Editing Daily Thoughts/13th of October, 2025

Why You Should Fear Death Not Because It Is Death

We pass through our daily existence in a state of quiet unawareness. Our actions, words, and decisions often occur without deep reflection, for the brevity of life does not permit endless contemplation of every detail. Human life is finite, and in that finitude lies both its urgency and its blindness. Though we know, in an abstract sense, that death awaits each of us, we rarely confront it consciously. The awareness of mortality resides beneath the surface of thought, influencing our choices without our notice. Yet the moment we turn our full attention to it, fear arises. The very idea of ceasing to exist fills the mind with unease and sorrow.

Why does this fear appear?

Why do I fear death?

To understand this, we must first ask: why do we fear anything at all? Fear, at its core, is a response to potential harm. I fear the lion because it may destroy my body. I fear touching an electric wire with wet hands because it may shock me. I fear my elders when I have done wrong because I may be scolded or shamed. In all these instances, fear emerges as a protective mechanism, a safeguard of self-preservation. Regardless of the degree of danger, fear’s essence lies in our desire to avoid pain, loss, or destruction.

Then should death itself be feared? Perhaps it is not death that terrifies us, but the process of dying. It is not nonexistence but the suffering, uncertainty, and helplessness that precede it. To die is inevitable; to know how one will die is impossible. Thus, our anxiety often belongs not to death itself but to the journey toward it.

Yet the fear persists even when reason recognizes death as certain. We continue to tremble because death represents the end of all possibility. It denies us another cup of coffee with friends, another evening of laughter with family, another moment of joy under the sun. Earlier we established that fear arises from harm, and deprivation too is a form of harm—the loss of future happiness, the extinction of experience. By that logic, our fear of death appears justified.

But is it truly justified?

We know that death is inescapable. No effort, no wealth, no wisdom can prevent it. To live in constant dread of what cannot be avoided is to burden life with a futile anxiety. If I were certain that I would fail no matter how much I studied or worked, would I not cease to struggle? In the same way, fearing death is a kind of rebellion against the natural order, a resistance without purpose.

Still, I fear death. Why? Because the meaning of death given to me by society is not mere dissolution of flesh and bone, but passage. Death is portrayed not as the end of existence but as an entry into another realm—the so-called afterlife. My fear, then, is not of ceasing to be, but of what follows. I do not fear being deprived of the simple joys of life—tea with friends, journeys with family—but rather the possibility of judgment, of heaven and hell.

Yet perhaps this too is an illusion. The mind, uncomfortable with the unknown, fills it with myth. Society cultivates this fear so that obedience replaces inquiry. But if death truly ends consciousness, then there is nothing to experience, and where there is no experience, there can be no fear. Death, in that case, harms no one, for to be harmed one must exist. When death is present, I am not; when I am present, death is not.

The rational mind must therefore conclude that the fear of death is misplaced. To live well is not to seek eternity but to live with awareness of its absence. Meaning is not found beyond the grave but within the brief span of life itself. Each act of thought, laughter, and love becomes sacred precisely because it will vanish. To embrace mortality is not to welcome death, but to affirm life in its fullest form.