When We Die Talks

Saturday Contemplation - Claiming the Life That's Yours

Zach Ancell

This week’s Saturday Contemplation turns toward the stories we inherit (from others and ourselves). The ones we pick up early, absorb quietly, and sometimes mistake for who we actually are. It invites you to notice what in your life feels genuinely yours, what feels borrowed, and what becomes possible when you begin setting down the stories that no longer fit.

Saturday Contemplations are a simple way to pause, reconnect, and reflect on the parts of life we often rush past. They won’t appear every single week, but they’ll show up regularly alongside the podcast. And if you’d like to support the project, you can do that through the donation link below. Every bit helps keep this work going.

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About When We Die Talks: When We Die Talks is a podcast built around anonymous conversations about death, loss, and how contemplating mortality shapes the way we live. If you’re new here, start with the Episode Guide. It’s designed to help you find conversations that match where you’re at—curiosity, grief, hesitation, or openness.

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SPEAKER_00:

Welcome back or welcome here if this is your first time. Wherever you're listening from, I'm glad you're here. Before we get into anything, just take a second to arrive. Let your shoulders drop, let your jaw unclench, let your breath move in and out naturally. Today might be busy, quiet, stressful, or somewhere in between. But for the next few minutes, this is just time for you. Let's slow down together. This week's theme is about claiming the life that's actually yours. Which has had me thinking a lot about where some of my own identity even came from. One of the first stories I ever remember telling myself was that I was different because I had glasses. I was five, and somehow I already believed that different meant something I needed to hide or manage. Which, as you can imagine, is really hard to do when the thing you're trying to hide is right in the middle of your face. I don't even know where that story came from, maybe TV, maybe other kids, maybe just human nature. But it's stuck. And versions of that story have manifested in various ways for decades. It's strange how early those things take hold. You don't choose them, you just pick them up and then live as if they're true. But the moment you realize, wait, this isn't mine, something changes. Not instantly, not dramatically, but enough that you start wondering what else you've been carrying that never actually belonged to you. That's a lot of what the last few years have been like for me. Noticing the stories I inherited, the expectations I absorbed, the baggage that I didn't even realize I was hauling around, and realizing I actually get to set some of it down. So that's what I want to explore today, with curiosity, not judgment. What's yours? And what isn't? And what would it feel like to move through the world with a little less of what was handed to you? Let's try that together. We'll start with a deep breath in and let it out. Again, in and out. Let your body soften a little. Let your face relax. Feel whatever is beneath you supporting your weight. You don't have to fix anything right now. You're just here, breathing. Now gently bring to mind your life as it is today. Not the ideal version, just the real one. The roles you play, the way you move through the world, the way you see yourself. As you sit here, notice which parts that feel genuinely like you, and which parts feel borrowed. Think about some of the stories you've picked up along the way. Stories about what you're allowed to want. Stories about how you're supposed to look. Stories about what success means. Stories about what good or wealthy looks like. You may not see all of them clearly, and that's okay. Just notice what comes to the surface. Is there a story you've been living by that doesn't quite fit anymore? A standard you keep trying to meet that never feels like it was made for you? A version of yourself you've been performing because it seems safer than being honest? You don't have to answer it perfectly. Just notice what shows up. Breathe in. And out. Now, see if you can also notice the opposite. The places in your life that do feel like they're yours. Maybe it's the way you show up for a friend. Maybe it's a creative thing you do just because you love it. Maybe it's a small decision you made recently that just felt right, even if no one else understood it. Let those moments come to mind. Feel what it's like in your body when you imagine living more from that place. More honest, more grounded, more like yourself. Claiming the life that's yours doesn't have to mean burning everything down. Sometimes it just means putting one piece of baggage down at a time. So as you sit here, ask yourself: if I could set down one story I've been carrying, what might it be? You don't have to act on it today. Just see if you can name it quietly inside of yourself. Breathe into that. And then ask: if I could lean slightly more towards the life that feels like mine, what would one small step look like? Not a grand declaration, just a tiny shift. A conversation, a boundary, a choice that lines up with who you really are. Let all of this be an invitation, not a demand. You're not behind, you're not late, you're just noticing, maybe more clearly than ever before. Take a slow, deep breath in, and release. Let that be enough for now. And as this contemplation comes to a close, let yourself settle back into the space around you. The sounds, the light, the way your body feels right now. Just noticing the simple fact of being here, alive, in this moment. That's why we do this. To remember that our lives aren't fixed, and that the stories we've carried aren't the whole truth of who we are. Thank you for listening and for being a part of this practice. Saturday contemplations are a weekly way to pause, to sit with the reality of death, and to notice how it changes the way we live. Until next time, have a good life.