less capable than me dance skillfully wounded my self-esteem, and I even felt the urge to quit. It had been a long time since I felt foolish or inadequate at something. I realized that meant it had been a while since I had challenged myself with something new.

I thought about death in order to enjoy life. When I imagined the moment of death, it didn’t really matter if I was good at what I was doing. What mattered was enjoying one more new experience before the ending. The thought of dancing perfectly didn’t cross my mind at all. After all, if I’m going to die anyway, what’s the point of dancing perfectly?

Death reminds us of imperfection. When we realize that nothing in this world can become perfect because death exists, we become a little more flawed and, paradoxically, much happier. Breaking free from the illusion of perfection can only lead us to freedom.

I believed that I was a pathetic existence, even inferior to a bird beautifully singing in the backyard. I hadn’t accomplished anything since birth, hadn’t properly helped others, or fulfilled my purpose in life. I lacked motivation, had no desires, and was lazy. I wondered what I could do besides being a housewife… (In reality, being a housewife is also difficult and challenging, and I couldn’t do a good job). However, after a 30-minute meditation on death, I returned as an incredibly happy version of myself.

The moment we contemplate death, we no longer need to feel ashamed of the failures that have caused our lips to twitch. We will break free from all the failures. We no longer need to anxiously look out the window clutching the train ticket with no destination. The train no longer shakes. The tunnel is no longer dark. Because we know the final destination.