Jodi Wellman is a speaker, author, and facilitator focused on helping people live lives they won’t regret. She is the founder of Four Thousand Mondays, a company dedicated to helping individuals make the most of the time they have left on this planet, rooted in the concept that we have around 4,000 weeks to live.
Jodi holds a Master’s in Applied Positive Psychology from the University of Pennsylvania, where she also serves as an Assistant Instructor and facilitates resilience training as part of the Penn Resilience Program. In addition to her academic expertise, Jodi is a certified coach through the ICF and the Co-Active Training Institute, where she helps clients maximize their potential.
Her TEDx talk, “How Death Can Bring You Back to Life,” has garnered over 1.3 million views, ranking as one of the top TEDx talks of 2022. In May 2024, her book, You Only Die Once: How to Make It to the End with No Regrets, was published by Voracious (Little, Brown & Company) in the US and John Murray in the UK, offering a fresh perspective on living fully while embracing the reality of death.
1) Some of the value folks like you and me provide is simply illuminating a habituated routine. In a world where so many people are unintentionally and unknowingly on autopilot, what are some strategies to begin awakening their awareness and start living more deliberately?
Your question is interesting to me because there’s a level of self-awareness involved—are we even aware when we’re on autopilot? That’s the tricky thing; it’s so sneaky that we might go months before suddenly realizing, “My gosh, I’ve been sleepwalking through life.” Often, we only notice long after the fact.
The first step is noticing if you’re defensive about your routines. Sometimes, I ask a group, “What if you shook up your routine this Saturday morning?” And some people will respond, “But if I don’t go to the grocery store at 8 a.m., then my whole day is off.”
I’m not here to ruin anyone’s life; that would be ironic since my work is about making the most out of life. The idea is to recognize if you feel defensive when someone suggests introducing a little novelty. We know novelty is important for psychological vitality, staying motivated, and feeling alive. If a small change makes you uncomfortable, that might be your first clue.
Another strategy is to reflect on the last 30 days of your life: how much of it was spent on autopilot? Research shows we’re generally good at assessing our own life satisfaction. If you look back and think, “Wow, last week was a blur,” that’s a signal. It’s about becoming aware of how much of your life is being lived as a highly functioning zombie.
Some people might acknowledge, “Yeah, I’m a zombie, and I want to fix it,” while others might say, “You may call it a zombie, but I call it having control, and I don’t want to change it.” And that’s fine—you’re the boss of your life. But I’d encourage you to poke around the edges and consider if there’s a way to introduce a little novelty. It doesn’t have to be drastic; it could be as simple as going to a different brunch spot on Sunday. Who knows, you might discover the best French toast in town.
It’s about recognizing that we all have different needs for routine, comfort, and control. And then trying one small thing to mix it up.
Another example is at work. Let’s say you’re leading a team and doing the same Monday 10 a.m. check-ins with the same agenda. It might feel efficient, but sometimes efficiency is a warning sign that life’s edges are getting dull. Maybe your team needs a shake-up—what if, instead of the Monday meeting, you had a Friday wrap-up where everyone shares their mistakes for the week or something they’re proud of? You could go back to the routine after that, but the shake-up provides a fresh perspective that makes the routine more enjoyable.
We also need to ask ourselves, “Am I just going through the motions to keep the chaos at bay, or could there be more?” Not in an “I’m never happy” kind of way, but in a way that challenges us to ask if we’re living with vitality and meaning. The answer might be no, but if you feel defensive about that question, you’ve likely hit on something important.
For most of us, if we ask ourselves honestly, we’ll see that while our routines may work, adding a little novelty could help us feel more alive. It doesn’t have to be exhausting—just small, intentional changes to shake things up.
2) The idea of “living without regret” is central to your work. What do you think are the most common regrets people face, and how can we proactively prevent these from becoming a reality in our own lives?
I love regret research, especially the empirical kind. Anecdotal stuff is important, too, but I really appreciate the evidence because it’s so clear: most people admit they regret the things they didn’t do rather than the things they did. Oscar Wilde was right with his famous quote, and research supports this idea on a pretty large scale. We tend to get over the regrets of commission—things we did—but the regrets of omission, the things we didn’t do, tend to stick with us.
