I was walking in the forest today, filming a video message for a dear friend. I was so focused on what I was saying that I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings. My AirPods were in, my attention was elsewhere, and I was thoroughly distracted.
Then something moved in the woods to my left.
It took my brain a few moments to register what I was seeing. A coyote.
My immediate reaction was fear. I even turned around and started walking in the other direction for a moment. My mind had already jumped to the possibility that this creature was going to attack me, before I'd had a chance to assess the situation.
The coyote had run away. It was almost certainly more afraid of me than I was of it.
But something about the experience stayed with me. I wondered how differently I might have responded if I'd been walking in presence, open to the woods and whatever might cross my path. Would I still have been startled? Probably. But would my mind have leapt so quickly to danger? I don't know.
What I do know is that the experience brought me back. I stopped recording, put my AirPods away, and continued along the trail. I started paying attention to the sounds and movement in the trees. I could feel my body settling, reconnecting with the world beyond my own thoughts.
And it struck me how much of our lives we spend somewhere else.
We're checking our phones, listening to podcasts, planning what comes next, or replaying what already happened. Even when our bodies are in one place, our attention is often miles away. Our senses are taking in information, but we're barely engaging with it. We miss the subtle signals and details that make up the texture of being alive.
I wonder how much of the anxiety and unease we experience is compounded by this disconnection from the present moment. When we're not taking in what's actually happening, our minds have room to fill in the blanks. We jump to conclusions, anticipate danger, and react to possibilities as though they're already happening. We can end up feeling threatened by something our minds have imagined, even when the reality in front of us tells a different story.
I'm not suggesting that presence eliminates fear or that we should ignore our instincts. My startle response served a purpose. It got my attention. But once I could assess the situation, I had room to respond to what was actually happening rather than the frightening story my mind had begun to tell.
That coyote was an alarm. An unexpected interruption that pulled me out of my head and back into the flow of life. What a gift!
We've become so accustomed to distraction that we can forget what it's like to give ourselves fully to the moment we're in.
Presence isn't something we have to create. It becomes available when we stop giving so much of ourselves away to distraction. It's simple, really. And yet, in a world that constantly pulls our attention elsewhere, it isn't always easy.
So consider this a gentle alarm. A little reminder to pause, look up, feel your feet on the ground, and come to your senses. Life is only ever happening right here. We can always come back, with or without the coyote.