Mortality becomes a pressing issue as we get older. As death gets closer, and we sense that our time is running out, we can become increasingly vulnerable to gloomy ruminations or even, perhaps, a creeping sense of panic. Of course, this is part of the human condition, but ‘death anxiety’ is becoming increasingly recognised as a ‘clinical’ phenomenon. For example, a self-help manual based on CBT techniques for death anxiety, written by Rachel Menzies and David Veale, was published in 2022. Death anxiety can be deeply distressing; however, the problem is often compounded when people are avoidant and fail to fully acknowledge their mortality. They aren’t mentally prepared when their time of dying finally comes.
Freud famously wrote that none of us really believe we are going to die. Deep down, in the unconscious, we are immortal. Defences vary, and some of them can be very subtle. Intellectualisation, for example, which allows us to think about death in the absence of emotional engagement. We deny death with countless immortality projects – a term which covers everything from intensive exercise programmes and faddish diet regimens to having one’s brain frozen for future reanimation.
It is generally believed that the Stoic philosophers of ancient Greece and Rome had the most useful things to say about coming to terms with death. Their approach is based on the cultivation of acceptance - which obviates the need to reduce anxiety with defences. They advocated thinking about death every day, not only to encourage acceptance, but also to inspire total engagement with life. If you are constantly aware that your time on earth is limited, you will be motivated to make the most of it. They also addressed anxieties by reframing death as something familiar rather than strange and terrifying. Most people aren’t troubled by the thought of not having existed before they were born. Death is just more of the same. And we shouldn’t view death as something that’s waiting for us in the future. It’s already here – we’re already dealing with it. ‘Whatever time is passed,’ Seneca said, ‘is owned by death’. After you get to a certain age, at least quantitatively, you are more dead than alive. We can apply this type of reframing to our memories. Instead of fearing oblivion, we should recognize that we are already largely oblivious. We have forgotten most of our experience of living long before we die. There are many more reframing devices discussed by Stoic philosophers, who conceptualised their cognitive strategies as a form of ‘hygiene of the soul’. In other words, therapy.
Although some people find Stoic prescriptions helpful, others don’t. Why should this be? Perhaps, it is because sometimes these prescriptions are experienced as intellectual exercises rather than felt, owned truths. To own Stoic truths, something must happen first. You must be in a state of readiness. As the old proverb says, ‘You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink’. Which begs the question, how do we achieve this state of readiness?
Many psychologists and great thinkers have suggested that receptivity to wisdom, particularly in the second half of life, is related to integration and wholeness. It is remarkable how frequently this idea recurs (implicitly and explicitly) in the writings of almost all the significant figureheads of all the major schools of psychotherapy. Divisions within the self are associated with poor psychological adjustment, whereas integration (or wholeness) is associated with good psychological adjustment. It is a deceptively simple idea. Anything that helps a person to integrate parts of the self (for example, mind and body, conscious and unconscious, rationality and intuition) will be beneficial. It is a formulation that in recent years has gained considerable support from cutting edge neuroscience.
C.G. Jung believed that personal growth – healing internal divisions and becoming whole - was the key task of the second half of life. Indeed, he supposed that personal growth can eliminate the need for specific treatments. In his most radical statement of this position, he suggested that most symptoms are probably incurable, and trying to treat them won’t work. We should outgrow them instead. We can then dispense with our defences, be more open to experience, and accept ourselves and the harsher realities of the human condition more readily.
A person terrified of death can grow, develop, integrate, and become whole. They will then be more receptive to Stoic truths and Stoic prescriptions will become felt truths, rather than sterile cognitive tricks.
Self-evidently, unless a truth is felt, we won’t feel its power.
