The Sacred Practice of Presence

I begin writing from a tender place, having spent an hour on Zoom with my beloved church community as we entered the holy days leading up to Easter. Normally on this Holy Thursday night, we'd be together and wash each other's feet, an intimate and profound act of care whose sheer beauty brings me to tears every year.

Last year and this year we haven't been in each other's physical presence for Holy Week. Our rituals have been modified to accommodate our online gatherings. These gatherings cultivate community to a depth I didn't know was possible in a virtual setting. This evening as the priest talked about foot-washing, he commented that we don't have much need for it nowadays because we're not walking on dusty paths and we wear shoes and socks.

As he said this, I was transported back to about 9 years ago in a rural part of India where I lived with Indian Sisters of Charity of Nazareth for several months. Twice I experienced foot-washing when I visited homes there. Having my feet washed by people I know and washing theirs, too, is one thing. Having my feet washed by strangers welcoming me into their home, having oil rubbed into my feet and legs as an act of hospitality in which I was invited only to receive was a most humbling affair. I was blessed by this practice of attentive care.

As I think about attentive care, I've also been thinking a lot about my Uncle Bill who died about 2 weeks ago. Thankfully I got to see him about a week before he died. My uncle was fun and funny, ever a jokester. He loved Peep art (if you're not familiar with Peep art, here's a link with some images for you to enjoy), so Easter was one of the many times Bill brought on the fun, laughter, and joy. Maybe because having fun takes presence, he also seemed to practice presence when not joking around.

Except I don't think he'd call it a practice. It's just how he was, what he did.

Uncle Bill's worldviews and mine weren't necessarily the same. We voted differently, had different perspectives about Israel/Palestine and the racial justice protests of last year, and yet we never argued about our differing perspectives. When we'd see each other, he'd ask questions with genuine care and curiosity. He'd share his own perspective with the same care. The last time I saw him was just after the first anniversary of Breonna Taylor's death. I'd gone to their house with some notion of being present to him and to my aunt, to offer some love and care, and yet what I experienced was his, really their, presence and care for me. He was having a good day, so we were able to chat for a bit. In our conversation, he took the time to ask about the Breonna Taylor commemoration. I know this was a point of divergent perspectives, but he listened to me attentively. He was fully present, not waiting to make his own point or argue with me.

What I keep coming back to as I think about that conversation and others before it are words I say often in my Compassionate Communication workshops: The primary goal is connection.

When talking about potentially polarizing or difficult topics, I've had to learn and practice skills to foster connection. My tendency is to want to argue and prove why I'm right or focus only on my perspective without taking into consideration someone else's. If this surprises you, then all I can say is you've seen me when I'm practicing well, but there are still times I fall into old patterns.

Uncle Bill knew that the primary goal was connection. I don't think he'd call what he was doing a sacred practice of presence and yet I can't think of it as anything but that.

Listening open-heartedly and open-mindedly is a sacred practice of presence. Foot-washing is a sacred practice of presence. Noticing reflections on a still pond is another way of practicing presence with this world of which we are a part. Listening to the quiet voice within is a sacred practice of presence. Taking conscious breaths, dancing with abandon, creating just to create, sacred acts of presence.

Presence.

Connection.

Practice.

After you read this, or maybe just now, I hope you'll take a few moments to close your eyes, place your hand on your heart, and take a few conscious breaths. Allow yourself moments of presence just for you. Notice how you are. Notice if anything shifts simply by bringing presence to your breath. Transition back to whatever you were doing. Later in the day, depending on your own capacity, offer or ask for the sacred presence of another.

Presence.

Connection.

Practice.

May we practice presence to ourselves, to others, to our world, deeply and whole-heartedly.

As I noted, one way I practice presence is through Compassionate Communication. If you'd like to practice with me, I have a 6-week class that starts in just a few days- Tuesday, April 6, 12:30-2:30pm. If a single workshop suits you better, I am offering my Communicating Across Divides workshop on Wednesday, April 7, 7:00-9:00pm. These skills, like any other, require repetition and practice for integration.