Moving at the Pace of Presence
Have you ever been late for an appointment and found yourself driving behind a car going 35 miles per hour on a 55mph highway? What are they thinking? Why are they even on the road? You grouse through clenched teeth, looking for a way to pass them in a roar. Or, maybe you’ve been in line at the Post Office during your lunch break while the person four places ahead of you rummages through their purse looking for exact change to give the clerk for their package? She mutters, “I know I’ve got it, give me another minute,” while you fume that you will now have to come back another time, when sanity has returned.
The other day, I was in the grocery store at a time of day when it wasn’t very busy. For some reason, on this day, people seemed particularly oblivious to their surroundings. In the cereal aisle, someone was nursing their cart veerrry slowly down the middle of the aisle as they considered every option on the shelves. Around the corner, a sweet couple blocked the entrance to an aisle with their cart and their bodies while they contemplated … something important on the end shelf. Everywhere I went, people seemed to be in their own worlds as they shopped, blocking anyone around them. This happens; I’ve undoubtedly done it myself more times than I am aware of.
But this day, whatever laidback vibe the store was perfuming the air with, I must have breathed it in too. Not that I was blocking people’s way, but rather I was remarkably calm, waiting patiently for people to make their decisions and move on, and I became curious about them. Not in a judgy way, as in how can they possibly not realize they are blocking the way, but in a truly open way. The sweet couple shopping together, quietly conferring with each other over the tea selections, seemed so easy and gentle with each other – how lovely to see that. The young woman and her child, engrossed in picking out cereal, reminded me of when I used to do that with my own child. They all became, not obstacles, but real people, and I decided to just be with them, be with myself, while I waited. I was in no rush, it turned out. What was important for me to ‘get to’ was right in front of me.
A phrase came to mind, one I heard from a teacher once as she led us in an exercise: "We will move at the pace of presence." She meant no one will be rushed for the sake of conserving time; we will be fully present to ourselves and to each other, and that will determine how fast we move or for how long we speak. I find this a lovely invitation - to move at the pace of presence.
How present are we in our daily lives? We tend to move quickly, getting to the next task, the next place, the next thought, largely on automatic pilot. We might be intent on our task, but is the goal to simply get it done, or could we be present to it with our whole body, mind, and heart? Could we notice all the details while we do the task: what are we feeling in our body, is it contracted or relaxed and expansive? How much are we leaning into the next thing, the next moment? Are we even breathing? What else is in our environment: does someone want us to notice them or listen to them? Is there something beautiful or endearing happening right around us that we might miss: watching our child play, noticing how impossibly blue the sky is, or noticing, for a moment, that the pain in our back has eased?
This isn’t to say we should get distracted and tugged around by what’s going on around us, just the opposite. Not distracted but rather fully present. Looking up and noticing what’s going on – really noticing it – might allow us to see more, to experience more of the simple pleasure of being alive. If we’re in the grocery store, let’s be fully in the grocery store. Shopping can be more than a means to an end.
Maybe we don’t have to rush in and out of the store. Of course, sometimes we do, and that’s okay too. But when we don’t, we could slow down, breathe, open our awareness, and be present. Then we will move at the pace of presence; we will listen to the present moment and what it offers us, in all its aliveness. If we move faster than the pace of presence, we may miss something precious: this moment. This moment, which is the only moment in which we are alive. The past is over, and the future doesn’t exist yet. It’s all happening right here, right now. If the moment is pleasant, let’s open our gratitude for it. When the moment is unpleasant, let’s find its ubiquitous aliveness; we may discover something good in there anyway, something more than unpleasantness.
Have you ever been surprised by what you notice when you move at the pace of presence? Try it out and see!
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