My father gave me two gifts when he departed life a year ago: a fly-fishing rod and the lesson of impermanence. As I reflect on the first anniversary of his passing, I find myself grateful for those blessings in ways words can barely express.
Before my father’s passing, I’d only dabbled in fly fishing – more casting than catching. But in gifting me one of his beloved rods, my dad extended more than a hobby; he offered an invitation to immerse myself in something that brought him peace, presence, joy, and many life lessons in his later years.
Now, having spent hours with line in hand and feet in the stream, I understand more clearly what drew him to it: the stillness of nature, the humbling of tangled lines, the joy of release, and the chance to commune with something wild and fleeting. I’m hooked, so to speak.
But the deeper gift his passing offered was something more enduring than graphite and cork: it was a calling to embrace the reality of impermanence.
From Intellect to Embodiment
We all “know” that life is temporary. But knowing such a thing can leave it abstract, tucked away in the corner of our mind like a book on a shelf. The death of someone close, particularly a parent, can crack open that intellectual understanding and bring it into our being. My dad’s passing did that for me.
In coaching work, we often encounter the challenge of integrating knowledge into practice. It’s one thing to understand a concept like impermanence cognitively; it’s another to consciously apply it to how you move through the world. As I crossed the divide from knowledge to embodiment with this lesson, it began to reshape how I show up, what I give my attention to, and how I relate to time, myself, and others.
The Stoics had a term for this practice: Memento Mori, which translates to “remember you must die.” Far from being a morbid fixation, Memento Mori was a conscious daily reminder to live fully, virtuously, and with clarity of purpose. In the same way that a fly-fisher must be present to the movement of water, the line, and the drift of the fly, Memento Mori invites us to be deeply present to the movement of our lives.
What Embracing Impermanence Has Taught Me (So Far)
Here are a few principles I’ve come to live by – each drawn from a renewed relationship with my mortality, and grounded in my study of the philosophy and science of human performance. Each practice is deeply relevant to anyone who has internalized the idea that it is our purpose here to grow.
1. Live Consciously
Studies suggest that 90–95% of our decisions are made unconsciously. That statistic should alarm you if you are trying to live intentionally. And yet, it mirrors how many of us operate – on autopilot, swept up in reactivity, over-identification, rumination over past and future, or the endless pursuit of “what’s next.”
As Seneca wrote:
“It is not that we have a short time to live, but rather that we waste most of it.”
I’ve certainly suffered from the adverse consequences of living unconsciously. And in my coaching practice, I’ve seen how a lack of conscious attention can dull our ability to make decisions and take actions that align with our virtues. For me, embracing mortality has sharpened my focus, crystallized where I choose to direct my attention. It’s helped me reclaim my agency, deepen my presence, reinforce my meditation practice, and reconnect to what matters most.
Challenge yourself with these questions:
Where in your life are you operating on autopilot?
What might “waking up” look like in that area?
2. Gratitude for All of Life’s Experiences
The embrace of our mortality can bring perspective to how we approach all life’s experiences. Marcus Aurelius offered this potent reminder:
“You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think.”
This quote doesn’t come with an asterisk – it applies not just to joyful moments, but to struggle, friction, and failure. When we embrace impermanence, we begin to see even the hard things as invitations to grow, to practice our values, and to fully live.
In my own experience, this shift toward wholeness, gratitude for all of it, has been transformative. Rather than splitting life into good/bad or success/failure, I’ve learned to meet each experience as a teacher.
Challenge yourself with these questions:
What recent challenge could you reinterpret as a teacher or gift?
3. Live Courageously
Western culture teaches us to fear death and cling to comfort. But the Stoics offer a more empowering view: that we should embrace death as a natural aspect of life.
Seneca reminds us:
“I cannot escape death, but at least I can escape the fear of it.”
And Marcus Aurelius extends on Seneca’s ideas, by reinforcing that it is not death we should fear:
“It is not death that a man should fear, but rather he should fear never beginning to live.”
In coaching, one of the most common themes I hear is regret, not just for choices made, but for risks never taken. This aligns with what scientific studies of people receiving palliative care, specifically, that: these persons frequently regret not having lived a life true to themselves and not taking risks to pursue ambitious goals that were worthy of them. It is not death you should fear, but rather not living in harmony with your nature and not taking risks to pursue goals worthy of you.
When we embrace our mortality, we’re more likely to act from alignment than avoidance, to prioritize purpose over approval.
Personally, I’ve found freedom in caring less about perception and more about authenticity. This blog – on a topic I once would’ve deemed too taboo – is an example of that. I harbor no fear of stepping toward uncomfortable topics, nor am I afraid of speaking hard truths. Rather, I’m putting them on the table and embracing that some may judge me harshly for not conforming to social norms.
Questions to challenge yourself with:
If you truly accepted that time is limited, what courageous move would you make this month? What are you procrastinating doing out of fear of how others may judge you?
Impermanence as a Practice
The invitation here in this post isn’t to dwell on death, but to live with eyes wide open. To let impermanence become a practice, not as morbid meditation, but as a compass for how you direct your attention, set your goals, and honor your values.
Memento Mori is a call to presence. It’s a lens through which we can reflect on whether we are living in alignment with what we care about most. It helps us cut through distraction, procrastination, and fear, and invites us to move through the world with clarity and courage.
For me, this includes making space to connect with the natural world – through fly-fishing and other outdoor endeavors, yes, but also through consciousness, stillness, solitude, and awe. The time I’ve spent recently with my feet in a stream reminds me: everything is always changing (ie, is impermanent). And that’s the point. As the Greek philosopher Heraclitus is quoted as saying:
“No [person] ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he is not the same [person].”
Just like the river, we too are always changing. As we change, it is the direction in which we are moving that matters more than where we are. With that in mind, I’ll leave you with a final reflection from Marcus:
“Don’t behave as if you are destined to live forever. What’s fated hangs over you. As long as you live and while you can—become good now.”
Let that be our urgent invitation as we choose the direction in which we are moving:
To become good now.
To live consciously.
To act with gratitude.
And to move through life with courage.
