The dying art of being present
Am I living in the moment yet?
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Live in the moment.
This expression moves through me like a ghost, the impact of the words long lost. A once well-intentioned statement now a platitude, destined for cheesy memes and home décor.
Deep down, though, we know that living in the moment is ✨a good thing✨. But what does being present actually mean?
We often conflate presence with attention. They are similar, yet not exactly the same thing. Giving someone or something your attention doesn’t necessarily mean that you are being present.
To me, being present evokes mental images of long meditation sessions, yoga retreats or eating lunch mindfully without watching a YouTube video at the same time. While I can be present doing all of these things, the reality is that once I dive back to the grind, any notion of living in the moment goes out the window.
My ability to be present has eroded so much that I’m rarely in a state of being truly aware and distraction-free. This goes for when I’m alone or with other people. One of the most overused words in my vocabulary is “busy” and I hate it. But it’s true — often, weeks just blaze by in a multitasking marathon. Life happens to me. I run from the gym to work to appointments to the bar, tap tap tapping on my phone as I go. The problem is that we’ve normalised and in some ways glamourised this state of being. It feels like a soft brag to leave a birthday party to attend another party, or leave a meeting because you’re being pulled into another meeting. I’m so needed. I’m so stressed. I’m so in-demand. None of it is good for us of course, because we are more disconnected, depressed and anxious than ever.
To unearth a favourite Tolkien quote of mine:
“I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.”
The current discourse on tech/life balance often focuses on how our devices are eroding our ability to concentrate. By allowing attention to become a commodity (gee, thanks capitalism), tech companies have perfected the art of casting endless lures, each one vying for our eyes, our ears, our wallets. This is an important conversation, but I believe that our hyper-connected lives are doing more than just shortening our attention spans; they're also draining our capacity to fully invest our hearts in what we do. We’re so worn down by the constant noise and seduced by flashy distractions that we’ve forgotten how to genuinely care about the present moment. It’s become cooler (and easier) to remain detached, indifferent, and aloof.
On the contrary, I think that it’s extremely cool to give a shit about what is happening in the here and now, but our society doesn’t seem to place any value on that anymore. This is very evident when you observe how senior citizens behave. I was sitting in my dentist’s waiting room the other day when an older man turned up. He stopped, looked directly at me and the other woman waiting there, said good morning to us, and only then took his seat. Compare this to the typical behaviour of someone my age: whip into the room, head bent down, AirPods poking from your ears and slump into your seat without acknowledging the existence of anyone else.
Isn't it a bit sad? It feels like we're losing something fundamental, as if we're forgetting a language we should all instinctively know how to speak. While I’m not naive enough to believe our ancestors spent their days in a perpetual zen-like meditation with zero distractions, I do think they were far less trapped in the loops of self-absorption that life today often looks like. They were forced to engage with those around them, to participate in the shared reality of their community.
When is the last time you had a truly present conversation with someone else? I’m not just talking about no screens or distractions. I’m talking about the kind of conversation where you are both tuned in. The more you speak, the more your hearts calibrate. You tell them how you feel and you see your words make an impression on their face like footprints in the snow. You hold each other’s emotions with a gentle firmness, like a yolk held inside an eggshell. Their words prickle the cells of your body like static. It feels electric.
I don’t want these experiences to be random, fleeting things. I don’t want to be a person who drifts onto Instagram while speaking on the phone with my Dad. I don’t want to be unapproachable to strangers. I don’t want to ask my partner about her day while she plays PlayStation and I answer emails. I didn’t come here not to enjoy every moment and suck the marrow out of life.
So I’m going to do something about it.
I’ve been trying to build habits that help me be more present during everyday, mundane tasks. Boy, it’s not easy. It feels boring, awkward and wonderful in different measures depending on the moment and outcome.
The recipe for living in the moment is simple to understand yet tricky to pull off.
Radical focus on just one thing at a time.
Rekindle your interest in other people and things around you.
Reduce your reliance on constant, curated entertainment from your devices.
Being present with myself or a friend requires not just time but emotional and spiritual energy, and I’m not used to putting in the effort anymore. It’s easier to pop your AirPods or look at memes and avoid the friction or monotony that can arise when not constantly distracting yourself.
Attention is about the mind, but presence is about the mind, body and soul. Presence needs to be cultivated.
But how does one do this?
I started in restaurants by purposely not looking at my phone whenever my partner leaves the table to use the bathroom. It feels odd to just sit at the table and stare around the restaurant. The worst part is that I feel like I’m making the other diners sitting at the tables next to me uncomfortable.
While on a lunchtime stroll through Berlin Mitte last week, I decided to leave my AirPods behind and take in the sounds of the city. I immediately noticed so much more. The wind rushing through the trees. A skateboarder carving his way around a street corner. A child’s infectious laughter. Two teenage girls breathlessly gossiping as they walked. A woman having a loud argument on the phone while dragging a suitcase behind her. If I march down the street with Chop Suey! blaring in my ears, I literally miss all of it.
Here are some more behaviours which I’m trying to make habits in order to achieve the elusive state of living in the moment:
Not entering buildings, waiting rooms or shops wearing headphones. Smiling at the person working there and at the very least saying hello and goodbye. Better yet, striking up a conversation!
Making eye contact with the barista, the waiter, the person delivering your parcel — and not rushing the exchange.
Commuting, exercising and cleaning with just my thoughts for company. Taking AirPod breaks. Resisting the urge to scroll when forced to wait for a few minutes.
Focusing on one task or activity at a time. For example, taking calls on speaker and putting my phone down to focus only on the conversation.
Taking tech-free walks in my neighbourhood or nature and paying attention to what’s going on. Trying to observe changes of the seasons and who is on the street.
Regularly taking deep breaths. An oldie but a goldie.
It’s a long game, but you reap what you sow. I want to live life wholeheartedly and notice what is going on around me instead of floating through my days in a bubble of my own construction.
On a recent trip back to Ireland, I spent time with a kitten my family adopted — a stray who is slowly growing accustomed to human affection. Animals are masters of presence; they immerse themselves in whatever activity they set their mind to. It was so grounding to feel the warmth of her snuggle, both of us enjoying the unspoken richness of being alive together.
We need to jump off the hamster wheel of chasing grand experiences or perfect, Instagram-worthy moments. The beauty of presence lies in its simplicity.
It's about showing up exactly where you are, as you are.
It’s allowing small moments to transform how we perceive our lives.
It’s being brave enough to invite the world in.
So beautifully written, loved this bit 'You tell them how you feel and you see your words make an impression on their face like footprints in the snow.' really resonates, really want to make sure im having more mindful conversations. Thank you for writing!
the chop suey line made me laugh out loud. amazing work, really motivating me to keep striving for a distraction-free life