Hi ,
Sometimes it feels like we’re out there searching — looking for something that’s missing, pushing forward down a dusty path, wondering when things will really change.
But sometimes real change isn’t about finding something new.
It’s about noticing what’s been there all along.
Imagine walking that dusty path for years — only to one day look down and realize the path you’ve been on the whole time is made of diamonds.
Learning presence is like that.
It’s a struggle, perhaps one of the essential pursuits a human can begin.
At first, it might just feel like you’re trying to do something new — a little awkward, a little clumsy.
Like sitting down at a drum kit for the first time.
You don’t know much about rhythm yet.
You’re fumbling, unsure of how all the pieces fit together.
But you stick with it — a little at a time — and something starts to shift.
After a few days of practice, you know a LOT more about rhythm than you did before.
After a few weeks, your sense of timing sharpens.
You’re still a beginner — but compared to where you started, you’ve moved miles.
And then something bigger happens — something you couldn’t have predicted.
One of your favorite songs comes on.
And for the first time, you don’t just hear the melody or the lyrics —
you feel the heartbeat of the song.
The backbeat is so deep in the pocket — so perfect —
it’s not just part of the song.
It is the song.
You felt it before, sure.
But now you can really hear it.
And it lights you up.
And once you hear it, you can’t un-hear it.
But it doesn’t stop there.
Incredbily, you start to notice rhythms everywhere in expected ways:
- The steady pulse of the dishwasher motor
- The drumbeat of feet climbing stairs
- The stutter of a water sprinkler
- The tires trymmically thumping over the bumpy road
You thought you were learning to play drums.
But what you really found
was the whole world of rhythm — hidden in plain sight.
I remember being entranced by the sounds of the engines on the Bemerton Ferry here in the Seattle area.
They were making a remarkable metallic ryhtme that had two or three repeating “phrases” worthy of casting a song to.
For 10 minutes I stood there enjoying it while noticing the seaguls with Mt Rainer in the background across the waters of Puget Sounds.
It was on of many private, delighteful moments one can have when your senses are attuned in this way.
Presence is like that, too.
You think you’re just learning a few mindfulness practices.
You think you’re just trying to communicate a little better.
But as you deepen into it, a different world starts to open.
You notice emotions underneath words.
You feel connections growing where there used to be distance.
You catch small, beautiful moments you used to walk right past.
And it changes you.
And it changes the conversations you have.
Not because you “achieved” something — but because you noticed something that was already there.
And that something opens doors to better choices in creating connections and enhancing conversations/
The richness of life — in your conversations, your work, your relationships — is here.
Now.
Waiting for you to see it.
You don’t have to create it.
You don’t have to wait for someone to give a title or certificate.
You just have to notice.
And noticing is exactly the skill that mindful presence helps to unlock.
More soon.
Stay present — and remember:
There are diamonds at your feet.
– Brett
PS.
If you’d like some help finding them, let me know.