I recently started a new job. Life has been busy. There has been a lot going on, and if I’m honest, I’ve loved every minute of it. The work is meaningful. The challenge is exciting. I’m learning new things every day and waking up with a sense of purpose.

Forgetting we all will die

In many ways, life has been going exactly as I hoped it would. So well, in fact, that I forgot one of the most important Stoic practices. I forgot that I was going to die.

Of course, I didn’t literally forget. If someone had asked me whether I believed I was mortal, I would have answered, “Yes, of course.” But there’s a difference between intellectually knowing you’re going to die and regularly remembering it.

For nearly six weeks, I hadn’t reflected on my mortality once. When I realized this, it surprised me. I’ve practiced Stoicism for years. Memento mori —remember that you will die—is one of its central teachings. Yet all it took was a new season of life, one filled with excitement and opportunity, for that practice to quietly disappear.

That realization led me to an interesting question. If life is going well—if you’re genuinely happy, fulfilled, and excited about what you’re doing—why should you think about death at all? It seems almost counterproductive. Wouldn’t reflecting on your mortality dampen your enjoyment?

The pleasant seasons of life

The Stoics would say exactly the opposite. There are seasons when life simply clicks. We enjoy our work. Our relationships feel healthy. We’re exercising consistently, eating well, waking up early, going to bed on time, and moving through our days with energy and purpose.

These are wonderful seasons, and we should appreciate them. But the Stoics would also warn us that these are precisely the moments when we are most vulnerable to drifting.

Not because life is bad. Because life is comfortable.

Comfort can lull us into autopilot

Comfort has a subtle way of lulling us into autopilot. We begin assuming that tomorrow is guaranteed. We stop asking whether we’re spending our time according to our deepest values because everything feels… fine.

But enjoying life is not the same as living intentionally. A Stoic doesn’t simply ask, “Am I happy?” They ask, “Am I living according to what truly matters?”

Without the regular reminder of our mortality, it’s surprisingly easy to become consumed by whatever happens to be in front of us. Weeks become months. Months become years. We stay busy, yet gradually drift away from the person we hoped to become.

That’s why memento mori matters. Meditating on death doesn’t make life darker. It makes it clearer.

Finitude of life reminds us of our priorities

When you remember that your time is finite, your priorities naturally come into focus. You might realize that while you’ve been enjoying yourself, you’ve also been spending two hours every evening scrolling social media. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this—recreation has its place.

But remembering that your life is limited might lead you to put down the remote a little earlier, take a walk outside, call a friend, or have a meaningful conversation with the person sitting beside you.

The activity hasn’t changed. Your perspective has. The same is true with work. In my case, I genuinely love what I’m doing.

Starting this new role has been invigorating. But work—even meaningful work—has a way of expanding to fill every available corner of your life if you let it.

Without reflecting on mortality, it’s easy to justify giving it just one more hour. Then another. Then another. Before long, you’re neglecting your health, your relationships, your hobbies, or simply the quiet moments that make a life worth living.

Meditating on death doesn’t tell us that work isn’t important. It reminds us that work must remain in its proper place. Mortality is not meant to fill us with anxiety. It’s meant to rescue us from distraction. It reminds us that every “yes” we give is also a “no” to something else. Since our time is limited, our choices matter.

Looking back, I’m still amazed that I let this practice slip away so easily. It wasn’t because life was falling apart—it was because life was going well. Fortunately, I caught it before I drifted too far. I returned to my daily practice of reflecting on mortality, and almost immediately I noticed the difference. My priorities became clearer. My time felt more precious. My conversations became more intentional. Nothing external had changed, but my perspective had.

That’s the gift of memento mori. So if you’re in one of those beautiful seasons where life feels exciting, productive, and full of momentum, don’t assume you no longer need to contemplate your mortality.

You probably need it more than ever. Because remembering that you’ll die isn’t about becoming obsessed with death.

It’s about making sure you’re fully awake to life.

Brandon is most well-known for his podcast, The Strong Stoic Podcast, where he discusses philosophical ideas both solo and with guests. He also coaches individuals to help them be their best selves, writes articles, plays music, manages projects, and several other things.

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