It is often said that before you die your life passes before your

“It is often said that before you die your life passes before your eyes. It is in fact true. It’s called living.” – Terry Pratchett

In this gleaming fragment of wit and wisdom, Terry Pratchett, the great weaver of worlds and chronicler of human folly, distills the essence of existence into a single, breathtaking revelation. His words shimmer with paradox: what many fear as a final moment — the vision of one’s life flashing before their eyes — is not a rare, death-bound miracle, but the continuous miracle of life itself. To live, says Pratchett, is already to witness your own story unfolding before you, day by day, heartbeat by heartbeat. The vision of your life is not reserved for your final breath; it is the panorama you walk through every moment you draw breath.

In the manner of the ancients, one might say that Pratchett speaks with the voice of the philosopher disguised as the fool — for it is through humor that he unveils the deepest truths. His jest conceals a sacred teaching: that awareness is the true measure of living. Most people drift through existence as though blind, mistaking routine for reality and distraction for experience. Yet the wise know that to truly live is to see — to bear witness to the unfolding of one’s days with open eyes and open heart. Life is not a rehearsal for the afterlife; it is the very vision of creation in motion.

Pratchett, who wrote with laughter even in the face of death, understood this truth intimately. In his final years, as he battled the slow darkness of illness, he continued to write, to imagine, to laugh. He was living proof that life’s vision is not a flicker before extinction, but an ongoing act of consciousness — a flame that burns bright even as the shadows lengthen. His humor was not denial; it was defiance — the laughter of one who had gazed into mortality and chosen to keep his eyes open. To him, every moment — even the painful ones — was part of that vast, vivid film of life playing before his mind.

The ancients, too, spoke of this idea, though in different tongues. The Stoics taught that to live well is to die daily — not in despair, but in awareness, for each moment passed is a small death and a small resurrection. The Buddhists spoke of mindfulness, the sacred art of seeing the present as it truly is. Pratchett, through the language of humor, joins their ranks. His words remind us that if life flashes before our eyes at the end, it is only because it has been flashing all along — we simply forgot to look. To live, then, is to awaken to the film already in progress, to stop waiting for the ending to make sense of the beginning.

Consider the story of Anne Frank, who, confined in darkness and fear, still wrote with a luminous spirit. “I don’t think of all the misery,” she said, “but of the beauty that still remains.” Though her days were numbered, her gaze was infinite. In her small attic, she saw her life unfolding before her — not as a tragedy, but as a living miracle. Her awareness, like Pratchett’s, transcended circumstance. Both understood that the act of seeing one’s life, with all its sorrow and splendor, as it happens, is the closest thing to eternity we will ever touch.

The lesson is this: do not wait for the final moment to see your life — see it now. Do not sleepwalk through your days, thinking that meaning will come later, or that your story will only reveal itself in retrospect. Every breath is a page written, every encounter a scene unfolding. To live with awareness is to watch your life pass before your eyes not in a single instant, but in the sacred continuity of time. Look around you — the people you love, the work you do, the sky at dawn — these are your visions of life. They are not the prelude to death; they are the heart of living.

So, live as one who knows that life itself is the vision — the great reel of memory and motion that began at your first cry and will end with your last sigh. Pay attention to it. Taste your food, listen to the wind, laugh until your ribs ache, and weep when your heart demands it. Do not let the film of your existence play unnoticed. For as Pratchett reminds us with a wink and a whisper, the story of your life is already passing before your eyes — and the name of that story is living.