Presence Is a Verb
Everyone wants a village, but are you really a villager?
There is a specific feeling of comfort that overwhelms you when someone shows up. Not to fix anything or say the perfect words, but simply to just be there for you. Presence has a way of silencing the internal dialogue in our minds like a hand on your back reminding you you’re not carrying this life on your own.
The feeling of being supported by your chosen village and showing up for them just the same. This is a feeling that I don’t think is talked about enough. The one that hits you when a familiar face walks into the room, or when someone rearranges their whole day just to stand in your corner. It’s grounding, gentle, almost holy.
A lot of people love the feeling of being shown up for, but rarely pause to reflect if they’re offering the same grounding for others. The same “I’m here” energy to the people in their lives who need it. I’ve realized how often people wish for the kind of presence that could steady them… without noticing whether they’re offering that same kind of presence to the people who quietly need them too. Once I started paying attention to that, I couldn’t unsee it. Presence was everywhere from then on. Moments that showed me, firsthand, what it means to truly show up for someone.
The Expectation
I’m fortunate to have parents that support and are present in just about everything me and my three siblings do. Any sporting event, choir concert, piano recital, graduation, first shift at a new restaurant, you name it… they were there. If they couldn’t make it happen, they would recruit a grandparent, aunt, uncle, or family friend to fill their spot. When I was much younger, I didn’t realize the impact of this. It wasn’t until I was in high school and beyond that it really clicked for me how much effort that took amid all the other stressful things that they were going through, yet they still made it happen. Because of this example, it has translated tenfold into not only how I try to show up for others, but also knowing that’s the kind of support that I deserve from anyone.
Showing up and supporting isn’t—and shouldn’t be—a dramatic act or tally board. That’s a type of toxicity I’m not referring to. I’m talking about steady presence that made something inside of me shift. Luckily, because this is how I try to show up for people who mean the most to me, just like my parents did, I’ve attracted some really fantastic people. The type of people who also understand how important the art of showing up is.
The Marathon Moment
These feelings came up not long ago during the NYC Marathon. My friend, and fellow villager, Tory had been training for just 14 weeks when she showed up on race day. I coordinated with her husband to make sure we were at the right mile markers for Tory to be able to find us. The first was a mile 17 and second was mile 23.
When I saw Tory coming down 1st Avenue, I was overwhelmed with extreme pride. THAT’S MY FRIEND. As she was getting closer to where we were set up, I felt a sense of home seeing her. We both live busy lives, all over the map, but remain close and show up for each other whenever we can. Seeing her in the middle a huge event she had been training for, I felt so proud that she had pushed herself in ways I simply couldn’t imagine. I was in awe of her.
It was on a whim that I was in the city, so to be able to watch her accomplish something so huge felt like divine intervention. Her joy in what she was doing and also the determination in her to complete something so big inspired me and took “just showing up” to a whole other level. The smile on her face when she saw us was a reminder of how solid our friendship is and hopefully reminded her of how loved she is. It didn’t make the miles shorter, but maybe it made them feel lighter.
Showing up for someone in their big moments can feel like the smallest act and the biggest gift all at once. There’s power in witnessing someone you care about accomplish big things. It strengthens your village and inspires you to keep going in what matters most—when you see your fellow villagers doing the same in their own lives.
Presence
That kind of inspiration doesn’t just come in the form of big moments that feel like a huge gift. Sometimes it comes from the people who show up in what seems like ordinary ways. The moments that are “just because.”
About a month ago, my parents flew down to see me for the whole weekend just to be with me. There was no agenda, no big event, and nothing specific that they wanted to do. The only objective was to spend quality time together.
We sometimes can get so caught up that showing up for someone needs to be this whole production. That we have to do the most for them to feel seen—to make it memorable through tangible gifts or grand gestures—when often it’s the quiet act of being present that speaks loudest.
What seems like a small gesture actually encapsulates what I view as the biggest gift we can give someone—presence. Once you can see this clearly, you can’t ignore the tiny, consistent way people show up. The ones that don’t make a big splash but still leave a mark.
Intention > Attention
There’s another layer to showing up that’s even softer. The small, steady gestures that weave themselves into your life without fanfare. The ones that rarely get acknowledged but linger the longest. It lives in the quiet, almost invisible acts that shape our relationships.
It’s that friend that texts you out of the blue simply because you came into their mind. It’s the small trinket you pick up because you think someone might find joy in it. It’s showing up for someone without them asking because they needed it. No context or explanation necessary.
The intention behind these small acts often matters far more than the attention from grand gestures. This kind of presence is like mini deposits of love that compound over time. They represent consistency and steadiness in a relationship—and truthfully, they’re what keep the foundation strong enough to withstand any storm life will inevitably throw at us.
