Discovering the Power of Compassionate Presence

Many years ago while I was studying for the bar exam to become a licensed attorney, a dear friend gifted me a book titled, “Radical Self-Acceptance”. 

I was pretty miserable at the time, struggling with daily visits from my inner critic, who I imagined dressed up in an unforgiving judge’s robe, peering down at me and sneering,

“What are you doing trying to become an attorney?”

I flipped through the book and quickly dismissed it.

I wasn’t ready yet.

It would take many more years—and experiences like reading The Power of Now and sitting my first 10-day silent meditation retreat—before I truly understood what my friend was offering me in that moment: a doorway to something deeper.

One insight continues to return to me again and again, especially in moments of challenge:

 👉 The power of compassionate presence.

Through years of mind-body awareness training, I know awareness of the body is an anchor when you're caught in a spiral of stress or self-doubt.

But awareness alone is only part of the shift. 

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞—meeting my pain, confusion, or stress with warmth instead of judgment.

It sounds simple, but it’s not always easy. In the rush of daily life, we become masters of distraction -compartmentalizing hard feelings just to get through the day.

And yet, if we don’t make space to truly feel, that pain finds other ways to speak:

In the way we react to feedback.

In the stories we tell about ourselves.

In the way we brace against the next unexpected turn.

That’s why I now intentionally create space for compassionate presence—especially when I’ve been pushing through. Sometimes, it's as simple as pausing before sleep and asking myself:

 🌀 What am I feeling right now?

 🌀 Where do I feel it in my body?

 🌀 What do I most need in this moment?

What makes this presence compassionate is the quality of how I pay attention.

Without compassion, presence can feel like staring into a storm without shelter.

With compassion, I feel how my presence becomes a sanctuary.

Compassionate presence says:

“Yes, this is hard. And I’m here with you.”

 “You don’t have to push this away or pretend it doesn’t matter.”

 “You are worthy of care—especially right now.”

It feels like the inner posture of a wise friend.

Or the soft gaze that doesn’t flinch at pain. 

When I bring this energy inward—toward my own anxiety, anger, shame, or fear—I begin to untangle the inner knots that keep us stuck in reactivity. I shift from fight-flight-freeze to feel-hold-heal. 

I am fortunate to receive formal training in compassionate presence as part of my teacher training with the Center for Mindful Self-Compassion. If I can be a guide to you, it would be a gift.