Memento Bro
Mortality & Meaning
Chad wakes up at 32 and realizes he's been sleepwalking.
Same job for seven years. Not good. Not bad. Comatose. He's been saying he'll look for something better "eventually."
Travel, guitar, fitness, that book idea—all on the "someday" list.
One night, Chad does the math: 50 years left if he's lucky. That's 2,600 weekends. He's already burned through 1,664.
One-third done. Can't name ten things he's proud of.
You're going to die.
Not philosophically. Not eventually. You. Specifically. Will stop existing.
Could be 50 years. Could be tomorrow.
The Stoics didn't talk about death to be depressing. They talked about it to create urgency. To wake you up.
"You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think."
He wasn't depressed. He understood: Death awareness is life fuel.
When you genuinely remember you're going to die, everything shifts:
- The argument with your friend? Suddenly stupid.
- The grudge you've been holding? Pointless.
- The fear of looking foolish? Irrelevant.
- The job you hate? Intolerable.
- The dream you've been delaying? Urgent.
Death isn't your enemy. Wasting your life is.
The Death-Denial Machine
Our culture is allergic to mortality. The average human lifespan: about 4,000 weeks.
- If you're 25? 3,000 weeks left.
- If you're 30? 2,600 weeks.
- If you're 40? 2,000 weeks.
That's all you get.
The Stoics practiced memento mori—remember you will die—not as depression fuel. As clarity fuel.
Death as Your Personal Trainer
If this were your last day, would you:
- Argue on Twitter?
- Skip the gym again?
- Avoid that hard conversation?
- Stay in the job you hate?
- Waste it on resentment?
No. You'd focus on what matters.
That's the practice: Live like you have limited time. Because you do.
- "Fuck it, Vegas, blow my savings."
- "Nothing matters, party."
- "No planning needed."
- "Life is short. I'm building something meaningful."
- "Everything matters because time is limited."
- "Today matters more."
One's escapism. The other's engagement.
Questions Death Asks You
Is what you're doing worth dying for?
If you spent your entire life doing this one thing, would it be meaningful?
What are you putting off that you shouldn't be?
The conversation. The trip. The project. The apology. Death doesn't care about your timeline.
What would you regret if you died today?
That regret? Your priority list.
"Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one."
The Regrets You'll Never Have
Top five regrets of the dying (Bronnie Ware):
- "I wish I'd lived true to myself, not what others expected."
- "I wish I hadn't worked so hard."
- "I wish I'd expressed my feelings."
- "I wish I'd stayed in touch with friends."
- "I wish I'd let myself be happier."
Notice what's NOT on the list: Scrolling more. Winning more arguments. Holding more grudges.
Death clarifies what matters. Use it as a filter for decision-making.
The Eulogy Exercise
Write your own eulogy. 200 words about the person you want to be remembered as.
Not who you are now. Who you want to become.
Then reverse-engineer your daily habits to match that person.
Chad's Reality Check
Current eulogy: "Chad was fine. Had a job. Spent time on his phone. Meant well but didn't follow through."
Desired eulogy: "Chad took risks. Built something that helped people. Was a loyal friend. Lived intentionally."
The gap between those two versions? That's his to-do list.
The Setup
The Morning Death Check (30 seconds)
Before your phone, say out loud:
"I'm going to die someday. Today's not guaranteed. What matters most today?"
The Regret Review (5 minutes)
Every Sunday:
- What did I do this week I'm proud of?
- What did I avoid that I shouldn't have?
- If I died this week, what would I regret?
- What's one thing next week that future-me thanks me for?
The Trigger
Set a random phone reminder:
"Memento mori. You're going to die. Is what you're doing right now worth your time?"
Stoic Slap
"You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think."
Today. Right now:
- Do the Morning Death Check (30 seconds)
- Write your eulogy (15 minutes)
- Set the memento mori reminder (1 minute)
- Identify one thing you've been putting off—take the first step today
Because death isn't waiting for you to be ready.
Make it count.