Waking Up to Our Lives
There are moments that pierce the veil of our routines. A single conversation, a subtle shift in the light, a season’s change—all can pull us back into the vivid experience of being alive. These moments may be quiet, but they are powerful. They are invitations to awaken.
To awaken is not just to notice the world around us. It is to feel life moving through us again, to shed the dull armor of autopilot and live with presence. Awakening is a return—a return to clarity, to courage, to connection. And though it can feel poetic, even mystical, it is also deeply practical. In the noise of modern life, awakening is both a gift and a skill we can cultivate.
In our current culture, numbness is a common survival strategy. We scroll past suffering, silence our intuition, and stay busy enough to keep discomfort at bay. We trade vitality for productivity. But this disconnection has consequences: increasing rates of anxiety and depression, declining attention spans, shallow relationships, and a deep spiritual fatigue. In many ways, our greatest struggle today is not just stress or burnout—it’s forgetting what it feels like to be fully here.
That’s where awakening becomes not just beautiful, but essential.
The process of waking up often begins with discomfort. Something no longer fits. We feel a tug, an inner restlessness, a yearning for something more true. It’s a signal—gentle or jarring—that the soul wants our attention. And while the mind may resist or rationalize, the body remembers. The body holds the truth of our lives, even when we’ve stopped listening.
Research shows that practices which foster presence—like mindfulness meditation, body scans, or even daily walks—can measurably shift how we think and feel. These practices quiet the brain’s default mode network, which is responsible for mental chatter and rumination, and instead activate pathways linked to empathy, decision-making, and emotional resilience. In other words, the more we awaken, the more we heal.
Inner work is the scaffolding for this awakening. It gives us the tools to notice our patterns, to challenge inherited beliefs, and to step more fully into alignment. It is not a linear path. Often, the deeper we go, the more we uncover—but each layer brings us closer to our aliveness.
Awakening can take many forms. It might look like standing up for ourselves for the first time. Leaving a job that no longer fits. Starting a creative project we’ve long postponed. Or simply saying “I don’t know, but I’m ready to listen.” Each act of awakening invites us to choose curiosity over complacency, and presence over performance.
April, with its blooming branches and soft rains, is nature’s reminder that awakening is both natural and necessary. What has been dormant within you? What are you ready to water?
This season, try slowing down enough to notice what wants to stir in you. You don’t need to have the whole map—just the willingness to begin.
Reflective Questions
Where in your life are you being called to awaken?
What have you been avoiding or numbing?
What might emerge if you turned toward it with honesty and compassion?
What does “being fully alive” mean to you right now?
Practice for April
A Journal Prompt for Awakening
Set aside 10–15 minutes in a quiet space. Begin with a few slow, mindful breaths. When you feel grounded, write freely in response to the following prompt. Let the words come without judgment.
“What in my life is asking me to wake up?”
If you’d like to deepen the practice, close your journal and go outside. Walk slowly. Pay attention to what’s blooming around you—and within you.