Memento Mori

Memento Mori.

Remember you must die.

One of the most life-affirming things I’ve ever done is start living on a cemetery.

There is plenty of life here. A steady stream of visitors to the graves, dog walkers, and runners passing through on their daily run to admire the beauty of the place. Funeral processions, noise from the earth diggers that dig the graves, and the constant lawn mowing and hedge trimming.

There are owls, foxes, rabbits, and bats. There are birds in the tree outside my bedroom window, and a family of Starlings nesting in the gutter over the kitchen.

There are flowers; those left by mourning relatives, and those blooming in the spring. We have trees and shrubs and greenery; and big, dark, open skies with which to view the many millions of stars above.

And amongst the gentle hubbub there is also peace and quiet to reflect on all of this.

As I stand at the kitchen sink and look out at the gravestones I have silent space to ponder my own mortality.

This is an old cemetery and whilst death happened a lot earlier in the 1800s, one only has to take a quick look around the headstones to be reminded that death is always just around the corner.

So I choose to make the most of life. Memento Mori. Remember you must die.