Death & Dying, Life & Living: A Mixtape

A death doula's musical celebration of the art of living and the art of dying.

Hello folks! This is certainly a different type of piece for this publication. It’s been brewing in me for a few weeks now and I’m excited to share this creation.

“Of Death & Dying, Of Life & Living” is a curated mixtape compiled from songs I discovered as far back as ten years ago to as recently as last month. I go to these songs to foster contemplation and inspiration. They’re best listened to in a quiet place - perhaps with a cup of tea, a candle, and a journal nearby - or on a long drive with nowhere to be but with your thoughts, with the lyrics, and with the present moment.

They aren’t bound by any particular genre - and purposefully so. There’s a tune here for almost every taste and any mood: pop, folk, rock. Melancholy, joyful, heartbroken.

The full playlist is below. I didn’t include each song in this piece because 1) I ran out of room! And 2) because some of the songs that didn’t make this list elicit more of a feeling than something that would easily translate into writing. Listen to the full playlist. Experience them for yourself. Then you’ll know what I mean.

I hope this mix inspires you to bring a little more mindfulness to the present, and perhaps some pondering as to what might be next. Maybe these lyrics will invite you to sit with whatever meaning you choose to apply to it all - and whether that meaning is in alignment with your one wild and precious life.

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“Saturn,” Sleeping at Last

“You taught me the courage of stars before you left
How light carries on endlessly, even after death
With shortness of breath
You explained the infinite
And how rare and beautiful it is to even exist”

We’re kicking things off with a song that guts me every time I hear it. Those soaring strings definitely help. Depending on my mood, sometimes the lyrics call to mind my mother or my partner – both of whom are THANKFULLY still Earthside. Sometimes I’ll think of my grandfather who died when I was 19 and with whom, to this day, I regret being unable to share the stories of my life.

Either way, I’ll cry.

Try listening to this while thinking of someone you love – whether they’re alive or dead – and allow yourself to be filled with the eviscerating beauty of loving someone, of being alive, of simply existing.

“Full of Life,” Eli Hurt

“And it’s so wonderful being vulnerable
To admit we’re doomed to die
And it’s so comfortable being misеrable
But it’s so dangerous to be so fucking full of lifе”

My newsletter got its title from this song! The lyrics called to my soul from my first listen.

This song speaks of being full of hope, of vitality, of life, even though doing so is inherently dangerous. Easier to be complacent. Easier not to “get your hopes up.” Easier not to take chances. Easier to be miserable. Otherwise, you risk getting let down or being heartbroken.

But this song – and the story of the vibrant alive girl among the lyrics – is an inspiration to rise up and Live in all of its painful, chaotic messiness. (Side note: one day, I’ll do a full-length piece dissecting the lyrics in their entirety)

“Call Your Mom,” Ben Lapidus

“Clean your fucking room
Call your fucking mom
Tell her all the things you need to say before she's gone
Life is really sad but the world is on your side
And no one gives a frozen shit what you do with your life
So do what makes you happy and find people to love
Don't be so dramatic, you have always been enough”

Many thanks to

Josh Luton

(I think?) for a random Note recommending this song, which has been one of several that I’ve been playing on repeat.

While it begins with a reflection on the regrets of alcoholism, it sneaks in themes of Living: being brave enough to turn from the bottle and face life head-on. It serves as a simple, profound reminder to tell the people we love that we love them – in all our messy, human ways.

“No Hard Feelings,” The Avett Brothers

“Will I join with the ocean blue?
Or run into a savior true?
And shake hands laughing
And walk through the night, straight to the light
Holding the love I've known in my life
And no hard feelings”

If I die listening to these words, I think I’d be a happy woman indeed. The entire song is a moving farewell: tender and poignant and bittersweet.

There is so much love to be held in a single lifetime. What might it be like to live in such a way that we can bid farewell with no hard feelings? And how might we begin living in that way today?

“Sunrise, Sunset,” Fiddler on the Roof

“Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears”

When I was first getting into death work, I happened to watch Fiddler on the Roof for the first time. “Sunrise, Sunset” unexpectedly hit me like a brick to the face.

Initially, it’s a wedding song song reflecting the nostalgia of the newlyweds’ parents. But it becomes apparent that they’re reflecting on more than love and marriage: it’s a collective wondering of where the time goes and just how fast it moves if we don’t pay attention.

We have what I’ve been calling “time anxiety:” we bemoan passing birthdays and the short intervals between haircuts and another month passed on…but do we really sit with time? Do we feel its weight?

If we truly understood the concept of finitude and passing time, what would change? Would we be more free with our affection, more willing to say the things that are often unsaid until a deathbed?

“The Parting Glass,” The High Kings

“So fill to me the parting glass
And drink a health whate'er befalls
Then gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be to you all”

This is another farewell song I wouldn’t mind drifting away to. The lyrics speak of a triumphant goodbye and a life well lived.

Unlike some of the other songs in this mix, “The Parting Glass” isn’t really a battle cry, or even an invitation to live. It’s instead a peaceful “bid thee well,” sung by a man who is at peace in both life and in death.

In birth, we arrive with fists clenched tight. So how wonderful to think death might be like this: a letting go of life with an open, loose palm.

