Practicing Presence I - Overview

“I looked at the hills, at the dewy grass, and then up through the elm branches to the sky. In a moment all that was behind me, the house, the people, the sounds, seemed to disappear, and to leave me alone. Involuntarily I drew a long breath, then I breathed slowly. My thought, or inner consciousness, went up through the illumined sky, and I was lost in a moment of exaltation.”

~Richard Jefferies, The Story of My Heart , pp. 101-102.

I have a peripatetic mind. That is a kind, or perhaps a euphemistic, way of saying that I seldom am able to stay focused on one thing for long. My mind and attention flits from this to that. I wander. Sometimes I can’t finish a great book because I have another great book that pulls my attention away. (The many partially finished books strewn about my house are testimony to a nomadic, or perhaps just eccentric, perhaps (no doubt) an undisciplined mind. These volumes have drawn the attention of my more-organized wife from time to time.) At work, I need a real deadline, or I’ll start this and then pursue that. I am so interested in so much, which is a curse and a blessing.

A good book will keep me absorbed, so will a good movie or a great conversation. Walking, when I’m not thinking about the last mistake I made or the one I might make later in the day or the next idea that comes to mind or the problem I can’t seem to solve, can be immersive, as I observe nature all about me. The other day I missed most of a walk with Tinkerbell and Shelby, two pups who think about little more than food and squirrels most days, because I couldn’t stop regretting a foolish remark I had made the day before. (Please see Unforced Errors.)

All of this exposition is to set up my need, and perhaps something you might want, to spend more time in the “present moment”. Because I have spent so much time in the past and in the future, discovering ways to be present, to fully participate in “now”, has become important personally but also professionally. Deep presence can be a profound experience. Living presently contributes to living profoundly.

As I tend to do, when I want to learn something I need a deadline, something to shoot for. I also know that the teacher learns as much or more than the learners, so I decided to put together a workshop. The topic of the workshop was “silence” but as I learned more about thought more it morphed into a workshop about finding ways to be more present.

The Present Moment figure emerged as the workshop – taught over four sessions for the Garden City Public Library ( "Not A Quiet Library" ) - was developed and taught. It is not anything intellectually important or unique and I’m sure it’s missing plenty. It was just my attempt to create a way of organizing ways of thinking about and practicing presence.

Over the next few weeks I’ll write about each of the four quadrants of the model, think a bit about what being present is, what it feels and looks like, and practices – contemplative, time in nature, engaging with others, and other disciplines which lead toward the richness of the present moment.

For now, let’s finish with Richard Jefferies, who writes with such beauty throughout The Story Of My Heart.

“Full to the brim of the wondrous past, I felt the wonderous present. For the day—the very moment I breathed, that second of time then in the valley, was as marvelous, as grand, as all that had gone before. Now, this moment was the wonder and the glory. Now, this moment was exceedingly wonderful. Now, this moment give me all the thought, all the idea, all the soul expressed in the cosmos around me” (p. 46)

References:

Jefferies, R. (2014). The story of my heart: as rediscovered by terry tempest Williams and Brooke Williams . Salt Lake City, UT, Torrey House Press.