I wasn’t there.
I lived in Roma at the time, with a view of St. Peter’s dome. But I wasn’t there for the historic event to see the famous white smoke rise from the Sistine chapel to signal that Pope Francis had risen to the top of the pack.
Despite my pleasure to be where I was (in Zurich, with lovely people, to help facilitate a global leadership programme) and my non-religious status, I did find myself agreeing to those who said “it is a shame you weren’t there”.
Not being there.
Which made me muse …that in fact what is more of a shame is all the times I am not…here.
Which brought this poem about presence.
A poem
How often are we here.
Really here.
Like fully in the moment.
Absolutely in the now.
Not digging like an archaeologist
Trying to find clues to events of the past
Nor speculating like a futures trader
Imagining all those scenarios in time too fast.
Not being a wrestler of one’s thoughts
Nor a storyteller of the mind
But being an observer of it all
Non judging, compassionate and kind.
Not being an auditor of feelings
Nor a commentator on the brain
But being in the present
Accepting it all, from joy to pain.
Being fully aware and tuned to
What is going on inside and around
Not being the duty-person-in-charge
Of thoughts lost and found.
Not filtering through past experiences
Nor trapped in an attitude or belief
But seeing it all as if for the first time
Such freshness brings wonder and relief.
Not being on automatic pilot
But open to choices the moment provides
Being attentive but without attachment
Free of judgements, shame or otherwise.
Yes, such beauty is to be discovered
When we can really stay in the now
Remaining curious to what emerges
Being able to surrender and allow.
So although it may be fun to be there
It cannot compare to the richness
Of what it is to be here.
So let’s practice what comes to us naturally.
Our presence.
Is the greatest present we can give.
To ourselves, each other and the earth that is our home.
Photo by David Monje on Unsplash