The challenge of being 'present'

I have a short attention span. No surprise to those of you who know me! At times my attention span is a strength; other times it’s an area that I have to consciously focus on. Whether at work or home, it means that I have to work just that little bit harder to be ‘present’ in the moment. I have come to learn how important this is, particularly when it matters the most. For example coaching, talent/leadership development or resolution of challenging business or family issues. Many of the breakthrough moments occur when you pay full attention to what is happening in the moment; not just what is being said. The tone of the words, the body language, what is not being said etc.

I know I’m not alone here. You only have to glance around a meeting room to observe the number of people attending to their smartphones or laptops - rather than the discussion in hand - to see the challenge of being ‘present’ in the moment. Try it out tomorrow. Count the number of people you see exhibit these or similar behaviours during the day. My guess is that you will run out of fingers to count on pretty quickly.

Whilst it’s an area I do consciously focus on, every now and again I am reminded - usually pretty starkly - as to why it’s so important.

Saturday 21st Feb, 2:30pm. The last time this happened to me.

Basingstoke Town FC Vs Bishops Stortford FC. I was stood in a queue of a well known fast food restaurant, waiting on a burger and fries for my son who had run off to grab a window seat. I glanced over to check he was OK. “Kick off is only half an hour dad!”, he shouted across the room. He was beaming from cheek to cheek.

“You going to the football?”

The question had come from someone in front of me in the queue. It was from a boy, who must have been about 8 years old. I acknowledged the question with a quick “yes” before moving my attention to my phone. Another email had just arrived, joining the 30 or so unread items in my inbox. Whilst I didn’t routinely carry my work phone with me at the weekend, things had been pretty busy of late and I had made the decision to take it with me that afternoon.

“Do you know me?”

Same boy. This time I replied politely yet quickly, trying to cut short the conversation. “Sorry mate - no”. I glanced over to my son who was now happily watching the cars pass by outside the window. I was mentally urging the staff to speed up. However, there was still no sign of the burger and fries.

“I’ve been in the papers and on TV this week”

The boy again. Being honest, I was now becoming a little irritated. This time I dismissed the remark without breaking my gaze from the phone. My inner voice was cursing the restaurant staff for taking so long with my order.

“How much is a milkshake?”

The boy was persistently clinging to the conversation and it was clear that I couldn’t shake this one off. I glanced at the menu on the wall and confirmed that the the five pounds the boy was brandishing would be enough to pay for a milkshake.

Then it happened. Out of the blue. It demanded my full attention.

The unknown boy in front of me in the queue lifted his top. Right there, in middle of the fast food restaurant. He proudly showed me a tube protruding from his chest.

“This is where the drugs go - they made me lose my hair”

Floored by this turn of events, I suddenly noticed something that had escaped me until this moment. The boy had no hair on his head. Over the next few minutes he went on to tell me that ‘pure’ foods were the best for him given his cancer. He explained that his cancer was a rare form and that this had generated the recent press coverage. He went on to tell me that others' were 'much worse off' and that he was 'just getting on with it'.

In a few short minutes, from an unknown boy that I had largely ignored to this point, I glimpsed levels of bravery, optimism and wisdom that belied his years. I was touched and inspired. Deeply. Suddenly, the things that had been keeping me up at night seemed less relevant. Coming at the end of a tough few tough weeks, personally and professionally, this brief exchange somehow made my own worries and fears seem more manageable. From a young boy, aged about 8 years old, I had gained a fresh perspective that was both raw and deeply humbling.

A couple of hours later as I watched Basingstoke Town trudge off the pitch having lost the match, I couldn’t shake the conversation I’d had with the boy that afternoon. Weeks later, it’s still with me. I’m convinced it will stick with me for some time to come.

The challenge and opportunity of being ‘present’.

But for the determination of that young boy a few weeks ago, this special moment would have passed me by. Worse still, the perspective gifted by this moment would have been lost in time.

It’s left me with a heightened appreciation of something I already knew to be true. To be at your most effective, whether at work or home, you need to focus on being ‘present' when it matters the most. Present in body and present in mind. Without this, you risk missing moments of insight that have the potential to profoundly shape your understanding of the world and the people around you.

So, next time you are tempted to reach for your smartphone or laptop during a meeting, think of the young boy I met that afternoon. Make a commitment to be ‘present’. I know I will.