Presence Isn’t Who You Are. It’s What You Choose
The gap between losing presence and regaining it is where the actual work happens.
There are people in our lives who just seem present. They look you in the eye when you speak. They remember previous conversations. We assume they possess something we lack, some natural gift for attention the rest of us don’t have.
Ed Sheeran got rid of his phone in 2015. Not because he wanted to make a statement. Because he had 10,000 contacts and constant messages, he couldn’t be present anymore. Dwayne Johnson said in 2021 that the most valuable things in life come from being present, not from the phone, not from work.
These are people who could claim natural presence. They’re successful, focused, seemingly in control of their attention. But here’s what they’re actually admitting: they have to work at it. They have to choose it. They fail at it and then choose it again.
Presence isn’t a personality trait you either have or don’t have. It’s a decision you make in this moment, then again in the next moment, then again after you’ve completely lost it for twenty minutes. Being present is one of the simplest practices we can learn, and one of the hardest to maintain.
Think about the last time you were in a conversation and realised your mind had wandered. Maybe you were nodding along but hadn’t heard a word for the past minute. That moment of realisation isn’t the failure. That’s the opportunity.
The gap between losing presence and regaining it is where the actual work happens. Not in never leaving. In noticing you’ve left and choosing to come back. Over and over. Without beating yourself up about it. Just noticing and returning.
We talk about being present as if it’s a destination. As if one day you’ll arrive at presence and stay there, finally fixed, finally enough. But that’s not how attention works. Your mind will wander. You’ll drift mid-conversation. You’ll realise you’ve been staring at someone without absorbing anything they’ve said. This is being human.
The difference between people who seem naturally present and those who don’t isn’t that some minds never wander. It’s that some people have practised noticing when they’ve left. And they’ve practised choosing to return without making it mean something terrible about themselves.
The more you practise returning, the shorter the gap becomes. Not because you’ve transformed into a different person. Because you’ve strengthened a choice you always had available.
I am absolutely fidgety, distractible, and prone to interrupting, especially when my thoughts are triggered and racing through my mind. I might then lose my thread mid-sentence and find myself adrift in the interaction. But by practising presence, I am learning to recognise this moment, bring myself back into it, and refocus on the person I am with.
That return is the practice. Again and again, if needed.