For Presence

In the early morning hours before everyone is awake, I like to steal a few moments of quiet time for reflection with coffee and journal and sometimes a favorite book. This morning I picked up To Bless This Space Between Us, by John O’Donohue, one of the books I turn to again and again because of his exquisite way with language, language that reveals beauty, insight. And grace.

I usually just open the book to a random page, confident that whatever I discover will be what I need at that moment, and today was no different.

Here is the poem that jumped off the page at me.

For Presence

Awaken to the mystery of being here
and enter the quiet immensity of your own presence.

Have joy and peace in the temple of your senses.

Receive encouragement when new frontiers beckon.

Respond to the call of your gift and the courage to follow it's path.

Let the flame of anger free you of all falsity.

May warmth of heart keep your presence aflame.

May anxiety never linger about you.

May your outer dignity mirror an inner dignity of soul.

Take time to celebrate the quiet miracles that seek no attention.

Be consoled in the secret symmetry of your soul.

May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven around the heart of wonder.

- John O'Donohue

Hmm. Interesting that this poem should be the one that commands attention today.   Could that be what's been missing lately? That quality of presence? 

What is presence, really? And how does one truly inhabit it?

There is a stance one takes, in the interior landscape of heart and mind that provides the ground for presence. It is the sense of taking one's place in the world, fully and completely, without apology and also free of inflation. 

But there is also a literal expression of it. This poem brought back memories of my days as a dancer, so many years ago.  In dance, presence has a very real physical manifestation, and there is a specific technique directing one in how to achieve it.

What does - or did - that dancer's presence feel like in my body?

First, you stand erect and at ease, as if suspended from the sky above by a thread rising from the top of your head.

Next, you press your shoulder blades down and back toward one another, as if you are articulating wings.

Then, your chest opens up and out, as if you are presenting your heart to the universe fully and without reservation, free of any armor. 

Last, you summon all of your strength into your core, that literal, physical place that is the absolute center of gravity in your body.

Once a dancer masters this technique, it becomes the foundation for all other technique that follows.  We used to call it 'being on your leg'.  And it was something we were constantly checking for - during class, during rehearsal or performance - am I on or off at this moment?

If you were on, you had mastered the technique needed to do almost anything.  Really.  Presence is the foundation and starting point for everything that a dancer does. It's what allows them to defy gravity, to dance in a way that thrills the soul. 

It is a challenge to manifest presence in the body, yes. But the real mastery comes, I'm understanding now, when one finds that stance in the interior landscape of heart and mind.