“Sssiiip… Nothing beats the first sip of coffee.”
I tell myself, sitting in a moderately cozy coffee shop, looking outside the window while people go on with their lives. A baby crying in their mother’s arms, couples walking hand in hand, a guitarist playing and losing himself in the music while people listen, absorbing the dark, rainy, chilled day.

A thought suddenly crosses my mind. Not that it has never come before—perhaps a million times. But today, it feels different.

What’s the point?

One day, I will die. So will everyone else.

What’s the **ing point of all of this? The chase for a name, the chase for grants, the medals, the respect, the positions? Suddenly, it all feels different. I wonder if it’s the gloomy evening or if it’s just me, alone. No, I think it’s neither. I enjoy my loneliness **solitude. I enjoy thinking, living, and being by myself.

Is this the so-called existential crisis, the one that strikes everyone at some point in life? No, I don’t think so. I am enjoying my existence. Then why does this question of death suddenly intrude?

Maybe it has something to do with the coffee.

Okay, let’s just blame the coffee and move forward.

The Unavoidable Truth

One day, we and everyone we know will be gone. Only a handful of what we do or say will matter, and even that—for just a brief moment in time.

With the pace at which technology is evolving, especially AI, this duration might be even shorter. How much shorter? Maybe the big tech companies know.

I believe this is the ultimate truth of life: everything we do is just a second-hand way to avoid confronting death, until reality strikes us for good.

We are just microscopic cosmic dust running around a tiny blue ball called Earth, fighting with other dust, saying:

“Damn! I am thriving.”

We wear a mask, one that signifies our “un”-true identity, and imagine our own importance. Every single day, we reinforce that mask, doing everything to keep the illusion intact.

From chasing a few hundred likes on a social media post to running after job promotions—it’s all the same. We want to stay relevant. We invent purposes, one after another, and live for them.

Only to realize that we are nothing.

The Certainty of Death

Am I enjoying thinking about my own death? Of course not. Nobody enjoys thinking about their own death.

But I believe it is absolutely necessary. Perhaps one of the most important psychological exercises one can do.

“Death is the only thing that is certain.”

Chapter 2, Verse 27 of the Bhagavad Gita says:

jātasya hi dhruvo mṛityur dhruvaṁ janma mṛitasya cha
tasmād aparihārye ’rthe na tvaṁ śhochitum arhasi

(jātasya—for one who has been born; hi—for; dhruvaḥ—certain; mṛityuḥ—death; dhruvam—certain; janma—birth; mṛitasya—for the dead; cha—and; tasmāt—therefore; aparihārye arthe—in this inevitable situation; na—not; tvam—you; śhochitum—lament; arhasi—befitting)

“Death is certain for one who has been born, and rebirth is inevitable for one who has died. Therefore, you should not lament over the inevitable.”

The Illusion of Importance

Interestingly, knowingly or unknowingly, my decisions in life have always been shaped by the fact that one day, I will die.

Yet, most people spend their entire lives chasing things that do not matter. The very fact that we are all destined for death should make us love each other more. But strangely, it does not.

Instead:

  • We nitpick trivialities.
  • We hate each other.
  • We despise everyone.
  • What the f?***

We should be choosing values well beyond ourselves. Yet, we let life’s trivialities consume us.

We regret everything.
We are happy with nothing.
We chase happiness, yet we have never sat alone and reflected on the fact that true happiness comes only when we care for something beyond ourselves.

This is the feeling that draws us to temples, inspires us to raise a family, motivates us to save money, and drives us to buy a car.

All of us chase greatness.

We wonder what legacy we will leave behind.

But in doing so, we often forget: we are already winners.

We were born winners.
One in millions of sperm fertilized that egg with a probability of 1/infinity.

The degrees we chase, the medals we earn, the class, the cars, the house—they do not define greatness.

We are already great.
Because we know what to care for and what not to, amid the utter confusion of life and the certainty of death.

What Truly Matters

We do not have to achieve everything to have a meaningful life.

Instead:

  • We should care for others.
  • We should care for peace.
  • We should care for the planet.

We should slowly loosen the mask of importance and soften the shield of ego. We should try to impact lives, however small that impact may be.

One day, we too will be dead and forgotten, like the tree that was cut down to build the house we live in.

So, let’s just pause for a moment.
Let’s think inward.
Let’s be thankful for our existence.

And let’s just enjoy our own cup of coffee.