EXISTING VERSUS LIVING
Most people know the difference between breathing and breathing deeply. One happens on its own. The other asks for your attention. In the same way, there’s a difference between existing and living. Noticing which one you’re doing is the first step toward choosing on purpose.
Existing isn’t wrong. It’s a place many of us land because we have to. We wake up, move through our routines, meet our duties, and go to sleep. Then the cycle starts again. There’s no bad intent in it. When life feels like too much, the mind often shifts into autopilot. Fatigue, grief, stress, and endless repetition can push us there.
In some seasons, existing even protects you. It helps you get through the day. Still, it can also create distance. You might feel as if you’re watching your own life through glass.
Living is different, but it doesn’t have to be loud. It isn’t about grand gestures. Instead, it’s about being present. It’s about choosing with care, even in small ways. It also means letting yourself feel what’s here, rather than rushing past it.
Picture a man holding his morning coffee. He notices the warmth of the cup. He sees the light in the room. He takes in the quiet. In that simple pause, he’s with his life.
Now picture a woman facing a hard conversation. She could avoid it. That would be easier. Yet she chooses honesty because she values the relationship more than comfort. In that choice, she shows up.
That’s where living often happens, in small moments of awareness and small acts of courage.
Think of two people driving to work. The first arrives and can’t recall the trip. Their mind was elsewhere, stuck on a meeting, replaying an old hurt, or simply shut down. The second notices the pale autumn light across the fields. They feel a brief wave of gratitude. Then they switch the radio to something that lifts their mood. It’s the same drive. Yet it’s a different experience of being alive.
So how can you tell whether you’re living or only existing? Look for patterns that repeat.
First, track your sense of time. When you’re only existing, days blur together. Memories thin out. When you’re living, time feels wider because you’re inside it. When was the last time you lost track of time because you were fully absorbed?
Next, notice how you make decisions. Existing often leads to default choices. You do what’s expected. You pick what’s easiest. You avoid conflict when you can. Living asks for choices that match what matters to you, even if they’re small. When was the last time you chose something because you wanted it, not just because you had to?
Also, pay attention to your emotional range. Existing can flatten you. It’s not always deep sadness. More often, it’s a dull middle where little touches you. Joy feels distant, and so does grief. Living brings feeling back. Beauty moves you. Injustice upsets you. A small kindness can make you tear up. You don’t feel more pain on purpose, you just stop shutting the door on your own heart.
Curiosity offers another clue. Existing asks few questions. Living stays curious about people, ideas, and your own inner world. When was the last time something surprised you?
Finally, look at your relationship with newness. Someone who eats the same lunch every day for years isn’t necessarily unhappy. Still, that habit can signal autopilot in other areas, too. A small change can interrupt the drift. Try a different food. Take a new route. Ask a new question. These tiny choices can bring you back to yourself.
This isn’t about guilt. Many people spend long stretches existing, and sometimes that’s what survival requires. If you’re in a hard season, getting through the day can be its own kind of courage. Yet awareness can change the equation. The moment you realize you’ve been elsewhere, you can return.
Here’s the principle to hold onto: the gap between existing and living doesn’t close through grand gestures. It closes through steady attention, through noticing, and through coming back to the life that’s already yours, waiting for you to choose it.
