“True philosophers are always occupied in the practice of dying.”
Practice is the key to doing anything well. If I want to live well, I must practice living well. If I want to die well, I must practice dying well.
“Practice dying well”? What does that even mean?
There are at least two things about death that I know nothing about—when I will die and how I will die. But one thing I know for sure: I will die one day. I plan for so many contingencies that may or may not happen, so it would be strange not to have a plan for the one thing that will definitely happen. Since neither the timing nor the manner of my death is known in advance, I can at least ask, what kind of a last day would I like to have before the curtains come down?
I am sure we’ll all have different takes on this, but it seems reasonable to assume that we’ll want to have a calm and peaceful transition. We’ll want to go with joy in our hearts. We’ll want the last day of our lives to be perfect in every way—filled with love and gratitude and contentment, and without any regret or anger or nastiness or fight. None of this seems too much to ask—and all of this would contribute to “dying well.”
It seems foolhardy to leave it to chance to have such a perfect ending. It shouldn’t be a matter of chance. It’s really a matter of practice. In fact, we are already practicing for the last day of our lives every day. Our practice is mostly unconscious, though. If I only realized that my last day will not be dramatically different from any other day! I won’t obviously know it’s the last day until I die. I will not be staggeringly different that day from how I have been all my life. If I want to be my best self on the last day, I must practice being my best self every day of my life.
The practice of dying well means practicing for the perfect last day. It means practicing every day to being the perfect me. Since I have no idea which day is going to be my last, I must begin every day with the awareness that it could be my last day. And—this is important—I must live every day the way I would like to live on my last day. I should practice being calm, peaceful, cheerful. I should keep my heart filled with love, gratitude and contentment. I should be every day what I want to be on the last day. I should avoid anger and nastiness and the impulse to fight.
What spiritual seekers want is to remember God at the moment of death or to die while repeating God’s name or the mantra. Since death can come any day and any moment, the practice of remembering God all the time becomes vital. If I don’t practice this well enough until it becomes my second nature, there likely will be a million other things on my mind when I breathe my last. If I want to remember God then, I must remember God now, for I have no idea how far or how near “then” is from now.
I might fail in my attempts to be the perfect me every day of my life—but that’s precisely the purpose of practice, to overcome my imperfections. When I go to sleep every night, I shouldn’t promise myself another day. It’s better to sleep with a peaceful heart, surrendering myself fully to the Divine. If I wake up the next morning and find I’m still here (and not some place else), it means God has given me another day to practice and to be perfect.
What is required is a healthy attitude toward death. The practice also requires alertness and perseverance. Immediately after waking up in the morning, I must try to remember the spiritual ideal, recite a prayer or repeat the mantra, and get out of the bed with this thought, “This could be the last day of my life”—and then go through the day making it as perfect as possible.
Old habits will intrude, forgetfulness will set in, the imperfect me will assert itself. My alertness should take me back to the practice and my perseverance should keep me at it, undeterred by how often I fail in my attempts. Over time, my practice becomes easier and my days tend to come closer to the ideal last day of my dreams.
Beginning every day with the thought that it could be my last day might seem to be a depressing way to live. Actually it is just the opposite. Those who have practiced this way find that it increases their alertness and helps them do what is right and what is good. It prioritizes what is important and eliminates what is frivolous. It makes it easier for devotees to remember God. It infuses better understanding, greater respect and more love in relationships. It makes us feel lighter, which makes the world look a shade brighter. It’s amazing how quickly a day can be made meaningful simply by reminding ourselves of the one thing that is certain in life.
A swami once said to me that if I want to meditate well in the evening, the preparation must start in the morning. If I want to meditate well in the morning, the preparation for it must start the previous evening. To which I can now add: if I want a perfect last day before my death, the preparation must start now. Now!