Presence: What This Year Has Taught Me About Being Here, Right Now

At the beginning of this year as I have for so many years, I chose a word to guide me through the months ahead. That word was Presence.

I didn’t want another word that simply sounded inspiring or something I would write in my journal and revisit occasionally. I wanted a word that would challenge me, ground me, and perhaps change the way I experienced my everyday life.

I had spent so much time looking ahead, planning, anticipating, working toward the next thing, and navigating the many moving pieces of life. I wanted to become more intentional about where I placed my attention. I wanted to experience more of the moments I was actually living rather than constantly thinking about the moments ahead.

What I didn’t realize was just how many different ways life would invite me to practice that word.

As I look back on this year so far, I realize that presence hasn’t necessarily come from doing more. In many ways, it has come from doing less, slowing down, making different choices, and learning to listen.

And perhaps that is where the greatest growth has happened.

Learning to Move at a Different Pace

One of the most unexpected teachers of presence has been pain.

For someone who has always been fairly active, independent, and accustomed to moving through a full day, slowing down hasn’t always come naturally.

Pain has changed the way I walk, the distance I can comfortably cover, and even how I approach the simplest daily activities. There are days when I need to stop, rest, change my plans, or acknowledge that something I intended to accomplish simply isn’t going to happen.

I’ve had to learn that stopping isn’t the same as giving up.

There is a difference between moving through life with intention and pushing through life out of habit. I am learning to recognize that difference.

Sometimes presence looks like noticing my body asking for a slower pace. Sometimes it means sitting down when I would rather keep going. Sometimes it means allowing myself to enjoy a beautiful afternoon without feeling compelled to fill every available hour with something productive.

I’ve always appreciated the idea of slowing down, but this year I’ve had to practice it in a much more tangible way.

And there is something freeing about no longer measuring a day by how much I accomplished, how far I walked, or how many things I checked off my list.

Some days, being present means honoring what is possible today rather than mourning what isn’t.

Finding My Voice and Being Present in the Moment

Another unexpected experience this year was speaking at a conference.

Standing in front of an audience and sharing my words, experiences, and knowledge required a different kind of presence.

There is something about speaking your thoughts aloud, rather than writing them down or quietly processing them, that asks you to be fully there. You cannot rush ahead to the next paragraph or edit your words as you go. You have to trust what you know, connect with the people in front of you, and allow the moment to unfold.

I had to be present in my voice, my thoughts, and my interactions.

It reminded me that presence isn’t always quiet or still. Sometimes it is standing in front of a room, sharing something meaningful, allowing yourself to be seen, and trusting that what you have to offer is enough.

It also reminded me how much I enjoy connecting with others through shared experiences and meaningful conversations.

Returning to Work, But on Different Terms

This year also brought the decision to return to work in Denver.

Work has always been an important part of my life. I enjoy connecting with people, sharing what I’ve learned, teaching, and being part of something that makes a difference.

But returning to work meant considering something I hadn’t always given enough attention to: what would this look like within the life I am living now?

The commute, the physical demands, my energy, and managing pain all needed to become part of the conversation.

Rather than simply returning to my old routines and expecting my body and life to accommodate them, I began establishing guidelines that would allow me to work while still protecting the things that have become increasingly important to me.

I wanted to work, but I also wanted to enjoy my life.

I wanted meaningful professional engagement without sacrificing the joy I had been cultivating in my personal life.

That distinction matters.

I am learning that I don’t have to choose between being productive and being present. But I do need to be intentional about the conditions under which I say yes.

Not every opportunity is worth the cost of my time, energy, or well-being. And not every invitation needs to be accepted simply because I am capable of accepting it.

This is a different kind of ambition. One that leaves room for a life outside of work.

Being Present With My Body: Movement and Nourishment

My relationship with exercise and food has also become more intentional.

For years, movement has been a significant part of my life. It has been a way to manage stress, maintain strength, find balance, and feel connected to my body.

