On Being Authentically Present

Here's something my friend Abigail said (not perfectly quoted, as my memory kinda like the Titanic: Seemingly invincible, but actually a complete disaster*) that has stuck with me: "Never miss the chance to let someone know that you are truly, authentically present with them." I dedicate this post to her.

I really like this advice, partly because it made me realize how little people are truly, authentically present with each other, and partly because it made me realize how important it is to try to . Cell phones, stress, multitasking, or just random, unrelated thoughts/priorities can frequently get in the way of truly meaningful human connection.

I think this is why I like board games. When you're playing a board game with someone, you are connected and present with them on some fundamental level. It's different from a video game because it's tactile, immediate, you're all looking each other in the eye; it's different from just hanging out because there's some aspect of the game grounding you all together -- you're all thinking about strategy or in-game events, not about your own individual lives.

One of my favorite high school teachers taught me that when someone is sad, oftentimes the most helpful thing you can do is to just be there for them. Just be present. There's no need to pry, to analyze, to say anything at all -- the mere act of being with them, distractionless, silent, can prove tremendously helpful and therapeutic. Just by being present, you are letting them know that they are a priority in your life; that you understand and respect their privacy; that whenever they want to talk, because this is about them, you will be there, waiting to listen. That's powerful. Silence can speak volumes.

I was on a camping trip when I and someone else sat at the top of a hill admiring the vast expanse of forest stretching out beneath and around us. It was a beautiful scene. We both sat there, silent, and in the silence we both understood that the other person was present, really, authentically present, that both of us had nothing on our minds but the forest in front of us. In that one brief moment we -- well, at least I -- experienced a deep, powerful connection. A connection not romantic, not familial, not even friendly; just human. The moment was as compelling as it was rare.

As David Foster Wallace put it, "Everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am at the absolute center of the universe; the realest, most important person in existence." There's no way around this reality. But in those rare moments of true, authentic human presence, we can glimpse behind the veil, briefly grasp the fact that we are not at the absolute center of the universe, that there is someone right next to us who is just as human and vulnerable as we are. That is a beautiful thing.

I wish I felt it more.

-Me




*Also surprisingly vulnerable to icebergs.