I’ve been thinking about what it means to be alive, in a way that goes beyond simply existing or functioning well.
Most of us move through our lives competently. We do what’s expected, we make decisions, we keep things going. And often, that’s enough. But I keep noticing something quieter beneath it: how easy it is to live on momentum rather than presence—guided by habits, assumptions, and thoughts we’ve never really paused to examine.
That isn’t a criticism. It’s a human default. Efficiency matters. Belonging matters. Questioning everything all the time would be exhausting.
And still, I wonder what gets lost.
There’s a difference between a life that is managed and a life that is inhabited. Between reacting from pattern and responding from awareness. Between thinking a thought and noticing that you’re thinking it.
When I talk about “choosing life,” I don’t mean dramatic reinvention or permanent clarity. I mean something smaller and more repeatable: moments of arrival. Brief pauses where we notice what we’re assuming, what we’re avoiding, what we’re doing on autopilot—and gently decide whether to continue.
This isn’t about being better, wiser, or more enlightened. It’s about participation. About showing up to our own experience with enough honesty to be present, and enough humility to remain curious.
When we do that, even imperfectly, something shifts. Our decisions become less reflexive. Our conversations become less performative. We become a little more available - to ourselves and to one another.
I don’t have a conclusion or a prescription here. Just a question I keep returning to: Where in my life am I alive, but not fully here?
Not as an accusation. As an invitation.
The Poem:
Most of us are alive
without being here.
We move on habit,
on borrowed thoughts,
on ideas we’ve never held up to the light.
It works.
But it isn’t life.
Being human asks for participation.
Not answers.
Presence.
To notice the thought
before you obey it.
To arrive
instead of performing arrival.
This isn’t a failure.
It’s a default.
But defaults can still cost a life.
I’m not asking you to be better.
Only to be here.
Choose life.
Not once.
Again.