The Power of Presence
I believe in the power of presence. I was recently
reminded of this belief when I and several other Red
Cross volunteers met a group of evacuees from
Hurricane Katrina. We were there, as mental health
professionals, to offer "psychological first aid."
Despite all the training in how to "debrief," to
educate about stress reactions and to screen for
those needing therapy, I was struck again by the
simple healing power of presence. Even as we walked
in the gate to the shelter, we were greeted with an
ardent burst of gratitude from the first person we
encountered. I felt appreciated, but vaguely guilty,
because I hadn’t really done anything yet.
Presence is a noun, not a verb; it is a state of
being, not doing. States of being are not highly
valued in a culture which places a high priority on
doing. Yet, true presence or "being with" another
person carries with it a silent power -- to bear
witness to a passage, to help carry an emotional
burden or to begin a healing process. In it, there
is an intimate connection with another that is
perhaps too seldom felt in a society that strives
for ever- faster "connectivity."
I was first hurled into an ambivalent presence many
years ago, when a friend's mother died unexpectedly.
I had received a phone call from the hospital where
she had just passed away. Part of me wanted to rush
down there, but another part of me didn't want to
intrude on this acute and very personal phase of
grief. I was torn about what to do. Another friend
with me at the time said, "Just go. Just be there."
I did, and I will never regret it.
Since that formative moment, I have not hesitated to
be in the presence of others for whom I could "do"
nothing. I sat at the bedside, with other friends,
of a young man in a morphine coma to blunt the pain
of his AIDS-related dying. We spoke to him about his
inevitable journey out of this life. He later told
his parents -- in a brief moment of lucidity -- that
he had felt us with him. Another time I visited a
former colleague dying of cancer in a local hospice.
She too was not awake, and presumably unaware of
others' presence with her. The atmosphere was by no
means solemn. Her family had come to terms with her
passing and were playing guitars and singing. They
allowed her to be present with them as though she
were still fully alive. With therapy clients, I am
still pulled by the need to do more than be, yet
repeatedly struck by the healing power of connection
created by being fully there in the quiet
understanding of another. In it, none of us are
truly alone.
The power of presence is not a one-way street, not
only something we give to others. It always changes
me, and always for the better.
Debbie Hall has been a psychologist in the
Pediatrics Department of San Diego's Naval Medical
Center for 12 years. She also volunteers for the
Disaster Mental Health Team of her local Red
Cross.Her article appeared on the NPR "This I
Believe" series, December 26, 2005.
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