I fear death and live life with urgency.

I recently wrote about why we should fear death only if we have not pursued our work in life. I've been reading and reflecting on Marcus Aurelius's Meditations, pondering the themes of duty, impermanence, urgency, oneness ("Wholeness" as Hammond translates it), and the cultivation of virtues.

Aurelius explicitly tells us not to fear death. Whether it comes prematurely or at the end of life, he states that it makes no difference. He might even argue that it doesn’t matter whether we've completed our life's work, or whether others got in our way. He might admonish us against getting in our own way, but I imagine he’d do so with the understanding that we fail to meet our highest selves out of ignorance, not intent.

So why should I fear death? My end is not in my control. It is an inevitability. It is coming for me—maybe today, tomorrow, or decades from now, perhaps centuries (if Bezos and Musk can hurry up and solve mortality, delivering it in a conveniently shipped Amazon Prime package that we can install into our Neuralinks). Regardless, death is the final punctuation mark; we will all end.

I fear it because I do not feel that I have done my work in life. If the hand of Death taps my shoulder and beckons, I’ll argue. I’ll negotiate. I’ll ask for more time to complete my work. I am a solid negotiator, after all. But if He is set, unamenable to my charms, I will go—perhaps with the consolation that each day I put effort toward my goals and values and am doing my best.

I cannot fully control the completion of my goals and the fruition of my aspirations. I can only plant and cultivate each day. I can act every day as though I will live long enough to bring my works to completion, finding peace in the fact that I am doing my best. What else can we do?

This is a sort of surrender, a relinquishing of control. I'll admit, it’s uncomfortable for me. I grew up in a very controlling environment, where I often felt limited agency in what I could do. The idea of things being out of my control stirs up emotions: discomfort, frustration. Perhaps you can relate.

Acceptance of the forces outside of our control—the inevitability of death, the fact that our works may not bear fruit, the uncertainty of our expiration date—helps us scope our lives. It’s part of what makes each day precious. At its worst, it can paralyze us with anxiety, but when leveraged appropriately, it can be a powerful urgency. It does not need to burn in us like fear. We can use this fire to move us into action, into our calling.

The completion of our work in life is distinct from receiving praise for doing our work. It is easy to desire a sense of importance. It is a human need. And yet, it is dangerous to satisfy this need through external praise. Doing so leaves our sense of worth and importance outside our control. It also relegates it to the realms of dopamine—a hit from a like here, a hit from a compliment there. But ultimately, we will be forgotten.

As I continue reading Meditations, I see a few persistent themes. Criticism of fame and the recognition of impermanence are relevant here. Aurelius speaks to the ever-changing sands of life:

"...just as drifting sands constantly overlay the previous sand, so in our lives what we once did is very quickly covered over by subsequent layers." [Meditations Book 7, Paragrpah 34]

Our works will soon be buried by the winds of change and we will be forgotten. Percy Shelley’s Ozymandias comes to mind. No matter how mighty our works, no matter how fiercely we call out and claim our power, it is ultimately washed away. It is impermanent.

Our work in life is ill-spent in the pursuit of fame. It is instead a part of becoming one with the greater Whole. It is playing our part as a limb, an eye, a mitochondrion, any part of the larger Body that comprises the Oneness of the world. The satisfaction lies in the execution of our duty. Perhaps the Eastern equivalent of this notion is Dharma, the fulfilling of our sacred duty.

Each day, the desire to do my work, my purpose in life, is what gets me up. Funny enough, I don’t always know what that work is. I have a sense; I use my intuition. I have some knowing that it lies in writing, in music, in community, in service, in persistent and relentless growth. But it is also unprescribed, adaptive.

Death is inevitable, but rather than fearing it, we can let it inspire us to live fully and intentionally. Each day is an opportunity to move closer to our life’s purpose, to cultivate our virtues, and to contribute to the Whole. By accepting what we cannot control and focusing on what we can, we find peace in the present and meaning in our journey.

So ask yourself today: hat is your work in life? How can you leverage death to positively motivate you? What will you do each day to look back at your life without regrets?

Start there, and the rest will follow.