Presence of Mind in a World of Distraction
(Originally published in my blog “Undertaken Seriously” on March 2, 2017)
Firstly, let me apologize for not posting for the last two-ish weeks. Midterm exams—among other priorities—got in the way of me devoting any time to the blog. That being said, I don’t plan to ever truly sacrifice quality for the sake of punctuality: to write one’s best, the topic must be timely, the mindset focused, and the environment quiet and conducive to thought. The Ancient Greek word kairos, meaning “the opportune (supreme) moment,” i.e. a moment where rhetoric is necessary, is what I’m looking for. Still, regularity is a healthy, so I’ll try to limit the number of weeks sans post as much as possible. But I digress.
The topic for today is the nature of our experiences, namely; our relative “presence” in them, and the means by which we filter these experiences. I am of the camp that advocates for a full presence in any experience, whether or not you believe at the time that the experience is a valid one. We will unpack this idea later.
Now, you are currently “present” somewhere while you read this article; physically, that is. Whether or not your mind is present on the content of this article is another question, and that discrepancy is where controversy may lie over our interpretations of our experience.
If I’m, say, sitting in a boring lecture, there is no guarantee of both a physical and mental presence; only the physical. Yet it is valuable nonetheless to keep a constant mental presence in sync with your physical presence. Why? Because if you continue going through the motions of physical experience with anything less than 100% mental presence and focus, you are wasting your and others’ time. Many physical experiences are part of some infrastructure that we are participants in, whether it be school, a workplace, or even everyday human interaction. I would argue that these experiences are inevitable should one choose to be a contributing member of society and not a hermit.
Yet we see so many people simply “going through the motions,” or at least it seems. With the addition of total mental presence (which is arguably a skill one must learn), these nearly inescapable experiences would at least be met with our full selves. We would think more critically, be more engaged, and enjoy ourselves in those fleeting moments; those blips of time and space that construct our very existence. We may even find, with enough engagement, that some of the experiences we once thought dull suddenly blossom and compel us.
Nobody wants to live with regret, let alone die with it, so I ask “What do you have to lose?” The answer is really not much. Full presence might take time to learn, and could feel awkward or anxious at first, but the rewards are immense. Engage yourself by focusing your mind first inward, learning about yourself; and then outward, whereby you may focus on others. Even if you embarrass yourself, the moment is more fleeting and unmemorable than you may realize: In harsher terms, strangers and acquaintances don’t really care that much, so knock yourself out!
The filtering of experiences is one of the barriers to full presence, and almost instinctively I think of smartphones as an example of one of these detriments. Having been to my fair share of concerts and festivals, I and so many others are guilty of recording large portions of a set instead of simply watching it. In this the actuality of the experience is lost; dumbed-down and captured in pixels on a screen, rather than watched and enjoyed through the conduit of our body and soul. It breaks my heart to see so many people more focused on stealing an experience with their phone, rather than letting themselves go and enjoying full presence in such a unique and profound moment.
Full presence is paramount in an experience as all-encompassing as music, in my opinion. Concerts can be an almost religious experience for some, accomplished through full presence alone. You get close to your favorite artist, you see them with your own eyes and possibly even have the proximity to interact with them; you recognize the source of your favorite music as flesh and blood and feeling, and sense the same energy within and throughout the crowd around you dancing and experiencing all that you are. That’s full presence. Whatever the perceived convenience or merit of watching the recording of the show later, the opportunity cost of losing out on the experience in-person is too great.
The other day on the bus, I was minding my own business (as one should on public transit) and gazing toward the sunset out of the window. I was captivated: shades of color shifted in the clouds from white to orange, yellow, red, pink, even lilac purple; stark against the backdrop of a deep blue sky, the burning sun illuminated the scene and then slowly took its leave for the night. I smiled and counted myself and the others on the bus lucky to have witnessed such a spectacle so casually; and, it seemed, the girl across from me was equally captivated. I glanced over, however, and found her viewing the entire thing through her phone camera as she was preparing to post it on Snapchat. I was sickened, in a way, and yet also pitied her. No camera will ever capture what our eyes can see, nor could a video or even a story express what our own being can experience. Don’t let the world be filtered through anything but your own eyes, heart, and mind. Be present and be mindful, and you will be your best self.
