How do I prepare spiritually for death without being morbid or obsessed?

Preparation isn't morbidity—it's clarity. Rumi lived differently once he understood that dying was coming. He didn't obsess; he loved more fiercely, wrote more freely, forgave more quickly. That's preparation: living in alignment with what matters. Start small. Ask yourself: If I died in six months, what would I regret not saying? Not doing? Who needs to hear they're loved? Write it down. Then—this is crucial—act on one thing this week. Across traditions, preparation looks similar: ethical living (so you can face yourself), generosity (loosening your grip on what you thought was yours), service (remembering your life touched others), contemplation (knowing yourself beyond your roles and fears). In Islamic tradition, they practice the five prayers as rehearsals for surrender. In Buddhism, meditation on impermanence isn't depressing—it's liberating. It makes this morning's coffee taste sweeter. Rumi said the wound is where the light enters. Acknowledging mortality is that wound. It doesn't kill you; it wakes you up. Your preparation isn't grim planning—it's permission to live truthfully now. Start a practice: ten minutes daily, thinking about what you genuinely value. Notice what changes.