Presence

It can’t be described. It might be possible to demonstrate it to someone who was interested in the idea. Presence is being in the moment. Awful, trendy phrase, I know. I recognize presence by its absence, and learn its benefits by rediscovering it. Presence is easy when it comes to beauty, serenity, and solitude. When the air in your lungs is the same air that blows upward from the mountain top, presence is like the dancing kite of which you are the tail: effortless.

Presence is not so easy when it comes to people. Toxic people who batten on to others in their need and can’t recognize ease or comfort when it comes to them. Busy people who never stop to look or listen, and insist on chattering like monkeys. Pushy, domineering people who have hidden feelings riding their backs with whips. Sick people who spread misery like a stain in the air around them. Angry people who carry invisible weapons in both hands, loaded and cocked. Sad people, floating silently by on a dark greasy river with a strong current. Fearful, timid people who worry all the time, and can’t be reassured. People who don’t know what they want, but they want it so desperately that you can smell it like sweat on their skin. Being present to them becomes a practice.

Why even try? Because of Christ, silly goose! Because on two occasions over the last few years the Spirit blew past me while I was in church and left an understanding behind.

The first one was a sudden deep realization of the meaning of corporate confession. I felt it as an impulse to ask forgiveness for all sins everywhere, and in particular the sins of the people here in church with me. I realized that the sins of other people, all other people, belonged to me just as much as the wrongs that grew out of my own choices, and that my asking for forgiveness for all of us together was utterly fitting. This is why the Bodhisattva vow carries truth and meaning to me.

The second one came after I heard or read a Zen talk (I wish I could remember who and where) about how the toxic people in your life can be regarded as “precious teachers.” I was in church looking across to the other side of the aisle where a person was sitting who is one of the most toxic people I have ever known. She has provided me many challenges in terms of how to be in community with her, without harm. Suddenly I remembered that talk, and I said to myself, “Wow, she is my Precious Teacher.”

So presence becomes an exercise of allowing myself to be uncomfortable, distressed, and hurting without blame or attachment. I can’t shut out my surroundings, because of my Asperger’s. I can’t block the effect the people around me are having on me. I only have two choices. Leave, and let distance relieve my discomfort, or stay, and find a way to be balanced and easy in the midst of it. I felt very strongly that God was asking me to stay. If I meant my baptismal vows, then I could not justify taking the easy way out. I was baptized over thirty years ago, and I’m still exploring the significance of the phrase “with God’s help.” I have kept learning, and will keep on learning.

This train of thought has led naturally from a reflection on Presence to a consideration of Ministry. Presence alone is not enough. Remaining in affinity with my fellow beings in the midst of suffering is only the first step. Allowing what hope, wisdom, harmony, and balance I have gained to be accessible to other people, through me, is the next step. Finding ways to do that becomes both my practice and my ministry. So it comes around full circle. Practice, Presence, Ministry, all one thing.

No distinctions.