Considering My Impermanence Sitting With the Nine Contemplations of Death
- Yurani Cubillos
- Feb 10
- 4 min read
Dying is the one thing we all have in common, no matter who you are, what you do, or how much you have. And yet, we are so afraid to talk about it. Afraid to say the thing out loud. Afraid to let it be real.
We live in a society obsessed with protecting our peace, often at the expense of truth. Comfort is prioritized over honesty. Avoidance is mistaken for healing. But I am drawn to the conversations that sit just beneath the surface. The ones that feel uncomfortable, but necessary. The ones that allow us to exist more fully in our truth and our authenticity.
As I move through the learning process of becoming a death doula, I find myself asking different kinds of questions. Questions rooted in curiosity. Questions that invite depth instead of distance. I am less interested in quick answers and more interested in knowing people more deeply, and in inviting them to know themselves more honestly.
This week, as part of that inquiry, I sat with The Nine Contemplations of Death, sometimes called the Nine-Point Death Meditation, originally taught by Atisha Dipamkara Shrijnana, an 11th-century Indian Buddhist scholar whose teachings shaped Tibetan Buddhism. These contemplations come from the lojong, or mind-training tradition, and invite us to reflect on mortality as a way of deepening how we live. Each contemplation asks us to face impermanence directly, without turning away.
The nine contemplations are:
Death is inevitable.
The time of death is uncertain.
At the time of death, only what we have cultivated within will matter.
Your own body cannot help you at the time of your death.
Your possessions cannot help you at the time of your death.
The people you love cannot go with you.
The causes of death are many.
Life is fragile and easily disrupted.
When death comes, it comes alone.
The one that stayed with me most was this: Your own body cannot help you at the time of your death.
It landed deeply because, as a woman, so much of my life has revolved around my body. How it looks. How it should change. How it should take up less space. I do not remember a time when I was not on a diet or wanting to lose a few pounds. My body has often felt like a project, something to manage, rather than something to honor.
And yet, this body is what has carried me through everything. Through joy and grief. Through becoming and unbecoming. Through moments of strength and moments of collapse.
Considering my impermanence has softened me. It has slowed me down. It has made me listen
more closely, to others and to myself. When the time comes, I hope I have arrived at a place where I fully accept the body that has carried me this far. Not because it was perfect, but because it was mine. Because it showed up for me again and again, even when I struggled to show up for it.
Sitting with death has a way of rearranging our priorities. It asks us what we are clinging to, and why. It invites us to love more honestly, including the body we are living in now.
I invite you to sit with the Nine Contemplations of Death in your own time. Read them slowly. Notice which ones you move past quickly and which ones ask you to pause. Pay attention to what comes up in your body, in your breath, in your emotions.
You do not have to arrive at answers. Curiosity is enough.
What do these contemplations stir in you? What do they soften? What do they ask you to look at more closely?
Sometimes the practice is not about understanding, but about allowing ourselves to feel what we have been taught to avoid.
FAQs
1. Why talk about death when life already feels heavy?
Because avoiding death does not make life lighter, it often makes it smaller. Sitting with mortality is not about dwelling in fear or darkness; it is about telling the truth. When we acknowledge that life is fragile and finite, we are invited into a more honest relationship with how we love, how we show up, and what we choose to hold onto. Naming death does not take meaning away from life, it clarifies it.
2. Is this about preparing to die, or about learning how to live?
It is about learning how to live more fully. The Nine Contemplations of Death are not meant to rush us toward an ending, but to bring us into deeper presence now. They ask us to look at what we rely on for safety and identity, our bodies, our possessions, our roles, and to notice what remains when those fall away. What emerges is often tenderness, honesty, and a quieter sense of what truly matters.
3. What if sitting with impermanence feels overwhelming or emotional?
That response makes sense. We have been taught to avoid these conversations, to protect comfort rather than tend to truth. If something feels overwhelming, it does not mean you are doing it wrong. You can move slowly. You can pause. You can come back later. The practice is not about forcing insight, it is about noticing. Curiosity is enough. Even discomfort can be a form of listening.
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