“Could Have Been Me,” The Struts

“I wanna taste love and pain
Wanna feel pride and shame
I don't wanna take my time
Don't wanna waste one line
I wanna live better days
Never look back and say
Could have been me”

I discovered this one on a pump-up workout playlist while trolling Spotify for a little something to power a deadlift session. At first, I enjoyed the punky, rock’n roll aspect: an “action movie”-like song that could have been written for edgy teenage boys.

But then I listened a little closer.

And I realized what it actually was: a daring battle cry and call to action.

I want to live in such a messy, bold way that I’ll know I gave life everything I had. This is easier said than done, and so I like that the lyrics nod to the fact that to live life in that way, you need to experience the less-fun parts: feeling love AND pain. Pride AND shame. And so, at the end, I don’t want to look back and think, “it could have been me.”

“One Last Drink,” Enter the Haggis

“I've had a life that's full, everyone's been good to me
So fire up that fiddle, boy, And give me one last drink
When the sun comes up, I will leave without a fight
The world is mine tonight.”

Another great song to die to! Or to blast loud in your car as you barrel down the freeway…as I often enjoy doing.

Despite being upbeat and catchy, it’s undeniable that the song is describing someone on their deathbed. It’s an interesting contrast to pair such joy alongside a song about death, and for this reason, I think it’s worth a listen. (Might help to dispel some of that good ole’ death anxiety)

I love the line about his full life, “everyone’s been good to me.” It’s inspiring to think that maybe when I reach my own deathbed, this is the perspective I can hold: that my life was lived loud and full, and even though there may be regrets, for the most part, I felt everyone was good to me. That the good significantly outweighed the bad.

“I Just Want to Sell Out My Funeral,” The Wonder Years

“'Cause I'm sick of seeing ghosts
And I know how it's all gonna end.
There's no triumph waiting.
There's no sunset to ride off in.
We all want to be great men
And there's nothing romantic about it.
I just want to know that I did all I could with what I was given.”

Admittedly, listening to this song is a whopping over-7-minutes-long commitment. The lyrics are an amalgamation of lyric snippets from different songs in the full album. None of this is relevant to the content of the song itself, except to say that I think the end is best experienced if you’ve had the cumulative buildup of the rest of it.

The very last line of this monumental doozy is the one which resonates hardest with my heart. “I just want to know I did all I could with what I was given.”

It makes me ask, how am I choosing to use my gifts, my privileges, my life circumstances? Am I squandering them or making the most of them in my own unique ways?

We don’t need to change the world. But we need to be able to look ourselves in the mirror and know we are indeed, and in our own ways, doing all we can with what we are given.

“Rock + Roll,” eden

“No, I ain't scared of livin'
'Cause it's all we've got
What are we breathin' for if we ain't livin'? (No, I ain't scared of livin')
And I don't want your love
I just wanna feel like I'm still livin' (no, I ain't scared of livin')
And if there is no God
I'll know the day I die, I lived through heaven (no, I ain't scared of livin')
And that I gave it hell
And if it hurt, oh well, at least that's living (no, I ain't scared of livin')”

Let’s face it: life’s tough. It can be ugly and miserable and deeply painful. It’s easy to be afraid of living, as I sometimes am. Once, I was so afraid to Live that I found refuge in the dark emptiness of depression.

Yet through it all, there’s a defiant sort of hope at the core of this song: “I gave it hell…if it hurt, oh well, that’s living.”

It doesn’t bypass the reality of pain. It instead dives headfirst into it…and still asks if you will live.

“Skipping Stone,” Transit

“I'm getting good at saying goodbye
But I've always been better at believing
That you're better off
Wherever you go, go with all your heart
Worn out and broken in like hand me downs”

It might sound a little crazy, but listening to this for the first time was one of the final factors solidifying my decision to uproot my life and move across the country. (That story is still unfolding within my book.)

Hearing this was like being shaken by the universe: “Go with all your heart.” And I knew instantly what I refused to accept for so long: I wasn’t going anywhere with all my heart – staying in Baltimore and in my mostly-dead relationship would have been more autopilot complacency.

To this day, I still use that line as a mental check-in: is this choice in alignment? Am I doing this all-in, or is this something I’m choosing out of a fear-based mindset?

Sometimes I still choose the “safer” route. But the power in this line of questioning is the intentionality it brings. I intentionally choose with all my heart to do something, - even seeking safer options - rather than meekly floating down the river of my life.

How empowering indeed, to both ask and answer the question, “where am I going that I’m pursuing with all my heart?” It’s a potent question that’s full of potential and full of life.

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Hello, reader!! Thank you so, so much for being here. <3 If you particularly loved this edition of Full of Life, perhaps you’d consider buying me a quick coffee? Your support makes my heart melt, and lets me know you find my writing worthwhile. I rather like the one-time support option, as it feels more manageable than the monthly financial commitment of a paid subscription.

All that money-stuff aside, being gifted this space in your inbox is a true honor, and I promise I will continue to deliver quality writing.

I am a death doula who believes in the power of sharing our stories. I help people explore their relationship with death, which inevitably includes exploring their relationship with life. I hold and honor the stories of the dead through writing unique obituaries, crafting entire memoirs, and planning bespoke funeral services. Learn more about my work and how I can help you at numbered-days.com.

Additionally, I own a copywriting studio serving up SEO website copywriting for service-based business owners and creatives. If that sounds like you and you know you need copy, check out my work here: nikileiwrites.com.