One Year Closer to Death

...that is, if an accident or life-threatening illness doesn't take me first.

Birthday's were once a frightening experience

I dreaded the attention

the loud social gatherings centred around how much alcohol one can consume

even the receiving of gifts were secretly overwhelming.

What a bizarre way of celebrating life

you drink so much that you leave your body

you become unconscious to what's happening around you

then you might do something regretful

only to wake up the next day carrying the weight of shame and embarrassment;

or, in other cases

you might get a pat on the back as your friends praise you for your triumphant drunken antics like a jester in the King's court -

entertaining

but never. truly. seen.

It was normal. No one questioned it.

And as children

we watched our elders do the same.

It was as if "Birthday Time" was a special moment to remember forget

to numb ourselves out from our hidden conflict

from our surroundings

from the people

from life itself.

Thankfully, I reached a place where I could see what I didn't want.

The annual birthday celebration became a pause

not only as a reflection for the years passed

but an unshakeable reminder of the years left.

Acknowledging death gifts me more energy to pursue life

and that doesn't necessarily mean doing more.

My brother once said to me "Why do you always act like you're going to die?"

At the time

my only response was an empty laugh

you know

the reactive kind

drenched in uncertainty.

He was right

in hindsight

I was racing against an invisible clock

I had an urgent hunger to be able

in a world that felt so unstable

so I ploughed through collecting experiences

each trade-off leading to a silent “I did it” moment

each one quietly granting strength.

In all honesty

my greatest fear isn't death itself

but a visit

from the voice of regret

whereby on my final few breaths

all I can hear

is a Colosseum of what can never be undone:

"I wish I never worked so much."

"I wish I were less self absorbed and more present with my children."

"I wish I had got the help when it was offered."

"I wish I had left behind something meaningful."

"I wish I had forgiven more easily."

"I wish I had spent less time worrying."

"I wish I just slowed down."

Death is often overlooked in our society

we are told that it's morbid

uncomfortable

even inappropriate to discuss - leaving a powerful tool largely ignored, avoided, and, in many ways, treated as a taboo subject.

Though this isn't by accident

it’s a byproduct of a culture that is obsessed with productivity, youth, and endless distractions, all of which keep us from engaging with the reality of our mortality - until it hits in ways unimaginable.

From a young age, we are taught to fear death.

It's associated with tragedy, suffering, and finality rather than the inevitable transition that it is.

The media reinforces this fear; portraying death as something horrifying rather than a natural part of life’s cycle.

This means that we don't discuss it unless a life threatening illness strikes or a loved one passes

nor do we sit still long enough to recognise its deeper truths.

I’ve come to understand that contemplating death isn’t something to fear, but rather a liberation for the heart.

And though I feel very much attached to this life and the people who surround me

death remains the ultimate clarifier for what's truly important.

Maybe there is significance about blowing out candles on our Birthday that leave us in the dark.

Love and blessings beautiful souls 🕯️

Why do you always act like you’re going to die?
Because I am.
And so are you.
The only question is: what will we do with the time left?