We all do dumb things and regret them, but we should forgive ourselves because they won’t matter on our deathbed. What gives us the most trouble is wondering, “What could my life have been if I had done XYZ?” What if I had applied for that big job, or moved to North Carolina, or taken that leap? That kind of regret lingers and often leads to anxiety about missed opportunities.
So, how do we get ahead of it? I suggest a simple exercise: imagine that tonight is the night—what’s one thing you’d feel even the smallest bit of regret for not doing? Regret researchers like Dan Pink categorize regrets into different types, and I find that helpful because it provides a framework to understand where our regrets might fall.
The research is clear: people regret things related to family or spouses the most. After that, regrets about education—either not pursuing it or not trying harder—often come up. Career regrets follow, then health regrets. There’s also an interesting category of regrets about boldness. I think this resonates with me right now in my career—I regret not being bolder in my choices, and not taking bigger risks.
Another category is connection regrets. People regret not staying connected with friends or not making up with a sibling—things that relate to relationships. Then there are foundational regrets, like wishing we had done the groundwork—maybe we wish we’d built a stronger educational foundation, or worked harder when starting a business. These regrets are more about stability. Lastly, there’s the category of moral regrets, where people wish they had done the right thing, whether it’s something they did or didn’t do.
A lot of these boil down to people wishing they had gone for it—whether it’s running a marathon, starting that Etsy shop, or changing careers to do something totally different. But the good news is, we’re still alive. We can still make the choices to live the life we truly want, if we’re brave enough to go for it.
3) In The Fun Habit, I confess that I was encouraged to put my chapter on death at the end because “no one buys a book on fun to hear about death.” You blend humor and death so well in your writing. How do you manage to tackle something as heavy as mortality in a way that feels both lighthearted and inspiring, without diminishing death’s seriousness?
I’m super conscious that I’ve chosen a topic that’s the ultimate turn-off. So, I’m aware there’s a real risk some people might find it unappetizing. Most of us are built to deny the inevitable, so my job—almost ironically—is to wake people up while we’re still alive. The only way I’ve found to make people feel a little less like running (or maybe more like speed-walking) out of the room is by being irreverent and trying to make it funny. I’ll do things like doodling the Grim Reaper or making light of death in small, digestible ways.
There’s a fine line here, of course. I don’t want it to feel like it’s all caricature; I care deeply about the research and seriousness behind it. Sometimes, I hit the mark, and sometimes I might miss it, but I’d rather warm people up with humor and fun so that they feel like they can come to the party. Then, while we’re at the party having a good time, I can say, “Hey, want to contemplate death for just a sec before we move on to the next game?” It’s about creating the right environment to capture that reflection, and levity can be a great tool for that.
(Mike Rucker: Absolutely. And even the logo on your website, with the shrinking moon, it’s not just thrown out there—it’s intentional and makes it so engaging.)
Thanks! As someone who appreciates fun, you get it. There’s ultimate gravity to mortality, but I approach it with an absurdist lens, like: “Are you for real? We’re all trying so hard to live our best lives … and then we die?!” It’s crazy. I want us to bond over how bonkers that is and link arms to accept it. But instead of letting it depress us, let’s have fun with it. I’m not trying to diminish anyone’s depression or anxiety, but lightheartedness can help us engage with the topic more openly.
That said, I also acknowledge that some people won’t be willing to go there. But my goal is to make it more palatable with a bit of silliness, so people feel comfortable engaging with it. And, by creating a sense of temporal scarcity, we generate awareness that our lives are a “limited-time-only” situation. That momentary discomfort—realizing, “How am I going to fit in all these things I long to do?”—might soften with the acceptance that I won’t get to do everything. I’m not going to visit all those countries, learn all those languages, or write all those books. And that’s okay. What matters is if I really want to live on purpose, in a meaningful way, I need to prioritize what’s truly important.
