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the presencepulse
— a newsletter for conscious minds. Every Sunday morning, you'll get 1 guiding tip to recognize, understand, and accept the power of your presence in less than 4 minutes.
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Amiss are the moments not captured for pride to be felt.
The die is cast. The ink dries. The ledger rips and cries. The antithesis of a life lived is a retrospective abysmal in its recognition yet holds firm in a world barely keeping itself together.
In two separate calls this week, my Georgetown MBA diploma hanging behind me came to the rescue. It is written in Latin which no one can read. Yet its call beckoned. It made the introduction on my behalf.
It said too many things even though it sat idle and static in the background. It told a story about my pedigree and signaled an achievement, a community, and more.
Silently, it spoke.
It shaped an identity. It built a common connection for others to lean in. In its recognition basked a familiarity that echoed beyond its frame and semi-refractive glass reflecting my screen as I look at you.
”You” change in every call. This week alone more than seven which I have never met before most in a one-on-one setting. Not a single encounter was the same.
The signal though was received. The connection was deeper. And the ink comforted a certainty of a road walked and trusted.
If that frame was removed, would it all disappear? The sad truth is that yes, it would.
We hang our breath on what we see. That is not a sin. Until we find a cure for human nature, the ledger keeps us honest and wields the power to influence and move us in the fields of achievements and trust badges.
One of those calls, was rescheduled so many times it was forgotten for short of a year. Interestingly that one had no image. It was a phone call. The screen was black. No one to see only a voice to hear.
Liberated to walk around and drive, it carried on not taking notice of where the space was but the connection didn’t miss a beat. In it, a question rose, that gave my step a pause.
I didn’t have it recorded so I am paraphrasing but something along these lines: What do you feel when wins are acknowledged? I wasn’t sure how to answer so a nudge I was given. Is it pride?
I was absolutely certain it was not that. But would that be so bad? Or have I forgotten those moments so much so that I could not recognize their feelings?
And then it dawned on me how many of those instances have been lost to time not inked in the mind or on paper so that they could be remembered.
And what if we do not nurture pride to capture the integrity of those stories, what do we lose? I hate to admit it but we do lose. Accepting it because I want it to change not because I want it to linger.
Yet meanwhile, we all need our fix. The validation and the recognition especially become prevalent when the road decides to take a fork and meet new eyes. And in those eyes, trained have we instilled the ledger as the source of truth.
And it is a pity. For one day the cry of the ledger will no longer hold attention and we have to evolve beyond it. Exhausted has been the landscape crying for a reprieve where pride is felt in honor of deeds inked and left amiss in those that failed to be captured.
Not a single second passes where I regret being present in every one of those encounters sharing countless stories some implied and others not. The retrospective might have been forgotten but life is worth living in present mode regardless of what is captured.
Until next time,
Carlo