Death comes to all. All things, all organizations, all people, all beliefs, all life. Death could be anywhere along the life-journey, marking the end of the path. 

In China, the Zhou dynasty ruled for nearly eight centuries, but Death came to the era in the guise of the Warring States period.

Rome, as an idea and empirical infrastructure, lasted for half a millennia… the republic just under that. 

Jonathan, the world’s oldest living animal (giant tortoise), is living on borrowed time as the life expectancy for other members of his species is around 150 years. At present, Jonathan is 183. 

The longest human life on record was 122 years, 164 days, and on average, we only make it to about seventy-eight, or so. 

No matter the length, style, uniqueness, or cultural influences of the life-song, the last few measures sound similar… 

… and they all end the same. Death. 

If life is a song, then just like playing music, if we’re worried about how the song is going to end, we won’t be able to be present in the moment, creating the best tune possible. Death is the same. We know it’s coming, AND we have to be present in the moment to have the best opportunities possible. 

(See y’all tomorrow) 

​Shirking one’s duty and commitments is akin to cowardice. 

No one gives respect to a coward. 

No one admires the person who puts too high a price on their own needs, comforts, and individual experience. 

The ironic thing about being craven is that the whole shameful act is done out of self-protection, but the cost of that protection is NOT a fair trade. 

Find Courage. Live with dignity. 

(See y’all tomorrow)

When it comes to our money and finances, we tend to overextend ourselves through credit because it’s so damned easy to use a card instead of pulling out a wallet, counting our dollars, and receiving change… over and over and over again… in person… out in public… 

IN MEAT-SPACE!

Credit card companies prey on our inherent human habit to deify convenience… and the more we “pray” at the altar of convenience, the more access the “temple priests” give us to the temple. In other words, the more we spend, the more access to credit they give us (more cards, higher limits, etc.). 

Well… do we treat our lives like we treat our money? 

With our money, we worry about ROI (return on investment) and rarely invest on something in which we’re either unsure of the return, or know the return to be less than the investment. With our lives; however, the length and quality of which we definitely do not know, we aren’t so judicious and conservative. We give out our time to all kinds of events and people with whom our ROI is either terribly low or there is no ROI at all. 

Seneca’s wise counsel is like putting our credit cards into an office shredder. 

At the end of things, what you want is a fair trade, and best integrity-value with your time… not a bunch of time-debt. 

You want to get your time’s worth out of life, without owing or being owed.  

(See y’all tomorrow)

Throughout our days, there are countless events that will interrupt our flow, and ultimately, steal our time. Think about them: nonsense soliciting calls, emails from people trying to sell something, not to mention the potential for larger, more unexpected events that will most assuredly take our time. 

I’m imagining hearing some of you now: calls happen, emails are a part of life, and there’s nothing we can do about the unexpected. 

Yes, dear reader. All of those are true… 

… however, our time is something we must protect, and use as if it were a limited, precious resource. Why? 

Because it's exactly that. 

We can’t replace it, make more of it, or run down to the store to purchase another several years. 

The only things we can do are not squander what little we have, and make the absolute most our of every bit. 

(See y’all tomorrow)

​Many humans fear death. Even though we “know” that everyone will pass, our irrational fears surrounding death arise because our egos believe it’ll be depressing, or painful, or something that ego does not want to face. While some fear death, there is a small number of people who find thinking of their own death as invigorating. Why?

Because of the perspective and clarity we receive from the practice.

If you had a week to live, what would you change? What about if you died, then were resuscitated… what would be different? How would you live differently? 

Denying death unplugs us from the business of living life. 

Embracing our own death, as well as the deaths of those we know and love keeps our minds focusing on what really matters. 

May we all have the fortitude needed to play the cards we’ve been dealt… every day. 

