The Power of Being Present
Don’t Anticipate…
Participate.
Let’s start in college…
For many years, I was part of a church youth movement that held weekend retreats. There was always this electric anticipation — especially for first-timers — to know what was coming next. What are we doing after this session? Where are we going tonight? What happens tomorrow?
And every single time, the answer was the same: "Don't anticipate. Participate."
Yes, it was cheesy. We knew it was cheesy. But it worked. It helped us quiet the part of ourselves that always needed to know and plan and be in control — and it allowed us to actually be there. I've carried that phrase with me for over twenty years. And right now, in this season of my life and my business, I need it more than ever.
Warm-up is non-negotiable.
As a dancer, warming up before every class or rehearsal was a MUST. You would never walk into a studio and jump straight into leaps without stretching first. There was a sequence — familiar and grounding — that prepared your body for what was about to be expressed. Without it, you were off. The movement didn't flow the same way.
My jewelry studio time works the same way now. Before I pick up a blade or a texture tool, I have to arrive. Some days that means a few deep breaths and rolling out tight shoulders. Other days it means clearing a little space on the table, making tea, and letting a soft playlist ease me out of whatever I was carrying before I sat down. The magic doesn't come the moment I sit down — it comes when I actually settle in.
The clearest proof I have of this is a memory from college: I used to scrapbook for hours in my mom's basement, surrounded by paper scraps and adhesive and photos, and before I knew it the sun was coming up. I had been there all night. Completely absorbed. Completely present. I'd give a lot to get back to that feeling — not the all-nighters (my body is done with those), but that total immersion. That joy in the process with nowhere else to be.
Here’s what I know about my best work…
It only happens when I'm actually here. When my mind is still three steps ahead — on the next deadline, the next market, the next thing that could go wrong — I'm only half making. The piece knows it. I can feel the difference.
This became undeniable during my recovery from endometriosis surgery in December 2020. My world went very small and very still. I was in pain, worn down, caught in a cycle of flare-ups and waiting and not knowing. And in that stillness, I found polymer clay. At first it was just something to do with my hands. But it became a place to let go — of control, of worry, of the relentless forward planning — and just be with the process. Not making toward an outcome. Just making.
That's when I understood what presence actually costs, and what it gives back. It costs the illusion of control. It gives you your whole heart.
When I am fully in it…
When the world fades and it's just me and my hands and the clay — something comes through in the work that I genuinely cannot manufacture when I'm distracted. A curve that's a little more considered. A color combination that surprises me. My fingerprints in the most literal sense: the small ridges pressed into the surface because I was actually paying attention.
When you wear something from Anam Cara, I hope you can feel that. Not in a precious way — but in the way you can sometimes sense that something was made slowly and with care. That it came from somewhere real. That's what I'm after every time I sit down.
The world isn’t going to slow down…
Or ask us nicely to be present. The hustle will keep humming. The to-do list will keep growing. But I keep coming back to that college gym, that cheesy answer, that genuine truth: don't anticipate. Participate.
Be here. It's the only place the work actually lives.
I’m curious…
Do you have a ritual that helps you get present before creating, or before anything that matters? I'd genuinely love to know. Drop a comment or come find me on Instagram.