On being present

Present. Present. Present. Three different words that look the same. I like words, I like playing with them, rolling them around my mouth (or, in this case, my mind!). Present. Present. Present. They look the same. But as often happens with words, there are many layers of meaning beneath the flesh and blood of ink and letters. On this occasion, I'm not thinking of a birthday present. And I'm not verbifying the gift in order to present it to you. I'm thinking of being present. Being here. Being here, now, in this moment.

Present.

It is something of a rarity these days, to be present. We're usually half here, and half zooming through the ether on an ever-scrolling flying carpet of pictures, video clips and adverts. We don't have time or attention to be present here and now, because we're too busy elsewhere. In a world where time doesn't tick; it scrolls. Smoothly from one thing to another. From London to California. From holiday snaps to cleaning products. From smart-watches to baby photos. Time slides and slips beneath my scrolling finger and I can't look away. I can't be fully present with the people in front of me because one eye is on that tiny computer that I have to have with me at all times.

Present.

What started as a way to reconnect with old friends from the past who have moved away, has steadily replaced real-life friendships with the actual people who are here now. What could have been (and perhaps still can be if used carefully) a wonderful instrument to deepen real-life connections, has become a slave-master, bending us to its will and diluting our connections to the people around us. 

The ability to be present, once a given, is now a battle of the will.