But pain and physical limitations have required me to reconsider what movement means.

I have had to let go of certain expectations and become more attentive to what my body needs on any given day. Rather than exercising simply because it is what I have always done, I am learning to ask myself different questions.

What feels supportive today? What will help me maintain strength without depleting myself? Do I need movement, rest, or something in between?

The same awareness has extended to how I nourish myself.

I am paying more attention to what I eat, how much I eat, and how food supports my energy and overall well-being. Not from a place of restriction or chasing a particular number, but from a desire to make choices that support the life I want to live.

Presence has shifted my focus from controlling my body to listening to it.

There is a difference between doing something because you think you should and doing something because you recognize its value.

I want my choices to come from the latter.

Becoming More Intentional About Who Gets My Time

Perhaps one of the quieter changes this year has been becoming more aware of the people with whom I spend my time.

Our time and energy are limited resources. As life changes, so does our understanding of where we want to invest them.

I’ve become more mindful of the conversations I engage in, the relationships I nurture, and the environments in which I spend my time.

I find myself appreciating genuine connection, laughter, shared experiences, and conversations that leave me feeling more connected to life.

I am also becoming more comfortable recognizing when something doesn’t align with the life I am trying to create.

This isn’t about judging people or expecting every relationship to be easy. It is about understanding that the people we surround ourselves with influence how we experience our days.

I want to spend more time with people who allow me to be myself, who appreciate the little things, who can laugh, who are willing to grow, and who understand that meaningful connection doesn’t require constant activity or grand gestures.

Sometimes presence is simply putting down the phone, looking someone in the eyes, listening without planning your response, and appreciating the person sitting across from you.

And sometimes it means choosing to spend an afternoon alone, enjoying your own company, without feeling that you need to fill the space.

Presence Is Not Perfection

If there is one thing I have learned this year, it is that presence isn’t something we achieve and then maintain effortlessly.

There are still days when I get caught up in what needs to happen next. There are moments when frustration creeps in, when pain dictates more than I would like, or when I find myself wishing things were different.

Being present doesn’t mean pretending those feelings don’t exist.

It means acknowledging what is happening without allowing every difficult moment to take me away from the life that is still unfolding around me.

It means recognizing that I can experience discomfort and still appreciate beauty. I can have limitations and still find freedom. I can change my plans without losing my sense of purpose.

I am discovering that presence is less about controlling my circumstances and more about choosing how I meet them.

And that choice happens over and over again, in ordinary moments.

Returning to My Word

When I chose Presence as my word of the year, I thought about the courage it takes to stay, to soften, and to live awake to what is.

I still love that description because it has become even more meaningful as the year has unfolded.

The courage to stay means not always rushing toward the next chapter or trying to fix everything that feels uncomfortable.

The willingness to soften means allowing life to look different than I imagined, being gentler with myself, and recognizing that strength doesn’t always look like pushing harder.

And living awake means noticing the things that are easy to overlook: the beauty outside my window, the conversations that matter, the satisfaction of meaningful work, the nourishment of movement, and the simple joy of an ordinary day.

I don’t know what the remaining months of this year will bring. There will undoubtedly be more adjustments, unexpected challenges, and opportunities to practice what I am learning.

But I do know that I don’t want to rush through them.

I want to continue making choices that support the life I am creating, rather than simply trying to return to the life I once had.

I want to keep finding joy in the middle of uncertainty, beauty in the imperfect, and gratitude in the everyday.

Because perhaps the greatest gift of presence is realizing that life isn’t waiting for us somewhere down the road.

It is happening right here.

In this body. In this moment. In this season of life.

And I want to be here for it.

A little reflection for you:

What would change if you stopped measuring your days by what you accomplished and started noticing how fully you experienced them?

Perhaps presence begins with something as simple as pausing long enough to ask yourself that question.

Enjoying this content? My book 52 Weeks of Wisdom & Wellness goes deeper — find it here.