(Be sure to carve out time to plan for staying present and make sure you’re planning some time for reflection later too—we really need to be the most productive and get the most out of this that we can so it’s not a waste of time) (just kidding)
When I studied abroad in college, I went to Seville, Spain. I look back on these four months as most people do with their study abroad: with a pair of rose-colored glasses. When I think about this time in my life, I think about the way I felt like I was coming into who I was. I think about how for a moment, towards the end of my trip, I entered my flow state and felt truly like myself. I felt close to and cared for by almost everyone I studied with—even people I was hesitant towards at the beginning of the trip. I felt like my life was going to be okay, even when it was stressful or didn’t make sense. The creeping voice of are you doing enough? was temporarily at least softer, if not silent. Maybe because for one of the first times, I felt completely present in my life.
The most present I felt was for the week after I got my phone stolen in Barcelona. Among being a HUGE lesson in being present itself (this situation is rich with irony—my roommate and I were at an outlook, astounded by the beauty of Barcelona, its twinkling lights stealing our attention for a quiet and wine-drunk two minutes, in which our phones were slipped silently into the pocket of someone nearby from their position between us), getting my phone stolen forced me to practice being present with myself and knowing what it was like to not have constant access to other people or outside opinions. On the walk to and from school, my mind was quiet. I listened to music sometimes, but mostly just observed the environment around me. There wasn’t an option to communicate with others in passing time—instead, I told my friends where I would meet them and then did it. As Miguel Ángel Ruiz Macías writes about in The Four Agreements, the lack of my phone made it easier to be Impeccable with My Word. There wasn’t an option to really not go somewhere, and if I didn’t know where I was going, I stopped and really asked someone on the street. I practiced my Spanish, practiced asking for help, practiced trusting others—all gifts in the journey of self-development that you can get away with not practicing when those needs are met with a phone.
Since I now have constant access to my phone, I find myself falling into old patterns. I scroll on TikTok when I’m on the bus, flip through new clothing trends on Pinterest, or stare at recipe videos on Instagram. While none of these are inherently toxic, they all have one thing in common: they are not my real life. Looking for information to use is one thing, but passively consuming content is another. It makes me nostalgic for the time I had no choice but to pay attention to my real life.
But, I know I do have a choice every day. I can read and I often bring my journal on the bus as well. I try to walk without music for at least part of my commute. I have committed to cleaning out the drafts on my TikTok so I can delete the app, at least for a bit.
What do you think? How would your life be different with more presence?
All love,
Kate