We often overlook these acts because they can slip under the radar. They’re woven into everyday life, which ironically, makes them even more meaningful. They create safety in friendships and reassurance that we’re not doing life alone. They strengthen trust without uttering a single word. Small gestures towards someone gives us evidence to look back on when life gets hard, and they are truly the anchor of relationships.
They provide a sense of calm that settles into our body. We don’t realize they’re happening until we need it. Seeing presence show up in such quiet ways made me think about the bigger picture-what it does for us, how it changes us, and why it matters more than we realize.
What Presence Actually Does
Presence, in all its forms, has a way of speaking louder than any words ever could. It communicates something far deeper than support or encouragement. It tells us that we are worth showing up for. A reminder that someone is choosing us and choosing to care. Presence from someone else is sometimes all it takes to keep going.
There’s a steadiness that settles in when someone is simply there. It grounds you in a way that nothing else can. It softens the edges of whatever you’re carrying, and it creates a quiet confidence that you’re not in it alone. Someone is standing beside you, shoulder to shoulder, in your corner, even if nothing else is said out loud. Presence can provide a subtle surge of energy that could be all we need to continue progressing forward.
It’s truthfully in the heavier moments, the ones we rarely speak out loud, where presence becomes its own unique lifeline. It doesn’t erase the struggle of hardships, but it helps carry the heavy load. It can give you just enough courage to take the next step, breathe a little deeper, and keep going when the road is looking extra long. Presence offers us a stability we didn’t know we needed—until it arrives unasked, expecting nothing in return.
Words can comfort, advice can help, but presence carries. It steps into the moment with you instead of standing on the sidelines offering commentary. Presence stays when things get messy, and it listens without trying to fix. It speaks in a language that feels more trustworthy than anything else someone could say.
We’re all wired and long for this type of companionship. We want to feel seen, chosen, remembered, rooted for, and cared for. Presence comforts the part of all of us that is deeply human—the desire the matter to someone else. Even in the smallest of ways. This is one of the few things that feels both powerful and simple, rare and accessible, intimate and universal.
Recognizing this so many years ago made me look at presence differently. It’s not just something that fills me, but it’s something I’m meant to pour back out. We often crave this kind of steadiness from others, and makes me think of how easily we forget that others might be craving it too.
The Mirror
Presence isn’t just a one-way experience. We’re designed for community and compassion, and that includes giving the kind of care that we are craving to receive. It doesn’t have to be perfect every single time—just consistent and intentional.
It’s easy to sit back and hope that someone shows up for us in the big moments and also when we need it. It’s human to long for support, steady energy, and to have someone in your corner. But somewhere in that longing it’s easy to overlook the people in our lives who might be quietly hoping for that same energy from us.
Presence flows best when it moves in both direction. Not in a scorecard or an expectation, but as a natural exchange of care. Showing up for someone else without being asked, without needing an applause, strengthens something in us also. It reinforces the kind of person we want to be.
Most of us aren’t asking for grand gestures. They’re often hoping for something simple: a check-in text/call, a moment of being remembered, a sense that they matter beyond convenience. I’ve seen how good feels when someone shows up for me, and I’ve learned how meaningful it feels to do the same for others. Both experiences teach the same lesson: showing up doesn’t require much, but it makes a lasting impact. One we often don’t notice until much later.
Presence is less about effort and more about intention. Less about doing the most and more about noticing the people who could use a reminder that they’re not flying solo in life.
These thoughts have stay with me, especially as I think back to that moment on the marathon course—the look, the relief, the steadiness, that washed over someone I care about simply because we were there.
Where Presence Matters Most
Thinking back to that moment in New York, I can still picture the look on Tory’s face when she saw us—tired, determined, relieved all at once. Presence didn’t change the miles she had to run, but it could’ve potentially changed the way she felt running them. That’s the thing about presence, it won’t finish the race for you. It makes the hardest parts feel a little lighter. It reminds you that you’re not carrying the weight alone, even when the finish line still feels far away.
We all have our own mile 17s and mile 23s where we could really use a familiar face in the crowd. And we all have people in our lives who might be quietly hoping for the same from us. Showing up doesn’t require perfection or planning or grand gestures. It asks only for willingness. A steady, intentional presence that says, “I’m here. Keep going.”
Presence doesn’t fix anything, but it changes something for someone. And most of the time, that’s enough. Mile by mile, gesture by gesture, presence is what carries us forward. Keeping showing up for people. It matters more than you think.
If any of these words resonated with you, and you’d like to support me while I keep writing more of these reflections,
You can buy me a coffee here: Buy Me a Coffee🤍
Or… You, me, and a few honest thoughts every week. Let’s make it official, shall we?
Paid subscribers get the full spread — exclusive guides, deeper essays, and bonus posts