It's a little quirk or habit of mine, but I like to imagine I am dying. Is that strange?
Not a morbid, gruesome death fantasy. I just like to imagine that I have been given a short time to live and then I imagine all the things I would do, the reactions and feelings I would have. I like the feeling of true perspective that thinking about dying gives me. It helps to humble me and to show me that everything is temporary and impermanent and that all the things I think are SO important are really not. It helps to remind me that hugging and kissing and praising my son is the utmost important thing I could ever do with my time. To look at him with love and pride and see his sense of self-worth go up just that little bit. THAT is really valuable.
But finishing my "great novel"? Nah, that is just another ambition. Sure, a lovely thing if I can do it, but not really important. Washing the dishes and cleaning? Also not super valuable. Good things to do, yes, and necessary, but not at the expense of listening and acknowledging and just being.
I am human and I do forget what really matters, quite often. I slip up and slip into rushing about, ticking off my to-do list and generally getting things done. But every now and then I am reminded of death, and that reminds me to really live.