Presence, what are you?

The transformative power of presence, Rilke's Buddhist poem, and letting the light out and in

Reclaiming the transformative power of presence, practising letting the light out and in, and a beautiful Rainer Maria Rilke poem in both English and German. If anything piques your curiosity or appreciation, please write a comment, hit like, and/or feel free to share with others. Your support really means a lot.

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Meander

I wanted to write a big piece on presence, but as I wrote I became more entangled in what presence looks like for me and how presence is described across varying philosophies, religions, and traditions. I was getting too heady. There’s so much I want to say, yet I don’t feel ready yet to zoom in and out on what is a transformative force without sliding into a disembodied wrangle, so for now *breath in, sigh out*…

…here’s what I can offer in this moment: As a baby, we all come into this world a bundle of raw presence, aware of our needs and those immediately around us. We live purely in the here and now, tending only to our needs as they arise. Quickly we start to create the building blocks of experience which are suffused with what has happened and what we can expect, our past and future being felt in the present moment (see the work of Daniel Stern’s The Interpersonal World of the Infant). For example, if my past attempts at latching on to my mum’s breast have been unsuccessful (past), I’ll begin to expect this (future) and refuse to be breastfed (present) - Stern refers to this as a Representations of Interactions that have been Generalised (RIGS).

I keep going through the months and years creating more memories of what has been and expectations, hopes, and fears of what will be. The more I do this, the harder it becomes to bring myself into the spontaneous present moment, which feels so ephemeral and fickle compared to the fixed known past and the carefully concocted future. It’s why many of us can identify with being inclined towards rumination over the past, or worry over the future, and not so many of us can say “I tend towards the present”! 

Me as a bundle of raw presence with my mum

I had to wrestle with myself and my surroundings to water the parched roots of being in the present, and as a by-product, cultivating presence. When I first started a specific mindfulness practice 14 years ago, I was sure I was losing my mind as I sat down and realised the extent of my racing thoughts that wouldn’t give me a moment of peace. Close my eyes, breath in, breath o…blah blah blah. On repeat. The metaphor I found helpful was to imagine I’m sat on the bank of the river watching my thoughts go by. Each time I step/fall into the river - i.e. I’m lost in thinking - simply return to the bank. Needless to say in one sitting I fell into the river many times, and I still do, albeit I notice more quickly.  “Where have I been for the last decade?” I asked myself. I had been everywhere except for the only space and time where presence can arise: The here and now. I see the ‘here and now’ not as a finite place that binds me to this moment, this moment, this moment, but a door that unlocks to let me enter a state where my past, future, and present coalesce, a state of presence that transcends space and time.

It’s where I am with my warts and all self. I am vulnerable enough to be challenged and I authentic enough to challenge, I find meaning, acceptance, joy, appreciation, and above all, presence is where I grow. It’s no wonder presence is the ground from which our development took place.

Presence can be trained for, but once in a state of presence we are not observing the situation, unlike mindfulness which requires that we watch the unfolding moment. Presence is an embodied occurrence that is always in relation to something else, so more accurately it would be ‘presence-with’. The description of ‘flow states’ is a popular example of presence, the absorption in the flow between self and other that can be in the domain of the intellect, body, emotions, or spirit, it doesn’t matter. Why? In presence there’s an experiential knowing that I exist in my whole being with the other so there’s no split between mind-body-spirit. I may have entered presence through my intellect, but once I’m present, I am united. It is only after the state has passed can we say “Ah, that was presence!”.

I had the experience when swimming this weekend, with my whole body pushing against the water, and I felt a joy of not only the sensorial experience but the appreciation for how the water was looking after me, and in turn I was looking after myself. I continued to breast stroke away, with the presence soon leaving as quickly as it arrived, but I was changed by its visit. Likewise when I’m with another person and I’m aware of my own being while aware of their being, there’s a light moving in and a light moving out of me. I am listening. I am moved. I am with them and I am also with myself, honouring my own needs, values, and choice and holding the other’s simultaneously. It’s a sensitivity working both ways, something as babies we thoroughly embodied. There’s an absence of looking down on the situation and analysing, which is what sets presence apart from mindfulness, although the latter may be involved in the journey into the former. 

I don’t believe presence is a state to try to permanently achieve because in doing so other valuable developmental states would be denied. Rather presence to me is this ray of light piercing several times through the fabric of the day to remind me of my wholeness, our wholeness. The more I try to cling to it, the quicker it fades away. I see now for at least the last 17 years I’ve been trying to live my life and make choices that allow the light to not only get out, but also allow the light in and where the two meet, here I find my presence. Here I know I am whole. I know you are whole and we all have the light of presence inside of us. 

Wonder

The next time you’re in conversation with somebody, notice you exist in that moment. It can be easy to simply say “I exist” from your head, so instead feel your feet on the ground, your lungs breathing, or any muscles you’re aware of. Feel your whole body say “I exist” or maybe something else such as “I am here now”. Now notice how the other person exists right now, their past, future, and present meeting your past, future and present. If you wish, you can visualise the light of their being touching you as the light of your being touches them. There’s no expectation of how this should be, just allow the conversation to continue. 

When you’re ready to reflect, recall how it felt to put the conditions in place for presence. How was it to relate to the other person? Were there any feelings of vulnerability? Did you feel more or less expansive? You can of course try this in nature, with your pet, baby/child. 

Reflect

Rainer Maria Rilke speaks a language that touches me deeply, and when I discovered this poem recently I was so moved by the coalescing of body and metaphysical, how the transcendence of presence is grounded in the ‘rich, thick fluids’ of the body here and now. For me it speaks to the Buddhist Heart Sutra’s teaching ‘form is emptiness, emptiness is form’. I also include the original German version because Rilke is writing in rhyme which I find adds to the beauty of the poem. 

Thank you for reading and sending your messages of support and views, these are so appreciated. Charlene. X

Buddha in Glory

Center of all centers, core of cores,
almond self-enclosed, and growing sweet—
all this universe, to the furthest stars
all beyond them, is your flesh, your fruit.

Now you feel how nothing clings to you;
your vast shell reaches into endless space,
and there the rich, thick fluids rise and flow.
Illuminated in your infinite peace,

a billion stars go spinning through the night,
blazing high above your head.
But in you is the presence that
will be, when all the stars are dead.

Buddha in der Glorie

Mitte aller Mitten, Kern der Kerne,
Mandel, die sich einschließt und versüßt, -
dieses Alles bis an alle Sterne
ist dein Fruchtfleisch: Sei gegrüßt.

Sieh, du fühlst, wie nichts mehr an dir hängt;
im Unendlichen ist deine Schale,
und dort steht der starke Saft und drängt.
Und von außen hilft ihm ein Gestrahle,

denn ganz oben werden deine Sonnen
voll und glühend umgedreht.
Doch in dir ist schon begonnen,
was die Sonnen übersteht.