Embrace Life, Embrace Death ⌛
💀 The Wisdom of Montaigne and the Art of Memento Mori.
Author’s note: This essay was also published on
who are a wonderful group of writers, artists, idlers and flaneurs who all share the value of creating and sharing meaningful art. There’s too much crap churned-out content on the internet, especially now with AI copywriting. Make sure you check
“It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live. Death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily. If a man has not discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live.”
Montaigne
I think Montaigne is talking a lot of sense. When we’re dead, Were’ dead, brown bread, no more. But to live your life afraid and not living up to your potential, that’s a fate worse than death.
Don’t worry, this isn’t a morbid post. It’s an uplifting one. I’d like to talk a little bit about a philosophy that is dear to my heart (I don’t really like calling it a philosophy as it’s not really, it’s just plain fact).
I discovered the Latin phrase about 8 years ago: Memento Mori meaning “Remember you must die” and was intrigued. I read books by Marcus Aurelius and Montaigne, read Japanese death poems and even bought a coin with a skull on it as a reminder of our collective, inevitable demises.
We all know that we’re going to die at some level, but it’s so far hidden away from our awareness, that we act as if we will live forever. We, of course, don’t want to go the other way and constantly worry about dying every day. But having respect for the fact, I find, is useful to dust away the cobwebs of the domesticated life.
The painting above was borne from an idea I had about Memento Mori. You can see a newspaper in the background, this was pasted onto the board before as a first layer, then paint applied on top. It’s a real The Times Newspaper from England back in 1871. The thinking behind it was that everyone who read that newspaper was now dead. They were living their day-to-day lives, in their routines, reading the newspaper like some of us still do now, and now they’re all dead.
It makes you think, doesn’t it?
Now the world is much, much bigger and in 153 years no one will still be around. Anyone who reads this will be gone (cue the immortality / neuralink / longevity crew…). It’s not a sad thought, it’s just life. Nothing lasts, even buildings that stood proud, that seemed like permanent fixtures will be demolished at some point in time.
Montaigne also said:
“One should always have one's boots on and be ready to leave.”
This one hit me, it’s a great reminder to check in with yourself every day, not as a forced activity but to realise that you must try your best to cherish what you have. It’s an understanding not something you do.
Kiss your child good night and tell them you love them before bed.
End arguments with your significant other before you go to sleep at night.
Check yourself when using social media, are you just doom scrolling?
Go for a walk in the fresh air for God’s sake! Feel the life force within you!
These are just a few things off the top of my head. You’re not stupid, you know these things.
My brother died of liver failure a few months ago. Like most of us, he lived in the hope that he’d live happily to a ripe old age. But we all do many things that could jeopardise that. Like Gary, my dear brother, drank alcohol to block out the pain of seeing his friends brutally murdered right before his eyes in Iraq.
Can you blame him? We’d all want to block that out too. We block the moderate stresses out of our lives with that half bottle of Malbec of an evening, yet we judge those who are labelled alcoholic.
When Gary was 16 he was full of beans, ready to go and play soldiers in real life. Totally oblivious to the fact that he would die at 52 with liver failure caused by the obscene amount of alcohol he consumed to block out the trauma of war.
Tragic isn’t it?
Gary was my hero as a kid growing up. He was 11 years older so I looked up to him, he could do anything in my eyes!
My mum’s best friend died this week, granted, she was 87, but she was still walking about on her own. I admired her diet of Harvey’s Bristol Cream and Complan, I’m sure this is the secret to longevity. Maybe she was ready to go, she was distraught when my mum died in 2018 and her partner died last year. So despite having 9 kids, I’d imagine she was quite lonely.
RIP Marg.
As you can see in the photo, my mum was reliant on oxygen 24/7 to live. I bet she didn’t imagine she’d die like this when she was 30.
RIP Mum.
A year ago, my aunt Sue was taking the bins out just like any other week and died of a massive heart attack on the spot. I bet she didn’t think she’d die this way when she was 21.
RIP Sue.
The donor of my first kidney got knocked over by a car just after Christmas on the 28th of December 2010. They were 21 years old. I bet they thought they’d live to a ripe old age. It makes me cry. I’m so grateful to them for helping me live. I always wanted to thank their parents but I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t even know how to begin to write the letter.
RIP. You saved my life.
Don’t fucking wait until tomorrow to start living.
My Dad died of a fever (It was probably Covid) living in a care home, he could do nothing for himself but walk due to dementia. I bet when he was 17, drinking cider and chatting up girls, he never knew that he wouldn’t be able to feed himself, he’d piss and shit himself and have to wear a nappy. Then die alone in a bed, not knowing what the fuck was going on. We couldn’t visit due to lockdowns.
RIP Dad.
Don’t wait until fucking tomorrow to start taking care of yourself!
The last time I saw my dad, I’m glad I went as I was being an idiot and saying “Oh I don’t feel like going”, I sat down with him and fed him his dinner. The poor man couldn’t feed himself. One minute he was happily being spoon-fed, the next he was spitting out the food and getting angry. It was deeply upsetting but I put on a brave face and helped my Dad, the man who adopted me, who worked long hours in his taxi business to provide for me and my brothers, who had a laugh with me. I’m so grateful for his silly sense of humour.
The next minute he looks up at me with his beautiful clear blue eyes, in a moment of extreme clarity, he says “Oh, it’s you!” the relief, the joy, the love in his voice in those two seconds, I will cherish forever. No matter how bittersweet it was. He recognised me for that tiny moment, it was wonderful for the both of us.
So again…
“One should always have one's boots on and be ready to leave.”
I’ll leave you with a bit of ironic humour.
Montaigne passed away from quinsy, a throat infection when he was 59. This illness resulted in the paralysis of his tongue. He once said, "Conversation is the most fruitful and natural exercise of the mind."
You have to laugh.
Love to you all.
SLART.
P.S. I’ve created a series of paintings around the Memento Mori Theme. Please feel free to take a look at the collection here. Feel free to share the pdf.
Beautiful and touching post, thank you for sharing.
Two thoughts came up in my head while I was reading it:
1. Thoughts of quantum immortality, how it would be the best of both worlds, dying every second but also living forever, but also the worse hell I could imagine.
2. Teachings from Buddhism that say to treat every out breath as death, the person you are when you breath in is not the same person breathing out. I've heard it said that the in breath is birth, the out breath is death and what you do in-between is life. Remember to pay attention to life.
Thank you SLART for this beautiful post. The tributes to your loved ones are a touching reminder (as is your loving-in-your-face-reminder to us, the reader) to live fully and be as present as we can be. I appreciate your explanation of the newspaper background in your painting, well done!