How Present Are You?
by Irvine Nugent
Last week, I sat across from my husband Fred at dinner, nodding along to what he was saying. But I wasn't there. Not really. My mind was rehearsing a difficult conversation I needed to have the next day—crafting responses, anticipating reactions, playing out scenarios that hadn't happened yet.
When he paused and asked, "So what do you think?" I had nothing. I couldn't remember a single thing he'd just said.
The look on his face—not anger, but disappointment—stopped me cold. Here was someone I love, offering me his thoughts, his day, his presence. And I was somewhere else entirely.
That moment reminded me why I created the reflection questions you'll find below. Because presence isn't just a nice idea or a mindfulness buzzword. It's the foundation of every meaningful connection we have—at work, at home, in conflict, in joy.
"The present moment is the only time over which we have dominion." — Thích Nhất Hạnh
Presence isn't something we achieve once and hold onto. It's something we practice, lose, and return to—sometimes dozens of times in a single day.
The questions below aren't meant to judge how "good" or "bad" you are at being present. They're invitations to notice patterns. To become curious about where your attention goes when it slips away from the moment in front of you.
As you read through these, resist the urge to score yourself or feel discouraged. Instead, ask: What am I noticing? What wants my attention here?
Ten Questions to Explore Your Presence:
1. I have a tendency to live in the future, projecting into tomorrow, next week, or even years from now.
2. I spend much of my time thinking about the past, replaying conversations or reliving events.
3. While talking with someone, I think of how I'm going to respond rather than listening to what they're saying.
4. I allow my cell phone to interrupt whatever I'm doing.
5. I often hope for something better or different, or worry that something worse will happen.
6. I find myself always busy, with never an empty or spare moment.
7. When I'm feeling uncomfortable in a situation, I change the subject or distract myself.
8. I find it difficult to maintain eye contact when I'm talking with someone.
9. Rather than staying with my emotions and naming them ("I am feeling..."), I attempt to alter or avoid the feelings.
10. When I'm with my family or partner, we watch programs we don't really care about rather than interact with each other
What Now?
If you noticed yourself in several of these patterns, you're not broken—you're human. Our minds are wired to protect us from discomfort, to plan for the future, to analyze the past. Presence isn't about eliminating these tendencies. It's about recognizing them when they pull us away from what matters most.
In my work with teams navigating conflict, I've learned that the quality of our presence determines the quality of our outcomes. The leader who can truly listen—not plan their response, not defend their position, but actually hear what's being said—transforms tension into dialogue.
The team member who can stay with discomfort instead of deflecting it opens the door to genuine understanding. But it starts with noticing. With catching ourselves when we've left. With choosing, again and again, to come back.
Thích Nhất Hạnh's wisdom reminds us that this moment—right now—is the only one over which we truly have dominion. Not to pressure us into perfection, but to invite us back. Again and again.
Where might you practice returning to presence today? In a conversation? During a meal? In a moment of discomfort you'd normally avoid?
The practice isn't to be present all the time. It's to notice when you've left—and to come back.
The next dinner conversation? I was there