Adapting to presence

To be more present, to oneself and to the world, one must adapt their presence—it is an act of will. And this leads to a paradox: being fully present requires absenting oneself, which creates a potential space for transformation, thanks to an openness to the unknown.

Presence, from Dasein to Duende

What I call presence is a being-with-oneself, an awareness of one’s inscription in the present moment, an acceptance of receiving the present—that is, the gift of the present itself, and thus of one’s presence to oneself. This concept of presence, I adapt in my own way, drawing from my personal life experiences but especially from an analysis of the many guided experiences I facilitate for others, in which I have them work on presence and creativity. Creativity can only fully embody itself in a rich way for individuals if it is linked to a real presence to oneself.

This concept, developed in my own way, is naturally open to interpretations and uses beyond those I outline. It is a tool I propose, which might seem closer to personal development than to philosophy, for that matter. One might think, for example, of Eckhart Tolle’s book The Power of Now (1997), one of the great classics of personal development. Why should philosophy be only a purely mental exercise—that is, abstracted from the reality of the world? I also logically draw on the concept of Dasein (literally “being-there,” a situated, temporal, and engaged existence) proposed by Martin Heidegger in Being and Time (1927), as well as the Spanish concept of Duende (creative power in the instant, a moment of grace), so beautifully recounted by Federico García Lorca (Play and Theory of the Duende, 1933). What these notions share, including my own, is the positivity of presence. The level of quality of presence, like that of Dasein or Duende, would relate to a level of flourishing and emancipation, enabling both well-being and a form of philosophical fulfillment.

That is, thanks to these concepts, human beings would be collectively better equipped to understand their being-in-the-world and thus better contribute to their personal humanism and to humanism in general. I also posit that philosophy would be the art of developing one’s humanism through a deep understanding of the world’s stakes. Seen this way, philosophy encompasses all sciences (though this is not usually how it is viewed): mathematics, geometry, physics, chemistry, biology, and all the human sciences, from psychoanalysis to sociology, ethnology, or even anthropology. It seems interesting to me to approach a philosophical concept at the level of its relationship with all human constructions of knowledge and competence.

The Will to Transformation

Thus, the goal of philosophers, as well as coaches or psychologists—if we situate ourselves within this conceptual framework of presence—would be to accompany oneself and others in adapting to presence. We also start from the postulate that there is a kind of lack of presence, a symptom of life, and that life is perpetually improvable. This is only one worldview, which could itself merit discussion, of course. Can life be improved? Should we seek to improve life? Should we work to accept it as it is, or should we seek to transform it? But for me, the concept of presence as I propose it does not situate itself at the level of these questions. It situates itself at the level of one’s being, one’s sense of existence—which could also be seen as a very Western representation. Whereas in other philosophies, one might advocate the disappearance of the self in meditation, as a form of fusion with nature and thus a deep contact with our being rather than our having. Western philosophy can be criticized for this emphasis on having, if only because it is made of new words and new elaborations like mine, whereas in other visions—for example, yoga or mantras in certain cultures, or even in Catholic culture—the same age-old words, repeated, come to aid life. To my mind, the concept of presence I propose also includes this. What all these diverse cultures share is the goal of transforming oneself, of adapting to a better presence, as desired by each of these cultures. They all seem to me to start from the postulate that there is an improvable lack of presence, whether to merge with nature or to feel oneself exist.

Presence, Free Will, and Volition

What is, in my opinion, somewhat complex in this subject of adapting to presence is that it can only be nurtured from an existing presence—that is, from personal will. For example, in a classroom, if students are told to listen, if they are forced, they will not be fully present to themselves. They will be absent from their desire if they do not want to listen and are “listening” under threat. So, in this adaptation to presence, there is the central problem of free will, of choice. In psychoanalysis, for instance, it is known that the choice to consult a “shrink” already represents a large part of the journey. Then, there is guidance for adapting to presence, but it relies on a personal choice. Conversely, we can also see situations where, in a group of people who initially have no interest in something, they are guided by a facilitator’s proposal to adapt to presence. And in doing so, they may encounter their own desire, which in this case was not present at the outset.

But there is always a moment, whether beforehand or along the way, when the subject themselves takes charge of their choice to transform and to be more present, to be better present. They must therefore have normative references that may show them a path others have taken, which can support them.

Absenting Oneself to Enable Adaptation

I believe, for my part, that true adaptation to presence is a practice of the non-objective, the non-normative, a presence to oneself that allows for birth from emptiness, and that adaptation to presence, if it is a therapeutic process, works through the emptying of one’s presence, through an openness to the unknown. For transformation is always factored by an unknown: if everything is known, no transformation is possible. Because transformation is not about moving toward an external goal one has identified. Transformation is the transformation of oneself—it is openness to change, to the unknown, to risk.

Thus, adaptation to presence, in this idea of self-improvement—which I believe is relatively universally shared—is about cultivating a personal terrain that enables it, doing work that consists of absenting oneself to be reborn, to return, to transform, to adapt. It is therefore first seeking to cancel one’s presence, to open doors to the possible. As such, it is a situation of extreme vulnerability in which one can potentially be manipulated or abused. So, I believe that the work of adapting to presence consists above all in creating a context, a terrain for oneself that is as conducive, secure, and reassuring as possible. And once in this context, one must absent oneself by whatever means one chooses, thereby opening the doors to one’s adaptation to presence.

I realize that the way I describe this process of movement is quite conceptual here, but it is a method that can be applied in any type of situation or context—whether for oneself, by the place one chooses to position oneself to will transformation, or in a group, a family, an organization, or a therapeutic space.