This is Dispatch #11 in a series from the Human Aliveness Lab — raw, personal reflections exploring what it really means to feel alive. You can read the whole series here.
Hi friends,
There’s a term in psychology called selective attention — the idea that once something matters to you, your brain starts noticing it everywhere. You don’t passively receive information; you begin scanning the world for what resonates.
That’s what’s been happening to me with aliveness.
A few weeks ago, Oliver Burkeman — one of my favorite nonfiction writers and thinkers — sent a newsletter titled “Navigating by aliveness.” When I saw it in my inbox, I nearly jumped out of my seat.
“The concept that sits right at the heart of a sane and meaningful life, I’m increasingly convinced, is something like aliveness,” he wrote. “I’m pretty sure it’s what Joseph Campbell meant when he said that most of us aren’t really seeking the meaning of life, but rather ‘an experience of being alive… so that we actually feel the rapture.’”
(I reached out to him afterward and we ended up having a lovely conversation. It’s rare — but deeply encouraging — when your heroes turn out to be everything you hoped they’d be.)
Since then, I’ve been seeing the word — and theme — of aliveness everywhere. It’s in the psychology of Maslow’s peak experiences and Csikszentmihalyi’s research on flow. It’s at the heart of Christian Dillo’s The Path of Aliveness, Corey Keyes’s Languishing, and even Catherine Price’s The Power of Fun. It’s woven into novels and Substack publications, into fantasy stories and philosophy books.
It seems like everyone is circling around the same question: What does it really mean to feel awake in your life?
And yet strangely, almost no one defines it.
(If you’re new here: the Human Aliveness Lab is a project I co-founded to explore exactly this — what it means to feel fully alive, and how we can bring more of it into our everyday lives.)
That’s one reason we’ve been trying to do exactly that at the Lab. And we’ve been having some spirited conversations. What does aliveness feel like in the body? Is it always positive, or can it include pain? Is it just a fleeting state — like a moment of awe or flow — or can it also be a way of being?
The more we try and nail it down, the clearer it becomes that aliveness resists simple definition. And yet, most of us intuitively know what it means to feel alive.
One thing we do know: aliveness is deeply personal. It won’t look the same for everyone. Still, there are patterns — connection, awe, a sense of growth, and the pursuit of what feels meaningful. For some, that’s quiet. For others, it’s intense. What makes you feel alive might be very different than what makes me come alive — and that’s exactly the point.
You might feel alive when you’re lost in a creative project. Or when you’re watching your child take in the world with fresh eyes. Or out on the trail, the water, or in the garden — moving your body, doing something you love. Maybe in a spirited conversation that leaves you more awake than when you started.
For me, aliveness shows up when I’m deep in writing flow. Or upside down in a handstand on a cloudless day. Or in a jiu-jitsu final, heart pounding as I face someone who’s beaten me before.
But I also feel alive in moments of fear — when I’ve gone all in on a dream, knowing there’s no backup plan. Or in the heavy, hollow spaces of grief. I feel it when I fail, get rejected, or say yes to a challenge that feels a little too far beyond what I can handle.
Aliveness lives in all of that.
Aliveness isn’t about feeling good. It’s about feeling fully. It’s intensity, emotion, presence, connection, and meaning. It’s the willingness to be here — with your whole self — even when it’s hard. A sense of being fully engaged with life.
Some people hesitate to define aliveness at all — as if naming it might strip it of its magic. But I think it’s worth trying. If we want to move toward something, we need at least a rough idea of what we’re seeking. Otherwise, it’s too easy to default to numbness or distraction and tell ourselves this is just how life is.
And unlike so much of what we’re told to strive for — productivity, happiness, perfection — aliveness isn’t something you can hack or optimize. There’s no shortcut. No “three-step plan.” But you can start by paying attention — and choosing, again and again, to follow what makes you feel most alive.
So here’s the question I’ve been sitting with — and maybe you will too: What makes you feel alive?
Not just happy. Not just successful. But present. Awake. Engaged in your one brief life.
I’d love to hear what comes up for you.