At some point along the path of self-inquiry, mindfulness, or spiritual exploration, a subtle shift happens. What began as curiosity turns into effort. Presence becomes something to do. Awareness becomes something to achieve. And the simplicity that once felt obvious starts to feel strangely out of reach.
“I just want to be present.”
It sounds innocent enough. Even healthy. But for many people, this desire quietly becomes a new form of resistance — a refined version of the same seeking that caused the tension in the first place.
Not because presence is wrong.
But because wanting to be present often implies that this moment is insufficient as it is.
The Hidden Assumption Behind the Desire for Presence
When someone says they want to be present, there’s often an unspoken assumption underneath it:
“Something about my current experience isn’t okay yet.”
Presence becomes the imagined solution to discomfort. A future state that will finally feel settled, grounded, complete.
But notice what that does.
It places presence somewhere else — slightly ahead of now. It turns awareness into a destination rather than a recognition. And in doing so, it subtly recreates the very separation it’s trying to resolve.
This pattern mirrors a broader dynamic explored in our core article on why clarity often feels harder the more we understand: the moment awareness becomes a strategy, it stops being awareness and starts being control in disguise.
Presence Isn’t Missing — It’s Being Overlaid
Presence doesn’t disappear when the mind is busy.
It doesn’t leave when emotions arise.
It doesn’t vanish during distraction, anxiety, or thought.
What happens instead is much simpler: experience gets overlaid with commentary about experience.
The feeling of “not being present” is almost always the feeling of evaluating the moment rather than inhabiting it. The mind steps in and says:
- “This shouldn’t be happening.”
- “I should be calmer.”
- “I should be more grounded.”
- “I should feel more aware than this.”
And suddenly, the immediacy of experience is replaced with a project.
Presence isn’t lost — it’s being judged.
When Presence Becomes a Self-Improvement Project
The moment presence becomes something you’re trying to cultivate, it quietly joins the long list of things you think you need to fix about yourself.
It becomes:
- Another metric
- Another identity
- Another way to measure success or failure
“I was present earlier, but now I’m not.”
“I’m better at being present than I used to be.”
“I need to get back into presence.”
All of these thoughts revolve around a central character: the one who should be doing this better.
And that character — the manager, the improver, the observer trying to observe correctly — is precisely what keeps presence at arm’s length.
The Paradox No One Likes at First
Here’s the paradox that often frustrates people:
The more you try to be present, the more you reinforce the sense that you aren’t.
Not because effort is bad.
But because presence isn’t a state that effort can reach.
Effort implies distance. Presence implies immediacy.
Trying to be present assumes you’re not already here — which is an assumption that never actually holds up under direct observation.
Even the thought “I’m not present” is happening now.
Even the frustration about distraction is appearing now.
Even the desire to escape this moment is part of this moment.
Nothing has left.
Presence Includes the Feeling of Absence
One of the most overlooked aspects of presence is this:
Presence includes the feeling of not being present.
The restlessness, the checking, the self-judgment — all of it is already happening within awareness. Nothing needs to be removed for presence to be present.
But the mind doesn’t like this answer, because it doesn’t give the ego a job.
There’s no technique to apply.
No posture to correct.
No inner state to optimize.
Just the recognition that whatever is happening is already happening here.
Why Effort Feels Necessary (and Why It Backfires)
Effort feels necessary because the mind is conditioned to solve problems.
If discomfort arises, the reflex is to fix it.
If tension appears, the reflex is to manage it.
If confusion arises, the reflex is to clarify it.
Presence gets treated the same way — as a solution to a problem — rather than as the space in which problems appear.
But when presence is used as a solution, it subtly becomes another avoidance strategy:
- Avoiding uncomfortable emotions
- Avoiding uncertainty
- Avoiding the rawness of experience
Ironically, this effort to “stay present” often creates more tension than whatever was happening before.
The Difference Between Awareness and Monitoring
Many people mistake awareness for monitoring.
Monitoring sounds like:
- “Am I present enough?”
- “Did I just lose awareness?”
- “I need to stay with this.”
Awareness doesn’t monitor.
It doesn’t check in on itself.
It doesn’t need reassurance.
Monitoring creates a split: the watcher and the watched. Awareness collapses that split.
When monitoring drops — not intentionally, but naturally — experience becomes intimate again. Thoughts, sensations, emotions arise without needing to be managed.
Presence Isn’t Calm — It’s Honest
Another reason presence gets blocked is because it’s unconsciously associated with calm, peace, or stillness.
So when agitation arises, people assume presence has been lost.
But presence isn’t calm.
Presence is honest.
Sometimes honesty feels quiet.
Sometimes it feels messy.
Sometimes it feels raw, awkward, or unresolved.
Presence doesn’t edit experience to make it spiritual. It allows experience to be exactly what it is — including confusion, resistance, and desire.
What Happens When You Stop Trying
When the effort to be present relaxes, something unexpected happens.
Not fireworks.
Not bliss.
Not transcendence.
Just a subtle softening.
Thoughts still arise. Emotions still move. Life continues exactly as before — but without the added tension of trying to be somewhere else.
Presence isn’t achieved.
It’s noticed.
And often, that noticing happens only after the struggle to notice has worn itself out.
You Were Never Absent
This is the part that’s hardest to accept conceptually and simplest to recognize experientially:
You were never absent from your life.
You may have been distracted.
You may have been overwhelmed.
You may have been lost in thought.
But none of that required leaving the present moment.
Presence isn’t fragile.
It doesn’t come and go.
It doesn’t depend on how the moment feels.
The idea that you need to return to presence is just another thought appearing — right here.
Let Presence Be Ordinary Again
Perhaps the most radical shift is allowing presence to be ordinary.
Not special.
Not elevated.
Not different from daily life.
Just this.
The sound you hear.
The sensation you feel.
The thought passing through.
The desire to be somewhere else.
All included. Nothing excluded.
And in that inclusivity, the effort falls away — not because you made it fall away, but because there was never anything to hold up.
Closing Reflection
If this exploration resonates, it points toward a deeper inquiry explored throughout Proof That You’re God: the recognition that what you’re searching for is never found by becoming something new, but by noticing what was never missing.
The book doesn’t offer techniques for presence or methods for awakening. It simply invites you to notice the assumption that something needs to change before life can be met fully — and to see what remains when that assumption relaxes.
You can explore Proof That You’re God through DualisticUnity.com whenever you feel the pull to look more closely — not for answers, but for the space in which the question already lives.