(See y’all tomorrow) 

The “sword of Damocles”, an ancient moral parable popularized by Roman philosopher Cicero in around 45 BCE. His version of the tale centers on Dionysius II, a king who once ruled over the Sicilian city of Syracuse. Though rich and powerful, Dionysius was supremely unhappy due to the constant perils of kingship, as well as ever-present fears of assassination… so much so that he slept in a bedchamber surrounded by a moat, and only trusted his daughters to shave his beard.

According to Cicero, the king’s ire was made manifest after a courtier named Damocles showered him with empty compliments and stupidly remarked how blissful a king’s life must be. To prove the ignorance of Damocles, the king arranged to switch places with the courtier so he could experience what it was like to be a king, but suspended over the servant-surrounded golden couch, above the tables laden with riches and perfumes and ointments, hung a razor-sharp sword, suspended only by a single strand of horse hair. 

Once Damocles became aware of the sword hanging over his head, he suddenly lost the taste for riches and opulence, and asked to be excused from the couch, saying to the king that he no longer wished to be so fortunate. 

The “sword of Damocles” is a constant reminder of danger, difficulty, and imminent death, and just because we weren’t some smart-ass courtier with a king to teach us lessons, we nonetheless have our own swords dangling over each of us. We don’t know when the sword of death is going to fall, but we can rest assured that it will. 

When it falls, let it catch us doing good in the world now, not talking about the good we might be able to do in the future. 

(See y’all tomorrow) 

It’s pretty sobering to think about things like civil and social unrest, climate refugees, humanitarian atrocities, or financial collapse. It’s even more sobering to think about those things coming to pass in the here-and-now, in our lifetime, in our country. 

It’s pretty sobering to imagine oneself penniless, destitute, and rendered socially “insignificant”; a modern untouchable, if you will. 

Taking the time to engage in premeditatio malorum (contemplating the possible ills and horrors of life), according to Epictetus, frees us from ego’s grasp, resulting in “never hav(ing) a base thought” or “excessive desire”. Hmmm… I’m pretty sure that doesn’t work for 100 percent of everyone, dear Epictetus. Addicts think of all kinds of shitty things crashing into their lives, breaking them apart piece by piece… and it FUELS our desire to fulfill those addictions. Once we can break away from those addictions, we can re-relationship ourselves with the benefits of sobering thought. 

I get it, really. What I believe Epictetus is saying is that through remembering that we’re not nor ever have been any of the things that are beyond our control. By over or under-identifying with them, we potentially face egoic ruin… 

… and yet, a more nuanced understanding is needed. 

Perhaps discussions will arise around dinner tables tonight. Maybe people will grab their smartphones and look into these things. In any case, I’d love to hear what arises for you all. 

Gods be good, I’ll be here to read them. 

(See y’all tomorrow)

​Our homes, and all the belongings, therein… 

Our clothes, books, electronics… 

Our status and station, our connections and relationships, as well as our physical health… 

… are all in the category of “things we don’t own.”

In fact, the only “thing” we really own is the spark of life that informs consciousness. 

Truth be told, even that spark has an expiration date. 

Memento Mori, Amor Fati, Summum Bonum. 

(See y’all tomorrow)

​I spend a LOT of time with people who believe themselves to be very intelligent, very clever, and very discerning when it comes to the deep truths of their religious experience… and yet, the slightest of life’s hiccups nearly always sets many of these folx on edge, triggering some, while others are sent completely off the rails. 

So, in the spirit of today’s artisanal topic, I’d like to offer this: 

If your religion-ing (or philosophizing for that matter) isn’t causing you to wrestle with existential thoughts and concepts on a daily basis, eventually growing more skilled and resilient that you may face these challenges in more and more successful ways thereby making art of your life, then you might want to consider changing how you’re practicing. 

It’s not the tools, it’s the worker. It’s not the style, it’s the practitioner. 

User error. Hard stop. 

Religion (or philosophy) is deadly serious. Life and death kinds of serious. 

Our practice of it should be, too. 

(See y’all tomorrow)