Learn The difference between being here and being present. When I was young I thought being here and being present was the same thing. I can't tell you how many times I've been talking to my Grandma and I would lose track of the conversation because I was actually lost in my head or my brain took a right turn somewhere along the way. My grandma would be telling me one of her stories that I knew by heart, and all of a sudden my mind would be on the TV or in the middle of a novel I had been reading the night before. Then all of a sudden I would hear Grandma yelling my name, or yelling are you listening to me, girl, with a handful of my hair as she loosened up my scalp a little bit.
I often now notice my children doing the same thing to me. I will say something crazy if I think they are just letting me rattle on, and sure enough, they will give an affirmative answer to some off the wall question I ask, and I will just have a good laugh about it and then ask what they are doing. Usually scrolling through videos, texting, or playing a video game. I will usually get off the phone, but not always, my daughter feels like we are hanging out, even if we are just on the phone with each other, but each doing other things. It's weird to my GenX brain, but I will do it just so she doesn't feel so alone.
But being truly present is something that, for me, didn't really come naturally. I was raised by my grandparents, who were known as the silent generation. They were taught that children were meant to be seen not heard, especially girls. Women were meant to be responsible for all the household chores and to wait on the men of the family. And if you had any complaints, you would pay for it with a switch to the legs or a belt to the backside. So I learned at an early age to hide my discomfort, to not speak my mind. But even though my body was trapped in this room and forced to be quiet and still, my mind was living adventures of excitement and adventure, and sometimes stewing in the unfairness of it all and being very angry.
And the point of saying all that is not to complain about a tough childhood or anything, but just to illustrate how very good I was at living in my head. It was an escape when I was a child, but as an adult, my default mode was to live in my mind. It was very hard to stay present, especially in uncomfortable situations. I carried a book with me everywhere. So I could escape at a moment's notice.
But what is interesting is I found people being present with me as super uncomfortable or even alarming. I can remember the first time I had a conversation with someone who actually looked at me when we were talking and was paying attention to everything I said. I felt like a bug under a microscope. I got flustered and I couldn't think of the right words to say.
I think of being present as giving this moment the gift of your time and attention. Whether you are by yourself or with someone, being present is a gift to them, but also to yourself. When you can train your attention and your focus to be where you want it to be, when you want it to be there, it's almost like unlocking a super power. This can be tough, especially if you have ADD, ADHD, or PTSD, but the more time you put into training your attention and your focus, the easier it will be.
Learning how to listen is part of this. Training your ears to hear not just the words but the meaning behind the words. Is the person you are talking to saying one thing but their body is saying something else. Are they trying to ask you for something without actually asking? What is the motivating factor behind the words? Are they trying to tell you something in a gentle way, but beating around the bush? But also just being right here right now in a conversation tells the person you are with, that they matter to you.
When someone is trying to tell you about the tough day they had, or something funny that happened at work, and you grab your phone to catch that notification. It silently tells them that your phone is more important. Now, sometimes when you're with someone you talk to every day, I don't think it would be realistic to be 100% present all the time although it would be a nice goal. But I think when you are around someone super often, there are certain times and certain conversations that need your full attention.
I can completely understand why my daughter goes into her head or her device when I go into babble mode. To her I'm not really saying anything important, she just feels the comfort of my presence, and feels free to let her mind wander. I find it funny, and am glad she feels free to do so. I am her safe place. But she also knows how to be there for me and me for her when it counts.
My son and I have a completely different dynamic. He only calls me once in a while and usually it's short and sweet. We might have a really good conversation that drags on once in a while, but for the most part we ask how each other is doing, and then conduct the business of that conversation. Which is usually a specific question of some sort. He has Aspergers, and ADHD pretty bad and it's really tough for him to maintain being present a lot of the time. He tends to prefer parallel play, where we spend time together in the same room but just doing different things. Or maybe watching a show together. That is also a type of presence as well.
Being able to be present, will enable you to actually give you a choice as to how you engage in this moment. You can read the situation and garner what it needs. It gives you more options when you are not letting this moment be just the same old thing as every other moment that kind of looks the same.
When you can begin to give each moment the attention it deserves, we can begin to look at the same old thing with new eyes. Something that may have annoyed you to no end will seem funny and endearing. And at the other end you may notice a subtle undertone to the conversation that may lead you to deeper truths about yourself and/or the other person. You may notice that someone you thought hung the moon might actually be subtly mean or struggling or something. You will learn a lot when you learn to be present with people.
You will also begin to learn a lot about yourself when you learn to be present with yourself, by yourself. For the biggest part of my life, the moment I get a moment to myself, becomes the moment I put my mind to work on something. It might be watching YouTube videos or reading a book, but for a long time it was so hard to let myself be alone in silence. My inner voice was so loud, it would be telling me about everything that was wrong with myself and my world. I was so very pessimistic about life.
Once I finally realized everything I think, is not necessarily absolute truth. And that I was meaner to myself than anyone outside of myself ever was. I began to learn how to listen to my thoughts as a simple observer, instead of being so identified with the thoughts. I learned how to train my attention and focus to be in a certain place. I would give my mind a job to do at this moment. At first maybe counting to 10 over and over again. Or I would give myself a mantra. “I am OK right now.” Or “I forgive you”
After a while, it became about listening to the birds or all the cacophony of sounds of the moment. Eventually even including all of my senses, and paying attention to the breath.
Now I don't have to be uncomfortable or in a state of anxiety to bring myself into being present right now. It is the place where I feel most myself. I definitely still have moments of anxiety or discomfort, but it is a place I just visit once in a while, not the place where I live.
In fact once I come out of it, it feels like it was actually a blessing to go there once again, because it's a way to gauge how far I've come. Sometimes it can be a dance one step forward, two steps back. But now that I know how to use the present to come back to myself. It's a much steadier pace forward.
Once you realize the truth of the saying, “The present is a present.” Your presence will totally begin to be a gift, not just to yourself but to all the people who interact with you as well.
Anyway, Have a Blessed Day
Delila Bishop
