Thanatos.

"All is Vanity" by C. Allan Gilbert

The Emperor asked Master Gudo, "What happens to a person of enlightenment after death?"
"How should I know?" replied Gudo.
"Because you are a master," answered the Emperor.
"Yes sir," said Gudo, "but not a dead one."

Death. The great motivator. The great equalizer. The great fear that keeps those of us with neurosis up at night. But those of us with neurosis should take advantage of a rare opportunity: Your own fear of Death is one of very few things that you can blame on something else.

Death--like Sex, Birth, and Food--is a universal experience to all people, plants, animals and, if we want to wax philosophical, any and all phenomena as well. (No more philosophy in this post.) It's a thing that will directly affect each individual sooner or later. Because Death is not like cufflinks or television (one can't just ignore it by not purchasing something), people have been forced to deal with it. And here in the Western Hemisphere where rejuvenating lotions, movies, and respirators abound, we've learned to regard Death as a terrifying spectre that should be warded off each morning and night in front of the bathroom mirror. 

But there are traditions with different perspectives on Death. The yogis of India and Tibet see it as a transitional point in consciousness. The Greeks of Homer's day viewed it as the thing which united men. The Samurai (and the Greeks and the Romans) saw it as an opportunity to attain honor. Death, in these examples, seems....positive. Or at the very least, neutral. 

Death's neutral/positive spin can only happen when Death is acknowledged, accepted, and its inevitability is kept in one's mind. The astute zen or LSAT student will ask, "Doesn't the application of rejuvenating lotions and the warding off of Death imply that Death is indeed kept in people's minds?" And the answer is, "Great question. No."

The reason the answer to that great question is "no," is because the action of warding off Death denies Death's inevitability; applying lotion to stop the wrinkles, or requesting the respirator to do your dad's lungs' work for him is operating under the delusion that Death can be controlled. 

But let's say you're a Zen meditator sitting in the zazen posture; take that perspective: "I was born. I will die. Now that I know the outcome, how shall I use the rest of my time?"

Your answer will unlikely be "buy and apply more lotion." Nor will it be "rob a liquor store and kill the penguins at the zoo." Because you have the wherewithal to even ask this question, your answer cannot be nihilistic or desperate...and you probably have the presence of mind to not answer it at all.

Instead, you'll finish your meditation, stand up from your cushion, and get on with daily life. But some things will change: You'll have more time in the morning. You'll sleep more soundly. Missing the train, or the bus, or the point of the conversation won't irk you quite as much. You'll have a bit more money in your bank account. You'll enjoy the company of your friends more. And if you're studying for the all-important LSAT, your score will climb. And if you choke on the test, you'll feel disappointment, shrug it off, and sign up for the next test. 

But this only happens when you, the student, break out of the view of Death you've been raised with and look at it with new eyes. The way of the television and our parents is the way of "Get it done before Death gets you!" We become rushed, disorganized, and panicked by our limited amount of time.

Instead, recognize the way you've been raised and adopt a better way: "Get it done because Death will get you." This will breed calm, focus, and an appreciation for the time you already have.