Hopefully, this prioritization ignites a pull toward those meaningful things. I see this in people who’ve had brushes with death. They come out of remission from a brutal diagnosis with crystal clarity. There’s no longer any question. They know exactly how they want to spend their time, even though their time is limited—and might be more limited than yours or mine due to their health history. They emerge with this sense that they’re no longer going to waste time on things that don’t matter. Instead, they focus on the things that truly count, and that level of clarity is incredibly powerful.
4) We have a shared passion for encouraging people to make the most of their time. However, there is certainly something to be said about preserving time for renewal, as well. How do you personally balance the desire to seize every moment with the need for rest and reflection?
I get where you’re coming from. People often think that folks like you and me are saying life has to be “amazing fireworks!”—like it needs to be this extravagant, showy life that’s ready for social media or something.
It’s as though life has to be “Carpe Diem” to the point where there’s no room for rest. But let me clarify—being “astonishingly alive” is totally relative. A friend once took me to task because I often talk about living a “squander-free” life. She said, “Sometimes I want to squander!” And I thought, wait a sec—we’re talking about a definition issue here, not a philosophical one.
For example, some people might naturally prefer a quieter existence. That might look like a Friday night spent cozy at home. To them, that’s their version of living astonishingly alive. Maybe it includes a great glass of wine and a fantastic book, and they feel alive doing that. Meanwhile, someone else might think that’s the staidest Friday night ever. They’d prefer to be out at a concert or the latest tasting menu. We all have preferences, and that’s okay.
So when my friend said she wanted to squander time, I asked her to define what she meant. She said she wants to spend Saturdays watching Netflix and eating great food, and honestly, that sounds good to me, too. I told her, “That’s not squandering—it’s part of your recipe for a well-lived life.” Squandering, in my mind, is when you let time pass without being intentional about it. It’s when you look back and realize, “Wow, September went by, and I didn’t plug into anything.” But when you choose to have a day of rest—whether a bubble bath or a nap—that’s still part of living well.
How often you do that depends on your personality and preferences. It’s about finding what fits you. A really good life has pauses. No one sustains an “all-out, balls-to-the-wall” life without stopping for a breather. The most well-lived lives include moments for rejuvenation and reflection.
5) You emphasize small, actionable changes over drastic life overhauls. Can you share an example of a small, manageable shift that has profoundly impacted your life and/or someone you’ve worked with?
I admit that I talk a lot about small, manageable things. I call them the “cheap and cheerful stuff”—the simple, everyday things. I’m conscious that I might even be overemphasizing it because I want to avoid making the “astonishingly alive” life sound like it requires a huge, flashy vacation or a master’s program. We know from research that so much of our joy comes from the day-to-day stuff.
Those tiny experiences add up to become your day, your week, and ultimately your life. So, I’ll always be a proponent of not underestimating the small stuff. But I also want to be clear: if someone feels compelled to do something bold or grand, like making a cross-country move or leaving a relationship, I’d never want to cut them off at the knees. If that’s what’s calling to you, don’t ignore it.
That said, for most of us, a small shift can make a big difference. I’ll share an example from my own life. I’m a fan of rituals, though I’ll admit they are essentially habits. I just like calling them rituals to make them sound special! One of my rituals is going for a walk with my husband before and after work. It’s about 30 minutes each time—free and pretty manageable. I’ll be honest: I’m not even someone who loves the outdoors, but this simple act of walking grounds me. It’s restorative, and it’s become a daily connection point.
When one of us is traveling, I miss the ritual. It’s a small thing, but it’s life-affirming and energizing. And I know other people who’ve discovered similar little joys. I always encourage people to record the things that light them up, even if they can’t explain why. Maybe it’s trying a new recipe or doing something creative. You don’t have to justify it—just do more of it.
I also think it’s important to have a list of these things handy. We all love those unexpected pockets of free time—like when a meeting gets canceled, and you suddenly have an hour to yourself. What will you do with that time? Instead of answering emails, pull out your list of things that make you feel alive. Maybe you’ll decide to go outside, put on a podcast, and watch birds. Whatever it is, make it count, and savor it.