”There are two types of people in the world – those who perform and those who watch.” – Joe Tracini
Something I have become hyper aware of is my presence; in more ways than one. It’s become a chore to just “be” which is a painful irony given that I have set this corner of the internet aside to explore exactly that. It feels like this crushing pressure to be so in every moment that seeing the forest for the trees is another matter entirely. Whether it’s a conversation, a moment of serenity or an event, I cannot seem to find a sweet spot of existence.
My husband and I went to watch Ellie Goulding live recently. If anyone knows me, they know that this counts as a “Very Fucking Big Deal” and, of course, it was. Without dragging you through every moment of the two hour spectacle, we reached the end of the show and she started a speech all about being in the moment and putting your phones away. “When I started going to shows, we didn’t have phones to hide behind so, please, just dance with me for this one” she preached to the crowd. I echoed her sentiment – sure enough, when I started going to gigs, we didn’t film every exclusive and take blurry pictures from 15 metres away. We watched, we sang, we danced and we thrived. Falling on deaf ears, nearly everyone in the the first three rows whipped their phones out to hastily film what ended with a whimper, not a bang (that’s personal preference for you). What is so pressing that we have to document every waking moment of our lives? Is it that we want to share our memories with those around us? Maybe it’s that we need to feel our voice is heard and our presence is felt. “I promise you, you’ll never look at those photos again!” Ellie laughed as she started strumming away and bouncing around the stage. I’m sure she’s right.
Weeks prior, I had been to see Fall Out Boy with two friends, another “Very Fucking Big Deal”. These thoughts of being present were whipping around my head as we drove to Birmingham whilst I was battling with a niggling anxiety of having never been to this venue before. There wasn’t a moment of silence on the car ride there whilst we touched on every topic known to man, catching up after months of adulthood dragged us apart. It was bliss. And I felt present enough. We ate food, we laughed, we danced our way through two hours of nostalgic rock music, and we enjoyed ourselves. The car ride home was much quieter as I was in the back seat, tearing myself apart. Was I really there? Do I remember the music? Did the girls love the show? It’s this “post-event” evaluation which leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
I have been reading up on “flow”, an idea of time passing by rapidly whilst you are doing something you enjoy. In Csikszentmihalyi’s words, flow is “a state in which people are so involved in an activity that nothing else seems to matter.” Another site tells us: ‘When in a flow state, people pay no attention to distractions and time seems to pass without any notice.” This really hones in on the idea of presence, given that these flow states mean you are solely focusing on one thing. For me, it’s writing, listening to music, playing videos games: escaping. It can be anything for anyone. An inspirational friend of mine takes great pleasure in swimming through ice cold lakes and murky depths: it screams “different strokes for different folks” entirely but the way she shares her inspiration and growth is something altogether magnificent.
Maybe we are present whilst we are engaging in something: it’s just that “time flies when you’re having fun” so it feels as though it’s over before it began. What does it really mean to be in the moment? Is it the feeling of nirvana whilst you are there, one you can barely recall when you’re back to reality? Is it mementos – photos, videos, fleeting memories – you can harken back to? Time passing by is inevitable but, when it moves so quickly you are barely there, it brings up the concern of what you are going back to when the party is over.
Everything ends, that’s a given. But why am I so unsettled with the thought of things finishing? Is there some strange, repressed notion of life which I can’t face going back to? I am happy (read as: “happy enough”) with so many aspects of life: marriage, home life, career, friendships, family. Things are great most of the time. And yet, this post-fun, emotional comedown leaves me reeling. It’s becoming its own anxiety: the feeling of dread when organising time with friends because it will soon be over. Will I be an active listener whilst we’re talking? Am I taking up too much screen time, per se? How long until I can leave? How am I going to stay present in these moments when I know that they will finish and I’ll crawl back to this feeling of emptiness?
Writing this, I feel present. It’s quiet here, and dark too. There’s magic in silence and darkness. I am not clock watching or word counting. I’m just remembering, feeling and writing. A small iota of hope comes from the knowledge that this will happen again: I can feel like this again. Life is just a series of events for everyone but you are your own main character. Be present. Listen. Talk. Cry. Laugh. Sing. And feel.
We should learn to look back on these moments with more fondness and less loss. They happened. We were there. And we can make new memories after. We just have to pull from our reserves – even when we feel empty – to make sure we can live new experiences again. We may feel one way whilst we’re in the eye of the beast and another when it’s over but it’s all swings and roundabouts, as my dad would tell me. I say that with a smile on my face as I stare at the pixelated, over-edited picture I took of Ellie Goulding all those weeks ago. Maybe she was wrong after all.
xo
HOW TO BE; 