A Guided Meditation on … Death (You’ll Love It!)

This morning as I awoke reflecting on the new year we’re stepping into (and my big plans for it), I thought of Death.

Which isn’t unusual, for I think of Death often these days.

Stephen Jenkinson, author of “Die Wise,” observed that we live in a “death phobic and grief illiterate” world.

Our dominant culture teaches us to look away from death, avoid it at all costs, or at least as long as possible; and if you must do it, do it elsewhere, away from the schools and shopping malls (lest the people stop focusing on production and consumption and turn instead to the more urgent mystery work of soul .. which would just be bad for the economy).

Yet our ”avoid at all costs“ approach to death and grief only ends up costing us the most important thing: actually being present in our lives.

Jenkinson, a long-time steward to the dying, insists that for many people “…dying becomes the first time, perhaps, that you appear deeply and profoundly present to your neighbors, your friends, your family – as well as to yourself.”

Poet Wallace Stevens said, “Death is the mother of beauty.”

Without the awareness that something you love will inevitably have its end, it becomes quickly normal, just part of the everyday background scenery … easy to ignore.

I can’t tell you how many times I have worked with a man who’d grown complacent in his relationship, or simply felt overwhelmed and trapped by it, thinking his partner would always be there to either support or irritate him, or both.

Typically that man gets feedback from his partner that says (in a million ways), “You’re not really here. I don’t feel your full presence.”

I used to be that man, too.

When I first started studying relationships I worked with author-teacher, David Deida. At one of his intimate workshops I saw him whisper something into the ear of a man standing before the woman he loved, a woman deeply angry and hurt by the various ways in which she felt him not showing up in their life together. What Deida whispered clearly changed this man, at least for that moment, for his eyes moistened and his face softened, and he suddenly began to stand up straighter and started looking at his woman … no, actually, he started to actually see her … with more depth, compassion, gratitude, and more unconstricted love pouring out through him than perhaps he’d ever been able to show her before. It was an unforgettable moment.

What Deida said to that man was simply:

“There will come a day, likely sooner than you’re ready for, when you will never see this woman again for all of eternity.”

This man’s willingness to confront that inevitable truth, the impending end of relationship with his beloved, changed everything for him. At least for that moment. It’s possible within a few days he’d buried death underground again, went back to taking for granted that she’d just “always be there,” and his presence waned yet again.

So, in the spirit of ensuring we don’t lose sight of the beauty in our lives; in the spirit of New Year’s reflections and renewal, as the sun’s light begins its slow return to lengthen our days (for those of us in the Northern hemisphere), and before we’re too far into January and yet again subsumed into the busy-ness modern life demands of us, I invite you to experience 11 minutes of my guided meditation on death.

I promise it isn’t morbid or heavy. Rather I think it will prove clarifying, invigorating, even enlivening.

In this guided meditation, I’ll invite you to reflect on your life in expansive ways that can help bring you more present to the real work you’re on this planet for: the mystery work of your soul.

Because indeed, you never know what comes first: tomorrow or your death.

May you live wisely, so you may die wisely.

👉 GET THE MEDITATION (FREE) HERE.
*you can save and do it later.

p.s. Men, if you want to join an epic group of men preparing to make 2026 an extraordinary year of radical growth and brotherhood, I strongly encourage you to apply for Elevate 2026 asap. We begin soon. I have only a few spots left.