Of Presence

CW: death (pets and humans)

This weekend is one of the rare weekends where I really don't have anything "to do." I mean there is always something to do, but there's nothing scheduled in the agenda. I don't have to facilitate a #FirstGenPLN chat, the disability reading group has not started yet, students first assignment is not due for another 2 weeks, and I am pretty caught up so far with lesson prep.

These types of situations are both a blessing and a curse for me, but at the moment I am going to take the blessing part because honestly by the time Fridays come around I am so exhausted that any weekend of nothingness right now is a wonderful thing. I read two books today; the first I finished this morning and it was Laziness Does Not Exist by Devon Price. It was recommended by folk in the Trauma-Aware Universal Design for Learning group I started and I am glad I read it because it allowed me to reflect on presence. In particular it allowed me to reflect on how part of the exhaustion I am feeling is that during the week I am fluctuating between states of hypervigilance and states of deferred presence, and I am sure I am not alone; let me explain.

Being in society right now is hard, and there is a sense of hypervigilance that takes over every moment I am in public (which I limit to work and a quick trip to the neighbourhood farmer's market on Saturday). I am making sure my mask is on tightly, I am hyper aware of who is in my periphery when there is a group. Being out of my house has become an exercise in  "once I finish X, I can then be in safer space Y." This mental calculation is exhausting, and goes from that hypervigilance to a deferred promise of the ability for presence "once X is done."

I note this because I know I am not alone in this feeling; I see it expressed on Twitter daily, from students, instructors, and staff. I see it in the response to the thread about assigning too much reading that has been floating around Twitter this weekend. There's a lot about capitalist structures that makes being present really difficult, and this is something that Price mentions in his book. It is at the heart of hustle culture, where the incredible cost of living and cost of supports have folk looking for ways to supplement any income they may have. The more you are looking for the next gig, the less you are present in the places you happen to find yourself. This is reality for so many people right now. Students in your class with a full course load and a part time job, sessionals/adjuncts looking for another course to help with the bills. The systems are set up for deferred presence; you get to be in the moment only when, well only when you don't have to worry about a thousand other things (i.e. never).

But, you can try to do what Price suggests, and what I tried to do this morning which is force presence. When there is a lack of presence that is how people get hurt, that is when you get they "hey how are you?" questions and not waiting for the answer before walking away or starting on another thing you need to discuss with the person. We owe it to ourselves and to others to be present for folk. So I left on my short trip to the farmer's market down the street saying to myself that I was going to try to be as present as possible for the whole 45 minutes I was out of the house. And I did, except, I also remembered how presence forces us to acknowledge feelings that are uncomfortable.

So I am walking down the street, and I see a neighbour I don't know walking what seems like a small dog on a leash. As I get closer I realize that it is not a small dog it is in fact a cat, and I start to smile because I remember how I used to walk my cat on a leash as well. As I approach the neighbour I say, "hi, I used to walk my cat like that as well" (look at you Ann being present, having a conversation with a stranger with a cat). 

Neighbour is very excited that someone is appreciative of his cat's skills "oh, that's awesome" he says "why don't you walk him any more?"

Oh, Ann thinks, this is why presence is hard, I remember this feeling, "oh um, cause he died."

"Oh I am so sorry" says the neighbour. 

(Okay Ann don't cry in front of the stranger) "what's your cat's name?" 

"Spike, his name is Spike" 

"Well Spike it was really nice to meet you; you are very cute. Have a good day" as Ann walks away quickly so that she does not cry in front Spike. 

This is of course why deferred presence is easier. It is easier when you are not paying attention to the cat on the leash. It is easier when you are half listening to what is going on because then you don't have to feel what is happening so deeply, but it also means you may say the wrong thing at the wrong time. It is easier to be busy every weekend so that you don't give yourself time to be present and reflect on how you are feeling, really, which is very lonely, and how much you miss your cat. 

I wanted to talk about presence today and show how hard it is to be present, and how sometimes being present means you cry because you miss your cat. I try to be present and I know that the last 3 weeks with the shift in my schedule I haven't been, or at least not as present as I usually am (which since I believe in and support trauma-aware framing is pretty present). The pandemic has shifted folks' ability to be present, and some just couldn't be present in the same way anymore for whatever reasons. I wanted to talk about presence today also because it is important to acknowledge that student's presence is not going to be the same either, and that is okay, and your pedagogy needs to acknowledge that too. I wanted to talk about presence because others need that presence if you can give it. Like today at the market when I gave one of the vendors a hug because I knew her father died a few weeks ago and she is grieving. I know she appreciated me being present in that moment, that we could chat, that I cared, that I was not just there for her delicious pies, but I wanted to know how she was doing, really. 

Being present is hard, but it is also part of caring for, and being care(full) of others. If you are having a shift in your ability to be present and want to share, I'd be happy to listen. As I say I know I am not alone, and I think it is important that we note this before the slew of "kids these days" tweets start.