Reborn Every Day

“Every day, we die; and every day, we are reborn.”

I was on a recent Zoom call with Maria Nebres when she said this, and her words made a lasting impression. Nebres is a transformation coach for executives and professionals, and I really appreciate her philosophy that whoever you are and wherever you’re from, you can choose to change your life and actively take steps to become the person you want to be.

Of course, death may seem like a somewhat extreme metaphor for personal transformation; but that idea of constant rebirth has a powerful draw for me. I greatly prefer it to the idea that we must first physically die before we can be reborn.

How death transformed my life

In a more literal sense, my own transformational experience of death was the sudden death of my father.

I was a young man, fresh out of college, when he suffered his fatal arrhythmia.

I’d had a complex relationship with my father, and his death left some of those complexities permanently unresolved. I wish now that I could have more successfully perceived his death as an opportunity for me to begin my own life anew.

Certainly that’s how we wanted to see it, at the time. That winter my Mom, my sister, and I all got butterfly tattoos together, as a symbol of our shared aspiration to transform our lives into something new and beautiful, despite our grief and setbacks.

With my mother and sister, showing off our brand-new butterfly tattoos in 1997.

My mother and I scattered his ashes at Cape Alava, which had been a favorite family camping destination throughout my childhood.

This dusty keepsake box contains the last few odds and ends of my father’s worldly possessions: a broken watch, some business cards, and a stack of sympathy cards from well-wishers following his funeral. The photo on the lid shows Cape Alava, where we scattered his ashes.

I’ve written elsewhere about how, years later, my sister carried a final small portion of our father’s ashes around with her in a plastic sandwich baggie as we traveled the world together; until one night in India, she and I devised an impromptu ceremony, and scattered his ashes in the holy Ganges River, accompanied by tiny floating candles and flower petals.

My sister at the ghats in Benares, scattering our father’s ashes in the holy Ganges River accompanied by floating tea lights and flower petals in memoriam. January, 2001.

Our father had said that he always wanted to go to India, but he had never gone there during his life. Now, some part of him could be part of India in death.

To be reborn as your ideal self, you must be intentional

But if we’re not careful, our transformation may not take us in the direction we want to go.

Although my father had been put to rest, my own issues had not. I had struggled with depression through my teens, and I continued to struggle with depression for most of my adult life. I wanted to be someone who spreads love and hope through the world; but I was held back by my own bitterness and occasional recklessness.

Complicated Relationships

Just as my relationship with my father was complicated, so too is my relationship with myself now complicated.

On the one hand, I have accomplished tremendous things. I have traveled the world; I have started a business; I have written a number of books; I have recorded more than a hundred original songs; and I have played music in some really fun bands — and sometimes I even got paid for the privilege! And now, all these years later, I have a wonderful family with an amazing wife and two incredible kids. It’s a life that, frankly, others envy. I know this, because an old friend from high school made his envy quite clear, in an expletive-laden rant he posted on my Facebook page a couple years ago.

And yet, that’s not the whole story. On closer inspection, my so-called tremendous accomplishments are not quite so radiant. My business utterly failed several years ago, and trying to restart it has proven immensely challenging. Most of the books I’ve written remain unpublished, and the few I’ve formally released have not sold well. Most of the music I’ve recorded languishes on dusty CDs, unheard by the world apart from a few close friends and family members.

In my late twenties, after returning from my enlightening world travels, I experienced a period of what could best be described as homelessness.. I slept in my car and couch surfed for a time, until I eventually took to living in a barn. I imagined myself as a sort of modern Henry David Thoreau; but the reality was not so glamorous. The barn was cold, and lacked modern plumbing facilities. It was not a life most people would envy; and yet it was the best life I could create for myself at the time.

The Death and Rebirth of Dreams

My dreams have died; and my dreams have been reborn. My hopes have died, and my hopes have been reborn. My very identity has died; and my identity has been reborn.

And I am not unique.

We all die, every day, each of us; and we are reborn every day.

If we are intentional about this process, if we carefully focus on the future self we wish to become, and deliberately take steps to achieve that outcome: then we can be reborn as the person we wish we had been all this time. If we focus our minds on feelings of gratitude, in appreciation for the wonders of this world and all that has gone right in our lives, then we can let go of our bitterness, regardless of what has happened in the past; and this positive attitude will excite a positive response from the people we encounter in our daily lives, who will reward us by showering us with opportunities, gifts, and praise.

We must forgive ourselves for the mistakes of the past; and we must learn to let go of our feelings of blame, and forgive others for their mistakes of the past, as well.

Let us allow bitterness to die a last gruesome death and stay dead. Let us learn to focus our minds instead on thankfulness and joy.

Tomorrow morning, when we are again reborn, let us emerge as a better version of ourselves.