What is Presence?
Presence is a folded-over stretch in the middle of your day when you realize your hamstrings are tight.
Presence comes during the third garden walk of the week when you realize you are watching a lily bloom in stop-motion.
Presence is a bird who, hearing your song, warbles back a throaty response.
Presence expands to fill the room when you take the hand of a troubled sister, it zings through the body with that first bite of a home-cooked meal.
Presence flops in your lap, looking very much like a giant Siamese, to purr loudly at you until you pay attention.
Presence is taking the goddamned time to floss.
I chose a small chunk of garnet to represent Presence. It’s solid. Dark and murky. Sort of impenetrable until you hold it up to the light of self-awareness, and the ruby glow begins to pulse with your own heartbeat.