The bad news: The research seems fairly conclusive—100 percent of us will die.

The good news: “Though the fact, the physicality, of death destroys us, the idea of death may save us.” –Irvin Yalom
How, exactly, can the idea of the Grim Reaper save us? Let’s take a little road trip to a Buddhist kingdom on the edge of the Himalayas to find out.

The country of Bhutan, nestled deep into the Himalayas, has been measuring their Gross National Happiness levels since 2006. Things have been going well over there; over 90 percent of their residents report being happy, to one extent or another. Following the Buddhist tradition, many Bhutanese people practice their death meditation five times each day. Fatality is the farthest thing from a taboo topic in this culture.

Eastern religions and philosophies, traditionally more open about the topic of death, have connected death and contemplation for ages; the Vedic texts in India have woven in themes of death reflection, and Buddhists—believing that death is the key to the mystery of life—extol the virtues of mindfully meditating on the thought of maranam bhavissati, meaning “death will take place.” Maranasati is the meditation we are talking about; marana translates to “death” in Pali, the language of the Buddha, and sati refers to “mindfulness.” In the words of the Buddha: “Of all the footprints, that of the elephant is supreme. Similarly, of all mindfulness meditation, that on death is supreme.”

The goal of death mindfulness is not merely to check the box on death awareness but to act as a catalyst for positive influence—like shifting our attitudes on the meaning of life, increasing our acceptance of death, and committing to a life of intention. All of this sounds lovely . . . but does it really work?

One study dug into whether this “mindfulness of death” practice could lead to positive psychological impact. Korean students were asked to meditate for fifteen minutes on the question “If there was not much more time to live, what would I do?” After the intervention, their attitudes about life tilted in favor of intrinsic values, they felt likelier to partake in prosocial behaviors, such as helping, giving, and being better citizens, and they were more accepting of death’s inevitability.

The Five Remembrances

These central Buddhist facets of life’s fragility are from the Upajjhatthana Sutta (“Subjects for Contemplation”) and are intended to create personal awakening:

1. I am of the nature to grow old; I cannot escape old age.
2. I am of the nature to get sick; I cannot escape sickness.
3. I am of the nature to die; I cannot escape death.
4. All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change; there is no way to escape being separated from them.
5. I inherit the results of my actions of body, speech, and mind; my actions are my continuation.

How might you feel about reciting these remembrances daily? How about five times each day? What would it be like to read these off a sticky note placed on your mirror, as you prepare for your day in the morning and get ready for bed at night? If you do it for a month, I’ll try it too. This might be the very thing that saves us from the inevitability of our endings.