How To Be Present
Why is presence important?
This is probably a sensible place to start. Before figuring out how to be present, it might be useful to establish whether this is worth figuring out in the first place. Some people think it is. But I need to think so too if I’m going to write this.
We’re given one life (as far as I’m aware). Even if we get more than one, the fact that most people can’t recall previous ones suggests that this is the one worth focusing on (at least for the purpose of this exercise.)
It’s a privilege to be here.
The odds are slim. Actually, they’re negligible. Speck of dust in the universe. The evolution of life. Biology. Science. Physics. GOD. It’s extraordinary.
You have been given (this) life. It is your responsibility to live it alive. Presence, I believe, is how we honour this gift.
You might argue that facilitating the presence of others, without first addressing your own, is a virtuous act that sufficiently honours the gift of life. But although you didn’t ask for it[1], this is your gift and as its recipient, you alone are responsible for, and have the ability to, honour it. No one can do this for you. Facilitating the presence of others doesn’t absolve you from your own duty, nor is this “charitable” endeavour particularly effective if you yourself aren’t present.
Assumptions: Our biological default is presence; Presence = aliveness.
Before contributing[2] anything to the world, we must first be present. Presence means showing up as ourselves (truth) and participating fully (honouring our gift.) Only then might we contribute meaningfully to the world.
I. The world is real
The first step to achieving presence is to obtain conviction that this is all real. It would be very difficult to contribute anything to a world made of jelly. To do this, we need to define the fundamental rules of the universe, i.e. we need to determine what is concrete (unchanging). Once these are clear, we can confidently use the world as a canvas for our contributions.
We gather evidence about the world to extract information that helps us form a model of the rules that govern it. Identifying these rules enables us to predict how our contributions will be interpreted. Our predictions must be (mostly) accurate, since they form the foundation for our conviction that the world is real - thus confirming that we, too, are real.
If I leave this glass of water on my desk and walk away, I trust that the rules of physics (gravity)[3] guarantee that it’ll still be there when I return. If it’s gone, I wouldn’t assume the laws of physics have suddenly changed. That’s because I have conviction about what the rules of physics are. They have been confirmed to me time and time again, and I trust myself to have understood them. Physics feels concrete to me - I don’t need to expend energy questioning it every time I want to rely on it to support a contribution.
Now, imagine if when I return to my desk, my glass of water is gone. I could reasonably conclude that B moved it. But imagine if I was certain that I understood the rules of B - as certain as I am about the rules of physics. B would never put my glass away. When I return to my desk and find that my glass of water is gone, this would be very disturbing. Not only could I no longer leave a glass of water at my desk unattended and trust that it would remain in place, but I’d have to question both my understanding of the rules of B and the rules of physics. I’d need to rewrite what I believe is concrete, and in the meantime, simulate all possible outcomes of contributions that previously relied on those rules. I’d need to step out of the present every time I needed to model a scenario to anticipate the outcome. In other words: the world would feel like jelly.
People are tricky. They aren’t as predictable as physics. When we believe we’ve understood someone’s ruleset with the same conviction we apply to physics, and we’re confronted with evidence that contradicts that belief, it can turn our world upside down. This is because our understanding of the person has been proven to be incorrect - we cannot trust them - and we’re also forced to confront our inability to understand them - we cannot trust ourselves. I think this is why betrayal is so disorientating.
Some people’s rules are less clear than others’. This is often due to a mental health condition, and it’s best to assume this is beyond their control. It’s important to recognise when this is the case, as it can be very unhelpful to group such anomalies with general patterns of human behaviour.
I believe that one way to meaningfully contribute to the world is to ensure that the way others experience us doesn’t reduce their world to jelly. We can do this by operating under a predictable set of rules. By being consistent in how we behave, we provide others with enough evidence to trust that they’ve understood us, reducing their need to expend energy wondering how we might react. I would go so far as to say that it is our duty to provide this clarity, because gathering evidence that the world is real helps others become present.
II. Know who you are
I’m not sure how helpful it is to think about identity in isolation of knowing what you want, but here’s a page from my friend’s yearbook you might enjoy.
I believe that who we are is a moving thing - a dance between how we see ourselves, how others see us, and who we want to be. Some people argue that the opinions of others shouldn’t matter, but I think this is a misguided approach to authenticity[4]. If our contributions to the world serve as confirmation that the world is real, then our identity must (at least partially) be shaped by how others interpret and respond to us.
It’s important to understand how our contributions are perceived so that we may align them with how we intend to come across. If I arrive early to a dinner party and offer to help, but the kitchen is small, if I insist on inserting myself anyway, I’m now in the way. My desire to be helpful isn’t aligned with the actual outcome (being helpful.) This is also the basis of self-awareness.
Understanding how we’re perceived also reinforces the earlier point: conviction that the world is real. When our intended contributions align with how they’re interpreted, we get confirmation that we’re understood and that we exist meaningfully within a shared reality.
I struggle to justify the view that our individual perception of the world is the only thing that matters. That position ignores something fundamental: we’re here together.
III. Know what you want
To be present, it’s important to know what you want. That way, when presented with options (opportunities or temptations), you can evaluate them based on how they do or don’t align.
A helpful filter might be: i/ does this hinder my long-term goals? ii/ does this contribute to them?[5]
For example, if one of your long-term goals is health and someone offers you are a cigarette, knowing that this both hinders and does not contribute to your goal makes the decision to decline straightforward. You don’t have to spend energy weighing it up.
That’s a pretty basic example (health is a fairly universal goal), but it gets more complex as goals become more personal and less universally defensible.
One way to think about goals is to frame them in terms of values. Defining a set of values can help you trust yourself to make aligned choices. Having a template for how to assess options makes decisions easier and increases alignment.
