The death drive: a “why” to handle “how”

Micah J. Marrapodi

Assistant Opinions Editor

You are going to die. That’s not a threat—it’s a promise. Everyone dies; it’s only a matter of time. Death is a certainty with broad implications. And as we enter autumn, the season of decay, I offer this call to adventure: Examine and embrace death—implications and all—and let it drive you to live fully. After all, as my grandfather says, you only get one bite at the apple. 

Over 2,000 years ago, in “Apology,” Plato’s Socrates declared, “[T]he unexamined life is not worth living.” I agree, but I would add that the unexamined death also makes life not worth living. If we want lives worth living, we must examine death, as well as life. This idea runs contrary to the tendency of some, my younger self included, to ignore the inevitable. But ignoring something doesn’t make it disappear. It might just mean you notice it too late. 

Thomas Gray reminds us in his poem “Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College” that “ignorance is bliss.” Many would argue that bliss is better than despair, just as pleasure is better than pain. But when it comes to death, I argue for embracing, not avoiding, the implications of mortality. After all, unstable bliss born of ignorance may lead someone to blindly meet an untimely demise. 

That said, I want to distinguish my version of mortal embracement, which works to prevent said untimely demise, from the nihilistic one. The latter often manifests as the impulse to conclude that life is meaningless, perhaps best and most intensely depicted by the Joker in the Batman franchise. In Christopher Nolan’s “The Dark Night,” Heath Ledger’s iconic portrayal of the Joker reveals a keen disregard for social mores and a desire to dismantle them through blowing up hospitals and engaging in anarchic shenanigans.

Illustration by Micah J. Marrapodi

Determining that life is meaningless is understandable. If everything ends, at least from our individual perspectives, isn’t it all just dust in the wind? The dead have no use for education, religion or politics. So why bother learning, worshipping or voting? Who cares? Why care? 

These questions, and the Joker’s nihilistic actions, suggest that someone has embraced mortality’s implications without duly examining the moment of death itself. That’s the key distinction. I advocate for a direct examination of death’s impending moment. Unlike either the nihilist, who affects indifference toward both human constructions and death itself, or the inconsiderate, who is either naturally or deliberately ignorant of death, I propose a considerate affectation. The nihilist and the inconsiderate might ask: Why examine and embrace death, implications and all? Why care? I answer: Because you will die.

Death is unavoidable. So, I propose embracing its implications and examining the moment it will happen. Here’s my call to adventure: Let the inevitability of death drive you to live fully, despite adversity. Channel the reality of death into fuel—alchemize the reaction it produces into energy—and let that push you to live as fully as you can manage, adversity notwithstanding. Furthermore, because mortality’s implications diminish the significance of education, religion and politics, remember: none of these are the be-all and end-all of your life. If you’ll have this adventure, your death is. Forget the socially constructed—read: arbitrary—things that bog you down. Remember that you’re going to die. Realize you’ve got more important things to attend to. 

Be forewarned: this adventure promises neither the rickety bliss of ignorance nor the notoriety of a nihilistic icon like the Joker. But it does offer what Friedrich Nietzsche, in “Twilight of the Idols,” calls a “why of life.” Nietzsche argues that this “why” is essential for enduring “almost any how.” The “why” offered by this call to adventure is this: On your deathbed, you’ll be able to think, “I lived, didn’t I? And now, I’m ready for eternal rest—I’ve earned it. No regrets.”

That sounds like a destination worth the journey. To face death thusly is a “why” that enables you to bear the “how” of conscious, examined existence. Of course, a “why” to live is one thing. “How” to live is something else entirely. But that’s a discussion for another time. Perhaps I’ll address it in my next article.

Until then, live fully—despite adversity—knowing you only get one shot. And who knows? You might not regret it.