If you haven’t read part 1, I’d recommend doing so before you read this second part.
In the first part of this article series, I discussed why it’s so hard to do the things we care about most, and why our fear of death is the ultimate reason behind it.
My conclusion was that to start living our unlived lives, there’s no way around facing our mortality and our fear of death. In this part, I’ll talk about how to do that in more practical terms.
So let’s pick up where we stopped last time:
If you want to live an authentic, meaningful life you won’t regret, there’s no way around facing your fear of death, and embracing your mortality.
The key point is that this needs to happen not just on an intellectual level.
As I explained in part 1, we already know we’ll die, but that knowledge doesn’t change the fact that we behave as if we were immortal.
You have to feel in your body that you’re going to die. It has to be a very visceral experience.
The question is: How can you create that visceral experience?
Meditation might get you there, but it will probably take a long time.
A near-death experience probably will, but you can’t manufacture one on demand. (I mean, technically you could, but I wouldn’t recommend that to anyone).
The passing away of a loved one might get you there, but the problem is the same as with a near-death experience. Also, it’s not a safe bet because it’s not you facing your mortality.
But there’s one thing that will 100% get you there:
What is an adventure?
It’s a project or goal that:
you care so deeply about you’re willing to leave your comfort zone for it.
involves uncertainty, meaning that success isn’t guaranteed.
pushes you to the limits of your current knowledge, skills, and mental development. It forces you to grow beyond your current self.
For example, one of the biggest adventures I ever went on was learning to get over my shyness and fear of women in my twenties.
That qualified as an adventure because:
I cared deeply about overcoming my shyness and fear. Because otherwise I would remain lonely and depressed for the rest of my life.
It involved uncertainty because I obviously had to talk to a lot of women, and getting rejected was a big risk (at least for that version of me I was back then). Also, there were all kinds of things that might happen and that I was afraid of (such as being ridiculed, getting slapped or having a drink thrown at me). Every time I was about to talk to a woman, those fears came up.
It pushed me to my limits because I was SO not used to approaching women (or anyone for that matter) and was severely lacking in social skills.
The more challenging the adventure, the better.
A well-designed adventure will be a visceral experience because it involves your entire being, not just your intellect.
My adventure ticked those boxes:
There were a lot of sweat and tears involved (though no blood) as I was approaching hundreds of women. So my body was involved.
I felt a ton of fear, doubt, and insecurity. So my emotions were involved as well.
It had a purpose that transcended my present reality – it was a battle for future me and for my future potential.
Okay, but how does going on an adventure bring me face-to-face with my mortality?
Adventure is all about transformation.
In every good story, the hero is transformed:
Frodo Baggins transforms from a simple, content, and naïve hobbit into a warrior and savior of Middle Earth.
Harry Potter transforms from orphaned, lonely boy who is unaware of his powers into a hero who is willing to lay down his life for his friends and the greater good.
Neo (from the Matrix-movies) transforms from a quiet, introverted, insecure computer programmer into a self-assured hero capable of altering the matrix.
And here’s the thing: Every transformation involves death – the death of the hero’s old self.
Like a caterpillar transforms into a butterfly.
That transformation, that death of the old identity, is necessary to succeed in an adventure.
And it brings you face to face with your mortality.
To succeed in my adventure, I had to let my old, shy, and fearful self die.
Don’t believe it was easy just because I disliked being shy and fearful around women. It’s a bit like being in an abusive relationship: part of you wants to leave, but the seductive power of the world you know on the one hand, and your fear of the unknown on the other hand, are a powerful combo that will prevent most people from leaving their comfort zone, and their old identity.
Most of us, including myself, are very attached to our identity – to the things we think make us – us. For better or for worse. We have to let that old identity die if we want to live a life that’s better for us, and to actualize our unlived lives.
Adventure is how you do that.
Adventure is the only way I know of through which you can die without actually dying.
You die symbolically.
Your identity dies, but your essence remains.
What your adventure should be is up to you.
As I explained in my first article on this Substack an effective adventure should be about something that excites you and terrifies you at the same time – in other words, something you deeply care about.
The pulling power of the thing you’re going after in your adventure needs to be stronger than the seductive power of the comfort zone and the terror of leaving that comfort zone.
I don’t have the space in this short article to explain the whole process, and if you’d like more help with this, I’m here for you.
But here are a few questions to get you off on the right foot:
What’s the bigger story you feel you’re meant to live, but haven’t fully stepped into?
What’s something you cannot NOT do?
If you died tomorrow, what would you regret not having done?
You’ll know you’re on the right track when you’re both excited and terrified.
Then, you go and complete your adventure.
Let adventure transform you. Willingly sacrifice your old identity for something bigger, something more important – something you deeply care about.
You may find that dying symbolically is an exhilarating experience. Not necessarily in the moment, when you’re in the midst of those struggles and battles that come with every adventure.
But after each battle in which you’ve come out on top, and in which you started growing beyond your old identity, you’ll feel more alive than you thought possible.
Because in a way, you’ve just been reborn.
That’s how you’re “dying to be alive.”
It’s impossible to go after something that’s bigger than you and that you care deeply about and feel depressed.
And here’s another cool thing:
By going on an adventure, you also start creating your own overarching story in which you can become symbolically immortal – a legacy through which you will live on.
Most importantly, it’s not a legacy culture, society, or anything else tells you to care about.
No, it will be a legacy which is authentic to you and what you stood for and cared about.
One you won’t regret on your deathbed.
It’s how you break out of the short-circuit I showed in part 1.
It’s tough.
It’s not for everyone.
But you will live a life you won’t regret.
And you don’t have to go at it alone. Every hero needs allies. And I’d love to be your ally on your next adventure.
If that sounds like the right thing for you – book a free discovery session here.
Other ways I can help you: If you have an unlived life and would like my help turning it into a lived life, I’d be more than happy to help you. If you’re interested, I invite you to book a free 30-minute discovery call.
In my experience adventure is a way to transform because the fullness of experience overtaxed my mind, my intellect - the cause of all anxiety. The source of all ideas like a me that can die at all, the idea that I may be a seperated being, the whole idea of dying.
Anxiety is a direct result of the mind believing untrue ideas. I can not be afraid of true ideas - actually all truth results in joy (possibly requires a bit of unlearning).
The most “existential” anxiety results from the untrue idea of my ego that itself has an existential reality in the first place. It is just a brilliant hallucination of zero substance.
The emotional intelligence of my body tries to expose the untrue by creating anxiety. the ingenuous twist of the ego is to override that by interpreting anxiety as confirmation of it’s own untrue ideas and trying to divert from feeling the anxiety thoroughly, because that would make me experience the truth through my body:
- The idea of physical death of me is untrue. I am part of great existence that simply goes on.
- The untrue idea of an (ego) identity that can die. It doesn’t even exist.
- The untrue idea an ego is even necessary. Most beings don’t have any.
- There is no necessity to “survive” as any of the untrue ideas assume
So an option of adventure to transform is feeling through any anxiety to erase the untrue beliefs that cause the anxiety. Anxiety of death is a good one ;)
Without untrue beliefs you will just go ahead and live your life. No mind required.
Beautiful article!
Have you read "The Conquest of Happiness" by Bertrand Russell? Hits a lot of the same themes here.