All objects of our experience appear as there.

Between the arising of anything and our experience of it, there is a gap. From that gap, there and then are born.

Take a few moments to observe your own experience:

That object over there,
That sound,
That view,
That sensation,
That pain,
That thought,

Each appears to you—never as you.

Even substituting “this” for “that” does not bring us any closer to awareness itself. It merely denotes proximity. This is still something observed, still distinct from the one who is aware.

“This” is not aware of itself.
“I” am what is aware of “this.”

That, this, there—none of these are ever truly here or now. They are distinguishable from awareness precisely because they can be noticed by it.

All observation happens at a distance. The distance may be vast or microscopic, but it exists nonetheless. The time delay may be obvious or imperceptible, but there is always latency between any object and the experience of it.

Even sensation—the most intimate form of perception—arrives slightly after it arises.

In contrast, here and now are not objects at all. They are not things we perceive. They are the nature of present awareness itself.

Notice how no thing is ever fully here or now, no matter how close it seems. What is immediate is not the object, but the awareness in which it appears.

This immediacy is what we usually overlook.
And yet it is the only place we ever actually are.

The task of First Person Awareness is simple, but not easy: to remain anchored in the only space that is always here, now. And when that anchor is inevitably lost, it is simply re-established.

Depending on your point of view, this may sound like an exercise in linguistic semantics or a life-altering revelation. When it truly lands, it becomes the latter.

First Person Leadership begins here—literally.

Leadership does not fail because of external factors.
It fails when awareness is abdicated.

The good news is that even when awareness is lost, it is never gone. It can always be found again in the next instant—here and now.

First Person Awareness is not a phase of leadership development, nor a competency to be mastered once and moved beyond. It is an active and ongoing practice of meeting experience as it unfolds, moment by moment.

From this orientation, a different quality of leadership becomes available.

A leader rooted in present awareness can notice the space between stimulus and response—echoing Viktor Frankl’s insight—without rushing to fill it. They can remain steady amid ambiguity without forcing premature resolution for the sake of comfort or control.

They recognize what appears: sensations, emotions, thoughts and circumstances. They know these are not who they are. These experiences arise within awareness, not as it.

From this clarity, a quiet steadfastness emerges. Not rigidity. Not performance. It is a grounded stability that reinforces itself, arising as naturally as the present moment.

A leader who embodies present awareness is rare—and noticeable.

Not because they demand attention, but because they no longer need it. There is a quiet coherent steadiness in the way they meet others. This presence often registers before it is understood. To some it appears as magnetism, to others it is a calm clarity—subtle, grounded, and unmistakably real to those who are paying attention.

This form of presence exists outside dogma or systems. It does not depend on structure, ideology, or role. It meets each moment as it is, allowing leadership to respond rather than react.

The First Person Leader draws strength from the only place it is ever available—the here and now. From this ground, clarity and resilience are not forced traits, but natural resources.

Notice the here and now, right now.

When attention drifts into there and then—into past or future—use your greatest gift: awareness itself. Return to what has never been absent.

This is not an achievement.
It is a remembering.

First Person Awareness: your original birthright.