Practices in Presence: The Land of AND

Years ago, I bought the book Presence: An Exploration of Profound Change in People, Organizations, and Society because its title promised to illuminate an approach to change that Tim Flood and I developed, based on the premise that staying completely within metaphors, an exciting and powerful way to bring about transformational change, requires full presence. 

But what is "presence"? According to the authors of Presence, pp. 13-14):

"We first thought of presence as being fully conscious and aware in the present moment. Then we began to appreciate presence as deep listening, of being open beyond one's preconceptions and historical ways of making sense. We came to see the importance of letting go of old identities and the need to control . . . leading to a state of 'letting come,' of consciously participating in a larger field for change." 

In other words, spontaneous presence is absent of all preconceived notions, all self-talk, all assumptions and beliefs. It is trust in a "knowing" that has nothing to do with logical efforts. This knowing is absolute, unmistakable, and has a kind of magical quality: "Wow! Where did that come from?"

As it turned out, reading the book influenced me with more than intellectual understanding, illustrated by something that happened when Tim and I were finalizing materials for the playshop, The Land of AND. To maintain presence, we planned a variety of improv exercises ("Say yes and . . ," "There are no mistakes"), envisioning small spiral notebooks on long ribbons around participants' necks so they could quickly flip to brief instructions for each new activity.

We used every kind of logic to figure out the length of the ribbon, how to attach a pen, etc., but no matter what we did, when testing a prototype, the ribbon pulled the spiral wire loose from the notebook. 

Finally, when we were feeling “brain dead” (a good thing, as it turned out), I started laughing hysterically. When I could speak, I said “If only they had pouches like kangaroos . . .” my internal judge translating the image as something silly.

 

But as I slept that night my self-critic also slept, and I awakened the next morning with the clear image of two-pocket folders that could be converted, with a little snipping, into “pouches.” At Office Depot, as if conjured up by magic, I saw a bin of beautiful, translucent blue, two-pocket folders – on sale for a penny apiece! 

We had our solution, and I have a potent reminder of presence.