David G. Benner's Blog, page 50
October 19, 2013
Presence and Absence: 2
Presence and Absence – 2
Tolerating absence is, in essence, trusting presence – even when the one who is present to us is not physically present. Think of the two year old gradually loosening his clinging grasp to the leg of his mother as they dance around the house. Slowly he allows himself longer periods of independent movement but, at least initially, these bursts of independence are only made possible by periodic rushes back to mother for emotional refueling. Over time he ventures further away for longer and longer intervals. Initially he needs his mother to be in sight to keep his anxiety manageable but soon he is able to tolerate absences that include not just physical separation but his mother being unseen. He has begun to cultivate trust in the stability of presence that is not dependent on sensory confirmation.
Some people fear absence so much that they refuse to allow sufficient space in their togetherness to cultivate this sort of stable knowing of presence. I’ve known couples that were so clinging in their attachment that they have never learned the benefits of space in their relationship – benefits to both the relationship and to each of the partners. The same enmeshment has even more disastrous developmental consequences when it occurs between a parent and a child.
The absence of stable knowing of presence also manifests itself in the fear of solitude. The capacity to make productive use of solitude presupposes this sort of stable foundation of presence. Solitude isn’t simply for those who are shy or introverted. The only way to pass through loneliness to the richness of inner life that develops within regular periods of solitude is to be able to enter that solitude with the full-orbed accompaniment of presence – both presence to oneself and the knowing of the presence of other people and things that mean that one is not, in fact, alone. Solitude does not mean living apart from others; it means never living apart from presence to one’s own self.
This is one of the many potential gifts that can come from a silent retreat. Stripped of the distractions to knowing presence, those who survive the first couple of days of silence invariably begin to awaken to powerful previously unnoticed forms of presence. I have seen people who believed that rooms had been repainted because the colors were more vivid. Others have asserted with conviction that the kitchen obviously hired a new cook because the food suddenly became so much tastier. When told nothing in the environment had changed they were incredulous. It is hard to believe that changes of that magnitude and sensory impact are within us – that we are simply becoming aware of things previously unnoticed. Or put in other terms, what is happening is that people are beginning to be present to things that had all along been present to them. They were experiencing an awakening.
Adapted from a forthcoming book, provisionally entitled Presence and Encounter (Brazos Press) ©Dr. David G. Benner
October 5, 2013
Presence and Absence: 1
Presence and Absence – 1
I have long been nostalgic about presence. Nothing lingers for me like it. Nothing dissolves the sense of distance between me and another person like it, and nothing makes me feel alive and at one within myself in the way it does. There is, consequently, nothing that I value more highly than experiences of presence and the possibilities of authentic encounter associated with them. But I know I am not unique in this. The longing for presence may, in fact, be the most basic human desire.
Freud tells the story of a three-year-old boy crying in a dark room of a home he was visiting one evening. “Auntie,” the boy cried, “talk to me! I’m frightened because it is so dark.” His aunt answered him from another room: “What good would that do? You can’t see me.” “That doesn’t matter”, replied the child. “When you talk, it gets light”. What this child was afraid of was not the dark but the absence of someone he loved. What he needed to feel secure was presence. We all need the same and knowing presence is the ground of this basic sense of safety for all of us.
There are few things more important in life than presence. It is no exaggeration to say that it is essential for human survival and thriving. Think, for example, of the infant’s basic need of the presence of an available and attentive caregiver. But while infants need to be fed and cared for it is alarmingly clear that this can be offered in minimalist ways that leaves the infant fed but not nurtured. Infants need more than food to thrive. In order to develop psychologically and spiritually they also need steady, dependable, loving presence. Seeing ourselves reflected in the loving eyes of someone gazing at us as we gaze at them is the indispensible foundation of psychospiritual health and maturity.
In the absence of this reflective mutuality of the presence of someone who is totally present to them, people go through life somewhat like that little boy in the story told by Freud. They may no longer cry out in the dark but the distress they experience when confronted with threats of absence can involve almost unimaginable levels of existential panic. Knowing the gift of someone who is fully present to us is, therefore, the foundation of the subsequent ability to tolerate absence. And it is also the foundation of our ability to be present to our self and to others.
Adapted from a forthcoming book, provisionally entitled Presence and Encounter (Brazos Press) ©Dr. David G. Benner
September 21, 2013
Pondering Presence: 4
Pondering Presence – 4
Presence lifts us above the sphere of particularities and separateness into a world of integral wholeness. It is always is experienced as a unitary whole. Think, for example, about the experience of sitting on the top of a hill, far from the polluting lights of a city, gazing at a dark, starry sky. Unless you are an astronomy buff, your experience will not likely be one of thought and analysis but will be one of singular, holistic absorption. You will experience the presence of the starry sky, not your thoughts about it.
The more pure and uncontaminated the presence, the more it is experienced as a whole. The power of presence seems to simply gather up all the separate and isolated parts that normally are our focus and wrap itself within a harmonious whole. Complexity is enclosed within a shroud of singularity and wholeness.
