Presence is the Work: A Love Letter to the Tired and Sensitive Soul Craving Presence

Beneath the Doing, There You Are.

Dear reader,

A week ago, I wrote this in my journal while sitting under an oak tree in my friend’s front yard in Pennsylvania. The sun was warm on my face, the birds were singing, and for a brief moment, everything felt still and peaceful.

I’d just wrapped up my month-long house sit in Atlanta and was in between places—both physically and emotionally. Maybe even in my soul. And that moment under the tree felt like a small breath inside a larger storm I didn’t quite know was on its way.

Love letters from past versions of me.

As I sit at the small writing desk in my room at a quiet Airbnb in Vermont, I’m in a very different place—literally (I’ve travelled 1,110 miles in a week) and figuratively (my soul travel worn and far from the oak tree and sunshine where this letter was born).

One top of my recent travel, the last few days have brought unexpected challenges, nervous system triggers, moments of deep exhaustion, and a sense of emotional burnout that’s hard to name and even harder to “fix.” I’ve felt low, unsure, tender. A far cry from the emotional and spiritual highs I experienced during my time in Atlanta.

There’s nothing particularly wrong, yet everything feels raw.

My nervous system hasn’t yet caught up to my surroundings and so I slept in until 1:00 today (a very rare occurrence in my life). My body must have really needed it. As I find myself drifting in and out of tearful spells and moments of self-negotiation about what I need most; eating toast with peanut butter and an apple on the porch, and doing not much more than simply existing–I find myself returning to this entry.

And the quiet, exhausted, travel worn whisper inside me that said: share it.

Sharing this writing feels like a quiet act of nourishment. A small offering to myself and to you, in a moment when my mind and body can’t do much more than just be.

I’m not sharing this journal entry because it offers answers, but because it feels like a thread—one I needed to pick up again today. A reminder from my past self to my present self. A reminder I suspect you might need too. May it nourish you wherever you are in your life, and in the season currently passing through your soul.

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Presence Is The Work

When was the last time you just were—just listened, watched, breathed, rested…existed?

When did you last see that it was raining outside or about to storm and decided to throw your silly little caution to the wind and run out into it like you were barefoot and twelve again? Forget the rain jacket, forget the umbrella! You don’t need it.

And when was the last time your soul felt so alive that you knew you could pass away right now and still feel that you had, at least one last time…truly lived?

Can you recall when you last did anything that made you feel free?

Played. On the swing set. On the living room floor. On a passion project you’ve been putting off and putting off again?

Stopped. To smell the flowers growing in someone’s garden on the street corner you normally rush past. To lay on your bed and let the feelings bubble up?

Ate. The seasonal berries that grow in abundance during this time of year. Or bare minimum, checked your hunger level and responded to it with care?

Do you notice such opportunities anymore—or have you noticed that play, pause, and simple pleasure have been packed away and collecting dust in the nostalgic memories part of your hippocampus? Or worse, forgotten in the noise of your amygdala constantly sounding the alarm?

Our world moves fast. Our society move fast. Our work, fast. Our car, fast. Our emails and text messages and cups of coffee, one after another. The urgency and never ending entropy of everyday life. So many problems to solve. So many needs to meet. And so little time. So, so little freedom. To just be yourself. To just be with yourself.

Not to mention the people, places, and parks nearby that you love beyond the doing.

When was the last time you just...were?

I’m not saying you’re doing anything wrong. Far from it. In my understanding of life, we’re all just doing the best we can given the knowledge and tools we have. In my book, you’re never doing anything wrong. And if you are? All you have to do is look around and you’ll find everyone else messing up just as much. We’re human.

No, it’s not about doing more or fixing anything. It’s about this:

It’s about presence. Presence is the work.

And here’s what else–you know. You know when something’s off, don’t you? Maybe it comes to you as a quiet inner voice that lives in the back of your head or in the hollow space of your belly whispering at you from time to time. You need rest. You’re tired to the bone. You creativity is waning. The ones who truly matter need more of you.

You need more of you.

I get it. I truly do. In the endless chase all around us, it truly feels like there’s no time. No time to just stop, pause, take a deep breath… relax. People, places, things, projects, planning– all of it urgent like the white rabbit running by Alice– on our way to find the next thing that needs our attention—NOW, yesterday, a week ago!!

It feels like doing the work has become your every day. All of your routines dance around it, while the rest of life seems to dance without you.

You’re not doing anything wrong, my friend. But you know something is wrong.

Before we go on, I just want you to take a deep breath. Inhale for 6. Exhale for 7.

It is a lot to take in, the reality many if not most of us live in–where every single hour of every single day has a plan, a practice, a pressure penciled in. Where the nervous systems has to constantly fight for its right to life through yet another breath work practice, another meditation, another self-care routine that just feel like more work.

A world where we lose not just the forest, but also the trees and are definitely not getting enough Vitamin D, Vitamin P (pleasure), and Vita, in general.

If you feel me, here’s your permission slip to just STOP and honor what your body is saying in the here and the now. This is the work you actually need to be doing.

As recovering chronic doer just like you in a season of constant change, here’s what I’m learning: your presence is the work. No matter where you are, simply being is what matters the most at any given time. Simply feeling. Simply existing.

Not the thing you get to after everything else is done. Not the reward at the end of the to-do list. Presence is the nourishment underneath it all—the breath beneath the hustle, the root beneath the routine.

It’s what your body is truly craving (when you find yourself plowing the pantry).
It’s what allows rest to settle in (when everything feels so unsettled).
It’s what gives space for your creativity to return, your nervous system to soften, and your heart to speak again (when the walls seem to be closing in from every direction).

And I know… it can feel impossibly hard to slow down and just be when the world keeps moving fast. You’re afraid if you stop, you’ll miss out (and FOMO is the worst for us recovering doers!)

But even a single pause—one breath, one moment of stillness, one slow bite of toast on the porch, one good slobbering mess of a cry on your pillow—is enough to begin coming back to yourself. It’s not about the big steps and giant leaps when it comes to presence, it’s about tiny ones.

The next thing you need. The little bite to eat. The moment of collapse when all you can do is close your eyes and breathe. The glance out the window at the sun in the leaves when there’s not a cell in your body that can conjure the energy to go outside.

Because you don’t need to do more to be whole–you’re already whole.
You need to be more with what’s already here more.

This is when your nervous system starts to catch up.

And when that happens, you’ll feel yourself again. That’s what true presence is.

And I’m not just speaking from the mind here, I’m speaking from the body, the heart and the soul. As I prepare myself in this sacred pause of my own life for what’s next—more travel, more letting go, more cycles of death and rebirth, more leaning into the unknown.

In this sacred space, I keep returning to my truth: Presence is the work. Not just a nice idea, but the reason. The point. The medicine.

When you can simply be that, you might still be moving, but you’ll finally be home.

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Thanks for reading my little journal entry friends. I hope it offered soothing and nourishment for wherever you are in your journey and guided you out of any confusion about what you need to be doing. You don’t need to do anything. You just need to be here. Right here. With whatever is present for you.

💭 So tell me, what would it look like to let yourself be exactly where you are today—without rushing to change or fix it? I’d love to hear your reflections in the comments.

As for me? I’ll be grabbing my pint of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream and watching the rest of Wicked-Part 1 with my good friends, Ben and Jerry.

With love,
Leah