Resisting the drift into numbness
The Drift Toward Sleep
It is frighteningly easy to drift through life half-asleep. The routines repeat, the errands pile up, the screens glow. Days slide into weeks, weeks into years, and we look back wondering where they went.
Autopilot is efficient — but it is also deadly to the soul. Numbness can carry us through tasks, but it cannot help us savor existence.
To live awake is to resist the drift. It is to say no to the anesthetic of familiarity, and yes to the shock of clarity.
The Shock of Mortality
Mortality is what shakes us awake. The knowledge that this could all end — today, tomorrow, any time — is what pierces the fog.
It’s why near-death experiences often transform people. It’s why the gravestone reminds us more powerfully than the calendar ever could.
The Roman poet Horace said: “…every day that fortune grants you, count as gain.” To live awake is to count the gain while we have it — before the ledger closes.
Clarity as Courage
Living awake takes courage. It is easier to hide in distractions, to drown in noise, to binge away the awareness of mortality.
But courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it looks like silence — putting down the phone, stepping outside, feeling the breeze, admitting to yourself: This is my life. This is my one chance.
As Simone de Beauvoir wrote of love, so it is of life: it is the mutual recognition of freedom. To live awake is to recognize our own freedom, and to bear the responsibility it carries.
Stopped at a Light
Picture someone at a red light, eyes glazed, scrolling their phone. Then they look up. A child is crossing the street with a balloon. The wind blows. For a moment, they actually see. They exhale.
It is the smallest shift — but it is everything. For a breath, they are awake.
Against the Autopilot
Autopilot whispers that life is endless — that we can put off living until later. But there is no later guaranteed.
To live awake is to look mortality in the eye and let it sharpen the day. It is to resist the lie that errands are the whole of existence. It is to insist: this moment matters.
Wonder as Proof
And wonder is the proof of wakefulness. When we notice beauty — in music, in nature, in another’s eyes — it is evidence that we are not asleep.
We may still grieve, still struggle, still despair at times. But when wonder pierces through, it is the sign that our soul is alive and paying attention.
Practical Reflections
- Interrupt autopilot. Choose one daily routine and actually notice it: the water on your hands, the face of the cashier, the smell of dinner.
- Use mortality as alarm clock. Remember: this day is gain. Let that shape how you spend it.
- Seek wonder. Let beauty be a daily practice, not a rare accident.
- Guard against numbing. Screens, substances, busyness — they lull us. Choose clarity instead.
Closing Thought
To live awake is not to live without pain. It is to live with clarity. To know that this fleeting chance is ours, and to feel it while we can.
Numbness is tempting. Autopilot is easy. But they steal the very thing we long for: a life that feels real, vivid, savorable.
So let us resist the drift. Let us stay awake. Because in wakefulness, we find not only the truth of mortality, but the beauty of being alive.