Notice that “knowing what you want” doesn’t refer to a specific professional goal or tangible outcome. Rather, it’s about establishing values that are consistently relevant that guide how you want to live your life. Choosing options that align with who you want to be is what allows you to unfold...to become.
Pursuing less-tangible goals (like wanting to be a reliable person) can put you in a better position to pursue other things you might not yet be clear about. For example, being a reliable person might lead to being trusted with more responsibilities or information at work. Perhaps you didn’t realise that you wanted more responsibility, but because you engaged with the world in a way that aligned with your values, opportunities that fit you naturally emerged. You became more yourself without needing to be explicit about what that actually looks like.[6]
Even if it feels like acting in alignment comes at your expense, that’s rarely the case. If you decide that you value connection, for instance, you can start looking for situations that you frequently encounter where you can promote it. For example, you can decide that when the last piece of cake remains on the plate at the end of the birthday party, rather than taking it for yourself, you’ll use it as an opportunity to breed connection and put it on a plate to give to someone else. You’ll forget how good even the best cake was much sooner than you’ll forget the feeling of connecting with someone. Anticipating the situation ahead of time (last slice of cake) gives you the freedom to act intentionally rather than impulsively, promoting your predetermined goal of connection.
These small decisions compound. They shape the quality of your lived experience. Choose, then, to act on them, trusting deep down that an informed, less impulsive version of you made this aligned decision on your behalf.
Clarity also reduces regret. It’s sometimes hard to stick to your values, but even when there are short-term consequences (e.g. social pressure that leads to alienation), the long-term benefits of taking the aligned path tend to be net positive (at least in my experience).
IV. Trust yourself
Once you’ve established your long-term goals and values, trust that the principles you’ve set align with them. Then surrender to the present.
Updating what you want should be a continuous process, but reflection should be intentional. It’s not something to do passively. The point is to take time to decide carefully what you want, then move forward confidently.
The whole point of establishing values is to allow for presence. Doubt pulls you out of the moment, forcing you to leave the present to simulate implications, options, and outcomes every time you’re faced with them. This is exhausting. And the more often you leave the present, the harder it is to return. Having a clear foundation makes it easier to choose (and stay.)
V. Be present
Live alive.
VI. ...kind of
Small catch. The point is not for everything to be predictable. If that were the case, life would be quite boring. It’s impossible to predict most things, but uncertainty isn’t a flaw in the system. It’s part of how things unfold. Eventually, it’ll make sense, though that’s often harder to see in the moment it’s coming together. But allowing for this uncertainty makes space for something even more worthwhile to take place. What emerges is often better than anything that could’ve been planned or consciously pursued. You might carry a vague sense of what you’re moving toward. How it might feel. But the specifics are rarely clear. Try to force clarity too soon, and you risk missing what’s actually happening.
Perhaps the best preparation is not to plan, but to adopt a posture of deep acceptance. Predictability offers safety, but ambiguity, the not-knowing, fuels curiosity. And curiosity is what gives us a reason to keep going. That’s where we come alive. After all, if everything went according to plan, what would be left to live for?[7]
Notes:
[1] The argument that you didn’t ask to be here is irrelevant. You’re here. Whether or not you consented to being born doesn’t change the reality of your existence. While it’s valid to question the conditions into which you were born, the fact remains: this life is yours. You’re the one living it. That alone makes you responsible for what you do with it.
[2] Contribute = to actualise something in the world as intended i.e. bringing something into the external world that reflects your internal intention. This can be pretty much anything (an action, something physical that you create, etc) It’s about closing the gap between intention and manifestation and confirming through interaction that what you’ve done has landed as you meant it to.
[3] I use physics here as shorthand for the ruleset I believe governs the situation since it’s the most predictable, consistent, and reliable set of rules I can think of. In this case, my trust that the glass of water will remain on the desk is underpinned not just by gravity, but also by object permeance (amongst other things). Importantly, it’s possible to operate under the wrong assumptions for a long time without challenge. When those assumptions are eventually contradicted, we’re forced to revise our internal model and update our understanding of which rules actually apply.
[4] Another way people misunderstand authenticity by equating it with uniform consistency; believing that to be authentic, you must behave the same way in all contexts. But this overlooks the role of psychological safety in shaping expression. For example, I may act differently around my closest friends than I do around someone I’ve just met. That doesn’t make me inauthentic around the new person, it just reflects that the conditions are different. They don’t offer the same safety or familiarity my friends do and they haven’t earned my trust yet. And even if they do, I may still act differently around them (which isn’t a bad thing - they’re a different person!) Acting differently in different settings can still be authentic as long as it’s true to your experience in that moment. People aren’t static, and expecting consistency across the board assumes they should be. This is probably a separate essay in itself (I could really go on about how frustrating this can feel).
[5] Thinking about it, I’ve noticed that things which hinder long-term goals are usually external (distractions, temptations, pressure, noise.) On the other hand, things that contribute to them tend to be self motivated. They require intention, effort and clarity. Contribution demands agency whereas hinderance often just happens unless resisted.
[6] James Clear on identity: “Every action you take is a vote for the person you wish to become. No single instance will transform your beliefs, but as the votes build up, so does the evidence of your identity.”
[7] James Hollis on ambiguity: “An ability to tolerate the anxiety generated by ambiguity is what allows us to respect, engage, and grow from our repeated, daily encounters with the essential mysteries of life. But the payoff goes even further. Certainty begets stagnation, but ambiguity pulls us deeper into life. Unchallenged conviction begets rigidity, which begets regression; but ambiguity opens us to discovery, complexity, and therefore growth. The health of our culture, and the magnitude of our personal journeys, require that we learn to tolerate ambiguity, in service to a larger life.”