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Dead Man Waiting: How Pretending to Be Gone Helped Me Wake Up

Surviving death led me to find mindfulness—in the most unexpected place: a bus stop.

finding meditation at the bus stop by Canva
finding meditation at the bus stop by Canva

Coming Back from the Brink

On February 19, 2011, my heart stopped. As I collapsed onto my four-year-old son, my body limp, someone nearby rushed to perform CPR, used an AED, and called 911. I survived, but the aftermath wasn’t a Hollywood-style miracle. It felt more like rebooting an old computer—flickering, glitching, and unsure if everything would work the same again.


Afterward, I spent nearly a month on medical leave. While rest is supposed to be restorative, it often felt like my mind and body were playing a game of musical chairs, unable to settle. When I returned to work at the VA hospital, I carried a strange mix of gratitude and curiosity: Is this what “normal” is supposed to feel like?


Mindfulness at the Bus Stop

On my first day back, I sat at a bus stop with Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Wherever You Go, There You Are in hand. The book promised mindfulness could help calm my overactive brain. Between the diesel fumes and the damp concrete, I found a meditation prompt that stopped me cold: Imagine you are dead.


Really? That’s what it said. Picture no bills, no work, no endless to-do lists. Just nothingness. How did that feel?


For me, it triggered a vivid flashback to my near-death experience. Surprisingly, it wasn’t scary or isolating. It was peaceful. The stress and obligations that had weighed me down had simply disappeared—because I had disappeared.


Kabat-Zinn and Letting Go

There I was, reading Kabat-Zinn, realizing he had somehow reframed my near-death experience as a mindfulness exercise. It was absurd, yet oddly healing. For the first time, I understood that meditation wasn’t about grand spiritual feats—it was about gaining perspective, about finding a way out of anxiety’s grip.



This practice became my way to reset. Not in a “giving up” kind of way, but in a “clearing the slate” way. Here’s how it worked for me:

  • Overwhelmed by deadlines? I’d imagine myself gone—and suddenly, the deadlines seemed far less important.

  • Drowning in financial stress? A moment in the void made it clear that money wasn’t everything.

  • Exhausted by life’s endless demands? Pretending I didn’t exist helped me remember what actually mattered.


There’s even research on how mindfulness and cognitive-behavioral therapy reduce anxiety. It’s more clinical than dramatic, but highly effective.


Lessons from “Nonexistence”

This exercise wasn’t about courting the grave. It was about stepping back to see life clearly. By imagining nothingness, I was able to reconnect with everything that made life worth living—joy, love, and presence—without the constant clutter.



Sharing It at the VA

When I finally got on the bus to the VA hospital, book in hand, I wasn’t claiming to have all the answers. Veterans there were fighting their own battles, many far more intense than mine. But I had a tool—a simple, unconventional meditation practice—that helped me let go of what weighed me down. Maybe it could help them, too.


Pretend You’re Gone—Then Really Live

Sometimes, the best way to appreciate life is to imagine stepping outside it. Funny how a brush with death can teach you more about living than any self-help book ever could.


For Further Reading


 
 
 

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