If This Was My Last Breath

Courtesy of Kezenbah / Pixabay.com

Do every act of your life as though it were your last.
~Marcus Aurelius

What would your life look like, and how would you feel, if every act you did from the moment you woke up to the moment you fell asleep, you lived as though it would be your last one?

This quote by Marcus was the first thing I read as I sat on my cushion for meditation early one morning. I decided to challenge myself with this quote as I began my 20 minutes of stillness. What’s 20 minutes, right?

It sounded easy enough.

Follow me and visualize experiencing these moments with me.

It was 5:30 am.

An open window with a gentle breeze moving through the screen.

A small, flickering, lighted candle with the tree of life etched in the glass, filling the room with the dancing shadows on the windowsill and walls from a flame that did not want to be still.

I am sitting cross-legged on a comfortable cushion, with a warm blanket, facing the darkness outside. I tapped the three-chime button to begin and gently closed my eyes.

As I took a slow breath, I felt my lungs expand as I heard myself ask,

“What if this were your last breath?

I moved into the feeling those words gave me.

As I exhaled, a strange sensation appeared. Strange indeed, because it was a sensation of freedom. I say strange because what does ‘freedom’ have to do with acting out my moments as if they were my last?

I then pondered — did I even know what real freedom felt like?

Sure, we learned about freedom in school, but as children, we did what we were told and got disciplined when we didn’t. We always had to ask whether we could go here or there, and we were also told by those in charge when to return, what to eat, how to act, and so on. As we grew up as teenagers and then adults, rules were still everywhere — only they had different names.

There was never this kind of freedom that moved through my body, and mind, so how would I know?

Then, with a childlike curiosity, I released those thoughts and took another breath, even slower this time, and there it was again! The feeling of freedom! I felt all inhibitions, restraints, and hindrances dissolve as it moved through my body, mind, and spirit.

Interesting.

I calmly opened my eyes, trying to focus on the shadows outside, to see if I could make out anything that resembled trees. Because it was Winter, one could see across from the gully, through the trees, to the street, blocks away. There was a soft streetlamp in the distance that shone on the road below it, inviting me to its quiet path.

I closed my eyes again and visualized myself under the high lamp, unhurriedly walking, as I adjusted my beanie, which one of my closest friends knitted for me, and the warmth from it made me relax.

The question came back — What if this was the very last walk I took in this life?

What would it feel like?

I brought myself to observe as my shoes stepped on the small pebbles mixed with dirt and gravel. I’ve always loved the sound of walking on gravel as I quietly moved on the trails, because it was soothing and peaceful, and I felt honored for the years the Earth has held me up. The warmth beneath the soles of my shoes reminded me of all those who ever walked where I was now. There was a surge of strength that came through my feet, up my ankles, and legs. The power I felt was as if the Earth’s energy that carried those past shadows was with me, and we walked together.

I gave myself a few moments to embrace this profound concept, and then, as I considered the possibility that this might be my last walk, I smiled. I could not be any more grateful…to feel the energy of people, animals and insects of the past who brought my soul to a place of remembrance — that we are all one.

I turned around, looked across the barren woods, and saw my candle’s light in the distance, and slowly walked towards it.

Then stopped ~

I wanted to feel this tranquil moment…one more time.

So, I breathed in, closed my eyes, savoring the feel of this new and real kind of freedom.

When I exhaled, I found myself back on the cushion in the warmth of my room.

The three chimes, as if in sync with the rhythm of my experience, gently sounded, signaling that this meditation was complete.

Whoa — the twenty minutes seemed more like a few hours as I played back in my mind's eye what had happened when I moved out of the way and allowed my imagination to experience these acts as though they were my last.

We could say, “Well, that was only twenty minutes, Terry. Come on. How can you really feel the rawness of living these acts as if it were your last?”

Here’s the thing. Yes, it was only twenty minutes, although I was in silence. No distractions of any kind. It was me, the darkness, a cushion, a blanket, and a small candle. That backdrop just eased me into the experience — where the challenge stood was this: could I send my brain, the ego, and the mind back to bed and clear the room inside me to bring this thought into play?

I could, and I did.

I have been meditating for years, but about a year and a half ago I decided it was time to get serious — with a playful touch about clearing the thoughts that continuously used my mind as a playground. I wanted to gain valuable insights about my precious soul and our purpose here, so meditating every day for twenty minutes was my focus.

Let’s just say that because of this consistency, I can now be in the empty room of my mind's eye to experience the intention I ask for without the concern of how to do it.

I put the pencil down, curious about what the energy of freedom in this concept was trying to convey. It seems that as our last breath comes, and if we are in a place of acceptance, the freedom will be in the releasing of all the inhibitions, restraints, and hindrances that we carried throughout our lives.

Then what will come with us will be all the joy, peace, growth, and love we felt, shared, and experienced as we move on to the next chapter of who we are.

The result of this intention is the feeling of gratitude, and the fleeting feeling of what ‘real freedom’ does for our peace of mind.

Will I do this experiment again? In a heartbeat and next time for longer.

The energy outcome was too magnificent and life-changing not to.

Thought to ponder:
As you read this story, if you felt even a twinge of a rise in your energy, would you desire to give it a go? Something to consider, yes?

Namaste🫶

Taken by the author on an early morning walk.

©Terry Pottinger 2026