If you ever want to make me feel inadequate, suggest to me that I “be fully present.”

For a long time, that was my aspiration. A thousand yoga and meditation classes drilled into my head that the highest virtue is to “be here now.”

I have no problem, in theory, with presence. One of the main themes of my work is to empower executives to tolerate their own thoughts, feelings, emotions, and urges.

I generally prefer presence to absence (except for some meetings). It’s the “fully” that’s been the problem.

Have you heard it a thousand times too?

"Be fully present." In meetings. In one-on-ones. In every conversation that matters.

It sounds right. Noble, even. Give 100% of your attention to the people or person in front of you.

But here's the problem: if you actually try to be 100% present, you become useless.

The Dining Room Problem

I’ve been to a bunch of events at Kripalu, a yoga retreat in New England. And one of the weirdest things I do there is mindful eating.

Mindful eating is one of those classic presence exercises. I sit down, nodding solemnly to my table mates, signaling that I’m an advanced spiritual being with barely any ego left.

No phone in my hand, no tablet in front of me. I gaze deeply at my food. I notice the aromas, the textures.

I silently thank the sun, the rain, the farmer, the trucker, the cook, the dishwasher, the accounts receivable clerk for the fertilizer company, the earthworms, the whole shebang.

I take small bites, chew carefully, notice everything.

It's beautiful.

Then someone repeats, “Can you slide your chair in so I can get by?" and I’m completely thrown. Earthworms and dainty bites out the mental window, replaced by a flustered annoyance.

It turns out that 100% presence for one thing means zero capacity for anything else.

That's fine —mostly — at a yoga retreat. It's a disaster in a leadership conversation where you need to listen, think, respond, draw on your experience, and track the bigger picture — all at the same time.

The 5% Witness

What actually works is something I teach coaches and leaders that sounds almost absurdly modest: keep about 5% of your attention on the fact that you are present.

That's it. A small, steady thread of awareness — I am here, I am paying attention — running quietly in the background. That lets the other 95% of your energy go where it needs to go: listening to what's being said, reading the room, connecting dots, formulating your response.

This is actually more like what experienced meditators do, for the most part. They don't white-knuckle their way to unbroken focus. Instead, they maintain a gentle witness — a part of their awareness that notices when they've drifted.

Where Leaders Lose Themselves

What happens without that 5% witness?

Sometimes, if the present moment isn’t engaging (because it feels unimportant or boring), you might catch yourself thinking about last night’s ball game or whether a double-perl stitch will work for the collar of that sweater.

More frequently, especially with leaders, something else happens. Something more insidious: autopilot.

On autopilot, you get so absorbed that you merge with your role, or the task in front of you. You’re so engaged that you’ve forgotten that “you are.”

You don’t notice your body. You don’t notice your breathing. “You the be-er” disappears and is replaced by “you the do-er.”

But wait, you might protest: this sounds like flow.

And that guy with the really long name says that flow is a desired state.

And sometimes it is.

Flow — all task, zero self-awareness — becomes a problem when there are other people in the equation, and their needs and goals and priorities are different from yours. And when your nervous system’s threat detection algorithm lights up.

This can look like:

• In a coaching conversation, you stop listening and start performing.
• In a strategy meeting, you stop tracking the room and start defending your position.
• In a difficult one-on-one, you stop being curious and start reacting.

Your witness goes dark, and you don't even realize it until later, when you start wondering what went wrong.

Here’s what went wrong: Your nervous system was running the show, and nobody was watching the controls.

That’s why allocating 5% of your awareness to mindful presence is so important; to notice your elevated heart rate, tensing muscles, and racing thoughts, and interpret those inner signals as a cue to slow down, check in, and recalibrate.

The Leadership Application

This is the inner game that separates good leaders from great ones. The leader everyone wants to work for is the one who can hold the full complexity of a conversation — your words, your emotions, the organizational context, their own reactions — while maintaining just enough self-awareness to choose their response rather than just having one.

That's what regulation looks like in practice. Not calm detachment. Not performative eye contact. A quiet, ongoing thread of I am here. I notice what's happening — in the room and in me.

5% awareness. 95% engagement. 100% effective. (Look at me doing math — Mr. Gonzalves, I apologize for asking, in 1978, when we were ever going to use percentages in real life. You were right.)

Want to build this kind of presence into your leadership?

In The Buoyant Leader, I explore how the inner game of self-regulation transforms how leaders show up under pressure — not through more effort, but through smarter attention. If this resonates, I'd love to hear from you. Find me at howiejacobson.com and let’s talk.

Now one of the main themes of my work is to empower executives to tolerate their own thoughts, feelings, emotions, and urges to be present with them. So I have no problem in theory with presence. In fact, I generally prefer it to absence, except for some meetings I've been to. It's not the presence that's the problem, it's the fully.

So what's the dining room problem? So I've been to a bunch of events at a place called Kapalo, which is a yoga retreat to New England. And one of the weirdest things I do there, and it's completely, um, optional and voluntary is mindful eating. So mindful eating is one of those classic presence exercises.

I notice the aromas, the textures. And then I silently thank the sun, the rain, the farmer, the trucker, the cook, the dishwasher, the accounts receivable clerk for the fertilizer company, the earthworms, the whole shebang. Oh, I take small bites, I chew carefully. I notice everything. It's beautiful. Then someone repeats.

Um, could you slide your chair in so I could get by? And I am completely thrown. Earthworms dainty bites out the mental window replaced by a flustered annoyance. It turns out that a hundred percent presence for one thing means zero capacity for anything else. And you know, zero capacity is mostly fine at a yoga retreat, but it's a disaster in a leadership conversation where you need to think, you need to listen to respond, to draw on your own past experience and track the bigger picture all at the same time.

That lets the other 95% of your energy go where it needs to go. Listening to what's being said, reading the room, connecting dots, formulating your response, and this is actually more like what experienced meditators do. For the most part. They don't white knuckle their way to unbroken focus. Instead they maintain a gentle witness, a part of their awareness that notices when they've drifted and brings them back.

Autopilot on autopilot, you get so absorbed that you merge with your role or the task in front of you. You're so engaged that you've completely forgotten that you are. You are present. So you don't notice your body, you don't notice your breathing. You the beer disappears and is replaced by you, the doer.

But wait, you might protest. This kind of sounds like flow. And that guy with the really long name says that flow is a desired state. Yep. Sometimes it is flow, which we can describe as all task and zero. Self-awareness becomes a problem when there are other people in the equation and their needs and goals and priorities are different from yours.

Your witness goes dark and you don't even realize it until later when you start wondering what went wrong with that interaction. Uh, here's what went wrong. Your nervous system was running the show and nobody was watching the controls, and that's why allocating 5% of your awareness to mindful presence is so important to notice your elevated heart rate, your tensing muscles, your racing thoughts, and interpret those inner signals in real time as a cue to slow down, check in and recalibrate.

So in my new book, the Buoyant Leader, I explore how the inner game of self-regulation transforms how leaders show up under pressure, not through more effort, but through smarter attention. If this resonates, I'd love to hear from you. You can find me@howiejacobson.com. Let's talk.