As is my tradition this time of year, I think about death. Specifically, what if I knew this would be my last year on Earth? What, if anything, would I want to do differently?
Pro tip: It helps to have a dog sit on top of you while thinking about death.
Before you think this is a morbid way to spend my time, there are many psychological benefits to mindfully thinking about death, including increased gratitude and closer relationships.
I’ve been practicing death meditations for almost a decade now, and the clarity they provide has inspired me to do things such as go on an epic road trip with Heath where we visited six national parks, quit my tenured position at a university, and spend seven weeks volunteering in a science center in Manitoba during polar bear tourism season
This year, however, I am thinking about death more than usual because a dear friend of mine died on December 23rd.
She was a top-tier friend. We spoke regularly about real stuff, not just the superficial niceties of acquaintanceship. We also shared dreams of being traditionally published authors. She was in my writing critique group and had such a keen eye for developmental and line edits. Her loss spills into multiple areas of my life and I don’t know if I will ever stop missing her.
What kills me (metaphorically of course) is knowing that even though she had many writing successes, she’ll never realize that particular dream of being a traditionally published author. And because I have this same dream, I can’t help but draw comparisons to my own life in that egocentric, selfish way that is being human.
I’m not happy that this was one of the responses to my friend’s death, but I accept that it showed up and is a part of me.
This thought was forefront of my mind on New Year’s Eve when I asked myself: if I could have any wish come true for myself in the New Year, what would it be? I immediately thought, a multi-book deal with a mid-sized publisher for five figures.
An emphatic and disdainful voice shouted at me in response: No! That’s not what you want. What you want is to be content.
I knew immediately that voice was right.
A multi-book deal with a large advance would have me screaming from the rooftops in celebration, but it wouldn’t give me the sense of peace I’m currently craving. Will I still spend part of my time writing and querying this year? Of course! I’m seeking contentment, not complacency and I still have goals and ambitions.
But those goals and ambitions cannot be a driving force in my life right now.
This last year has been a struggle with finding a job and a place to live and feeling secure. The unexpected worsening of my sleep health caused me so much additional stress that some days I didn’t know how I was going to make it to the next. But I did, and I kept going. And now that I am here in 2025, what I want more than anything is not to struggle. To work on strengthening who I am and the practices that give me small and big moments of joy. Because those choices are the ones that I can control, and those choices will be the ones that help me achieve what I really want.
Because if this is the year I die (which I really, really hope it is not), then I do not want to spend one second thinking, if only. I want to think of Heath, my family and friends, and all the many, many dogs I have loved along the way.
Happy New Year, my friends! May this be the year you find whatever it is you’re looking for.
I love how you try to balance contentment with goals and ambition.
Well, I guess I remember you doing this in past years, but this is the year for me that I reach the age my mom was when we lost her, so it takes on a whole new meaning. And she was the queen of exercise and eating low fat, which was what was considered healthy then.