Often this sense of wholeness brings with it a surprising sense of increased vividness to everything being experienced – possibly a sense of being more present to your experience, even to yourself. Sometimes this includes a sense of being at one within your self. Occasionally, this sense of oneness may even include the person who offers the presence (or others who share it), possibly even involving a sense of oneness with everything that is. Frequently it produces a sense of intimacy that strains the usual subject-object duality. Such an experience might also leave you in awe before the mystery of life. And because it frequently leaves you feeling more whole and integrated, it often feels like an experience of standing on sacred ground.
This is reason the language of presence is so frequently on the tongue of mystics. This is how the saints feel in relation to God, and how they experience God with them. It is the experience of totality and union in the midst of shattering fragmentation and separateness. It offers fleeting moments of knowing that stand in stark contrast to what our senses tell us so much of the rest of the time.
And this is also why presence has such transformational potential. This transformational potency is present in each act of presence but is particularly present in the encounter of two or more people who are present to each other. John O’Donohue describes such moments of presence as a sacrament - a visible sign of invisible grace. The source of the grace – or, if you will, the gift – is the Transcendent Presence that is mediated by more immanent forms of presence. Although that source may be invisible (sometimes even beyond belief) and the presence ephemeral, the gifts of the encounter can be readily seen by anyone who has eyes to see.
Adapted from a forthcoming book, provisionally entitled Presence and Encounter ©Dr. David G. Benner
September 7, 2013
Pondering Presence: 3
Pondering Presence – 3
Everything and everyone has presence. Just think of your experience of things and people when you step back of your thoughts about them. Think, for example, of your home. It communicates something about itself that is there to be noticed by anyone who enters it with awareness. Or think of people you regularly encounter and notice the presence they emanate – not simply their behavior or their personality but the aura they give off.
Martin Heidegger said that being is presence. Whatever else that this means it suggests that in some way presence is a basic property of simply being. Everything that exists has presence by virtue of its being.
Being is more straightforward for rocks, trees and black holes than it is for humans. Inanimate objects are never tempted by false ways of being. They are aligned within their being and consequently, their presence is less ambiguous. This is also true for non-human living beings – such as, for example, animals and trees – all of which remain closer to their nature than is true for most humans. Consequently, their presence is also more pure and singular.
For humans, living our truth is much more of a challenge. First, we are profoundly alienated from our being. We forget what it is to stand in awe of being itself, and of our being in particular. We are lost in doing and tempted to believe that there is nothing more to us than this. But this separation from our being also reflects our separation from Being itself. At the core of our soul is an ache that is only answered in knowing both our being and the Ground of Being. But that ache is easily ignored and misinterpreted and consequently we seldom are aware of this most fundamental level of our alienation.
A second way in which living the truth of our being is more complicated for humans than non-humans arises from the fact that humans alone have the capacity to create false ways of being. As children we learn to try on various identities as we attempt to discover a satisfactory way of being in the world. Even though we usually lose awareness of doing this after adolescence or early adulthood, we continue to try and create our self through the first half of life. But the self we create is a persona – a mixture of the truth of our being and the fictions we spin as we attempt to create a self in the image of some inner fantasy. The consequence of this is that our way of being in the world is so false and unnatural that our presence is thoroughly ambiguous. It is no wonder that we find the presence of most people so clouded as to be not worth noticing. And it is no wonder that a truly unclouded presence is so luminous and so compellingly noteworthy!
Adapted from a forthcoming book, provisionally entitled Presence and Encounter (Brazos Press) ©Dr. David G. Benner
August 24, 2013
Pondering Presence: 2
Pondering Presence – 2
Like all the most precious things in life, presence is ineffable. It seems to defy simple definition. But let me say what I mean by the term. By presence I refer to the awakening that calls us into an engagement with some aspect of the present moment.
Presence makes us feel alive, or perhaps better, it lets us know that we are alive. It demands that we notice and, in so doing, the distance between whatever we notice and us is suddenly reduced. We feel connected – sometimes more connected than might make us comfortable but no longer are we on the outside looking at life from a distance. Suddenly we have passed through the looking glass and are inside and part of life. We are involved. We are engaged. We are participants, not simply spectators.
Presence is elusive, but it can come to us with astounding force. Notice how a wisp of a scent may pull us into the presence of a beloved – a presence that may be both subtle yet powerfully real. A great work of music can similarly draw us into the presence of the artist – often into a period of time and world dramatically different from our own. An experience may invite us to be present to the world and to ourselves. A fleeting memory may instantly draw us into awareness of the absence of one still powerfully present to us.
Sometimes, the presence of another commands our attention and demands our own presence. The Gospels tell the story of Jesus teaching in the temple and describe those hearing him as being astounded because he taught as one having authority. But what was the nature and basis of that authority? I can’t imagine that it came from polished delivery, command of his material, highly developed rhetorical skills, self-confidence, or any other personality trait or thing that he was doing. It sounds to me like the authority of presence.
Even relatively unclouded, presence can shine with a brightness that can be disturbing. But it is a good disturbance. It is like an alarm going off. It is an invitation to awaken and be present. Its authority is only troubling when we want to remain asleep!
Adapted from a forthcoming book, provisionally entitled Presence and Encounter (Brazos Press) ©Dr. David G. Benner
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