For a long time, I thought being present was something you either were or weren’t.
I didn’t realize it was a skill — one you actually have to practice, fail at, and return to over and over again.
Presence doesn’t come naturally in a world built to fragment your attention. It takes effort. And even then, it slips away faster than you expect.
Presence isn’t about perfection
Being present isn’t about shutting your brain off or achieving some constant state of calm. It’s not a personality trait. It’s not a spiritual achievement.
Most days, it looks much simpler than that.
It looks like noticing when your mind has left the room — and gently bringing it back.
That’s it.
Sometimes I’ll be outside with my kids, or working in the yard, or walking a trail, and suddenly realize I’ve been replaying a conversation or planning tomorrow instead of actually being where my feet are.
That moment of noticing matters more than the minutes before it.
Distraction is the default now
We live in a time where distraction isn’t a failure — it’s the baseline.
Phones, notifications, podcasts, background noise — there’s always something waiting to fill the silence. Presence doesn’t stand a chance unless you protect it intentionally.
I’ve written before about Sitting in Silence and Doing Nothing, and this connects directly to that idea. Silence isn’t empty — it’s where attention can finally settle.
The hard part is letting it.
Parenting made this unavoidable
If I’m honest, becoming more present wasn’t something I pursued out of self-improvement. It was something parenting demanded.
Kids live in the moment by default. When you’re distracted around them, the contrast is obvious. They notice when you’re half-there.
That doesn’t mean constant engagement or forced quality time. It means actually being where you say you are — mentally, not just physically.
I’m still learning this. Some days I do better than others. The goal isn’t perfection. It’s honesty.
Presence shows up differently in nature
I notice presence most clearly when I’m outside.
Whether it’s riding a bike, fishing, or just walking without a destination, nature has a way of pulling you back into your body. You can’t multitask the same way. Your senses are involved.
That’s why posts like Fishing and the Art of Waiting or getting lost on a trail resonate so deeply with me. Those activities quietly train attention. They don’t demand presence — they reward it.
It’s easier to notice than to maintain
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that presence isn’t something you “achieve” and then keep.
It’s something you lose — constantly.
And that’s okay.
The skill is in noticing sooner. Catching yourself earlier. Returning more gently.
Some days, presence lasts minutes. Some days, seconds. That doesn’t make it meaningless.
A slower life makes presence possible
This all ties back to the larger direction I’ve been moving toward — a slower, more intentional way of living.
When life is packed wall-to-wall, presence becomes another task to fail at. When there’s space, it has room to grow.
That’s why The Difference Between Simple and Easy matters so much to me. Presence is simple, but it isn’t easy — especially at first.
Still, it’s worth practicing.
Not because it makes life perfect — but because it makes it felt.
– Just a note from the yard.