HOW MORTALITY AWARENESS CAN TRANSFORM CHRISTMAS
A reflection on presence, impermanence, and the meaning we forget to notice.
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The Quiet Miracle of Being Here
What if the thing that could make this Christmas feel more meaningful, more alive, more real, is not more effort or more spending or more trying to get it right, but a simple remembering that being alive is already… extraordinary.
Out of everything that had to happen for you to be here: every breath, every narrow escape, every turning of history…you are here, today, in this body, in this season, sharing this moment with other living, breathing humans.
Your ancestors had to live and die for life to reach you. Through winters, migrations, illnesses, loves, and wars, life was passed forward until it arrived here, as you.
Beyond that, the improbability stretches even further. This planet, this sun, this vast cosmos all had to align for consciousness to exist at all.
That you are here, feeling and aware, is astonishing. A quiet miracle.
Christmas has always tried to remind us of this. Not through perfection or spectacle, but through warmth in the middle of winter and people gathering because time, somehow, brought us together. When we remember how rare it is to be alive, something softens. We stop trying to manufacture meaning and start noticing it.
When a Season of Stillness Becomes Noise
And yet, for many of us, Christmas has become the most exhausting moment of the year. A season once rooted in stillness has turned into noise. A celebration of connection has been replaced by pressure, performance, shopping, and obligation.
If Christmas already feels heavy for you this year, if you feel tired before it has even begun, there is nothing wrong with you.
We buy more because we feel less. We fill our homes with objects while starving the moment of attention.
This is not a failure of Christmas. It is a sign of disconnection. From nature. From ourselves. From the simple truth that time is not infinite.
Listening to Winter Again
Christmas arrived at the darkest point of the year for a reason. It aligned with the winter solstice, when the days stop shortening and light begins its slow return. It is a moment when nature pauses, when growth retreats underground, when life rests, gestates, waits.
But we have forgotten how to listen to winter. Instead of slowing, we accelerate. Instead of turning inward, we overwhelm ourselves with light, plastic, noise, sugar, and schedules. We try to feel alive by doing more at the very moment nature is inviting us to do less.
A Story of Fragility and Light
Even the story at the heart of Christmas points toward this truth. The birth of Christ was not loud, wealthy, or impressive. It happened quietly, in vulnerability, in darkness.
It reminds us that meaning does not arrive through excess but through presence. That the sacred enters the world not through power, but through fragility. Whether taken literally or symbolically, it is a story about life choosing limits. About divinity entering mortality. About light appearing softly rather than forcing itself into the world. That message is still there, if we allow it to be.
When Time Is No Longer Taken for Granted
When we avoid thinking about mortality, we treat Christmas as something we will always get another chance at. There will be another one. Another turkey. Another conversation. Another year to say what matters.
So we postpone presence. We rush moments we could soften. We stay distracted in rooms we will one day ache to return to.
But when we remember that time is finite, something changes. The noise falls away. The moment steadies. This imperfect Christmas becomes enough.
What Mortality Gives Back
Mortality has a way of stripping Christmas back to its essence. When you remember that everyone in the room is mortal, including you, the small things loosen their grip. You listen more carefully. You forgive faster. You stop needing the day to be different.
Because one day, you would give anything to sit at this table again exactly as it is.
A Threshold, Not a Performance
Christmas is not just a celebration. It is a threshold. A pause before the year turns. A moment to ask not how to improve your life, but how to live it more honestly.
New Year resolutions often fail because they try to add more to already full lives. Mortality aware intention asks something quieter. Given that my time is limited, how do I want to show up for the life I already have.
Choosing Presence Over Perfection
So what does a mortality aware Christmas look like? It looks like choosing presence over perfection. People over things. Attention over accumulation. Gifting experience over more stuff.
It looks like putting the phone down, staying in the conversation, letting go of how the day should be, and meeting it as it is. It looks like saying the words you would regret not having said.
There may still be grief. There may be empty chairs. Mortality does not erase that. But it allows grief and gratitude to sit at the same table. It reminds us that love does not end when someone is gone, and that remembering them is part of what makes this season sacred.
A Gentle Question
So before Christmas passes, pause for a moment and ask yourself:
If I truly remembered how precious it is to be alive, how would I live this day?
Because when we stop denying mortality, we stop postponing life. And Christmas returns to what it has always been. A quiet, human, midwinter reminder to choose meaning while we can.
Thank You Dear Community
Dying to Live with Purpose will be taking a short holiday and returning in January 2026.
Thank you so much for being part of 2025. In under three months, this community has grown to over 500 subscribers, which feels extraordinary. We’re deeply grateful to each of you for reading, reflecting, replying, and helping shape what this space is becoming.
This project is always evolving. We’re refining it constantly, with one simple aim: to make it as valuable and transformative for you as possible. The deeper intention is to help grow mortality awareness into something practical and life-giving, a true wellbeing practice, not just an idea.
Your reflections and feedback have been a vital part of that, and they’re always welcome.
Looking ahead to 2026, there’s a lot taking shape. We’ll be sharing this work through podcasts and wider media, the Reverstory AI tool will be going live, the first in-person retreat will take place, and a book is slowly coming into form. More than anything, our aim is to deepen the value and the sense of real, transformative connection in this community.
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Thank you for being here. We’ll see you in the new year.
Happy Christmas,
Hoppy
Tools & Updates
The Ultimate Meditation: A guided practice designed to help you slow down, reflect on mortality, and reconnect with a life of no regrets. Many people tell me it helps them discover greater calm, gratitude, and clarity.
Tools: For guided exercises to help you live these ideas day to day.
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Latest Video: Conversation with Isla Macleod, ‘How Life’s Cycles Help Us Live With Purpose’
Go deeper: The Incredible Way Mortality Awakens Happiness / The Impact of Death Denial on Our Health / The Surprising Way Mortality Enhances Creativity
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Last week I facilitated my first guided workshop at The Gathering, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. It was powerful and very healing for the participants and it has given me the belief to pursue live workshops and guided retreats in 2026. Do get in touch if you would be interested in a retreat.
I saved this one to read later and have just done so :) Beautiful reflections - interesting also for someone who spends Christmas in the Southern hemisphere, with long sunny days as opposed to winter hibernation mode! Even so, it's the biggest chunk of time I spend with my family (I live in the Northern Hemipshere), and therefore very much calls for my presence.