Christmas Presence

Staying present in your work isn’t complicated. At least, not in the ways I've alluded to in previous posts. It doesn’t require a life-changing mindset shift or some intricate productivity system. Most of the time, it’s about doing the simple, practical things we overlook because they seem too obvious.

Like turning off your phone.

Or better yet, leaving it somewhere you can’t reach. The glove box. A drawer in the next room. The other side of town, locked in a safe. The point isn’t where you put it; it’s creating distance between you and the constant buzz of notifications.

Distraction isn’t just annoying—it’s corrosive. How can we stay present in our work when our phones keep dragging us into someone else’s world? A colleague’s latest project. A client’s urgent text. The endless scroll of social media. When we let those distractions in, we’re telling ourselves—whether we mean to or not—that what’s happening out there is more important than what’s in front of us.

It’s not.

Presence starts with choices like these. Simple. Obvious. But hard to follow through on, because we crave distraction. It feels easier, safer, to let our attention wander. It gives us an excuse. It’s procrastination and self-sabotage. I could have done better if I wasn’t so distracted.

We tell ourselves this story because giving your all to the work in front of you means there’s no escape hatch, no one else to blame if it doesn’t go perfectly.

But the truth is, we can’t do our best work without that focus.

For me, staying present also means setting boundaries around my time. Creating blocks of focus, so I can give my full attention to what matters most. I can plan the next project in the morning, before I start working on the current one. Or I can work on the logistics—emails, designs, materials—at the end of the day, after I’ve laid my stones.

What I don’t want to do is bounce back and forth between tasks. Starting the current project. Calling a vendor mid-way through. Checking Instagram for “inspiration.” Writing half an email to a future client while a half-built wall waits patiently for its next stone.

At least, that’s the ideal. I often fall short. Incredibly short. I’m as or more prone to distraction as everyone else. And I’m an all-pro procrastinator. That’s why I’m writing this. That’s why I started this blog—as an instruction manual to myself.

We call it multitasking, but really, it’s just chaos. It’s a way to avoid giving your full focus to anything. And in the process, everything suffers.

The work deserves better than that.

So do we.