The Paradox of Presence

At the heart of witnessing lies a paradox: in seeking to come closer to ourselves, we risk stepping away. In the longing to be fully present to another, we may inadvertently split, adopting a position of observer rather than participant. True witnessing, as illuminated by Martin Buber's "I and Thou" and refined through the practice of Authentic Movement, is not a removal from experience but a deepening into its living pulse. It is a practice of being-with, without retreat.

Buber’s "I and Thou" points us toward an orientation where the "I" encounters the "Thou" without objectifying or distancing. The "Thou" is not something to be seen, analyzed, or used; it is a being met in sacred immediacy. Witnessing, from this perspective, is an act of radical relational presence. Yet, within human consciousness, the very capacity to be aware introduces the possibility of stepping back, of making the Thou into an It. This is the fragile edge upon which the witness must balance.

Authentic Movement brings this paradox into the body. In the studio, the mover follows inner impulses with eyes closed, while the witness sits in silent attendance. The witness is tasked not simply with observing, but with feeling, receiving, allowing the mover’s presence to touch them without falling into analysis or judgment. However, the act of "watching" can easily become "monitoring," and "being with" can shift subtly into "evaluating." Even the most skillful witnesses must attune to the moments when they slip into distancing . . .the subtle contraction of breath, the tightening around the heart . . . signs that the I/Thou field is being replaced by I/It.

This split is not merely cognitive; it is somatic. When the witness splits from the field of direct encounter, the body often reveals it first: a shift in tone, a loss of fluidity, a dullness in perception. The practice of witnessing in Authentic Movement demands a continual return, a re-softening, a re-inhabiting of the sensing, feeling body. In this way, the witness practices not just "looking at" the mover but "being with" them, while simultaneously staying tethered to their own embodied experience.

When witnessing turns inward, when we attempt to witness ourselves, the paradox deepens. To observe oneself risks creating an internal dyad: the doer and the watcher, the mover and the monitor. If the witnessing becomes rigid, it can harden into a split consciousness, reinforcing shame, judgment, or dissociation. Instead of integration, we encounter alienation. The inner witness, if distorted, becomes an inner critic.

Yet there is another possibility: to cultivate an inner witness that is somatically grounded, relationally oriented, and suffused with tenderness. This witness does not stand apart from the moving self but accompanies it, breath by breath, sensation by sensation. It is a practice of staying with oneself rather than watching oneself or merging with the experience and losing the observer all together. In the relational field, this quality is mirrored and nurtured by the outer witness, who models the possibility of presence without judgment.

True witnessing, then, is not an act of stepping back but an act of stepping closer. It is a somatic surrender to the immediacy of experience, tempered by an awareness that remains fluid, porous, receptive and kind. It is a living discipline of meeting . . . oneself, the other, the moment . . . without seizure or separation.

In a world entranced by analysis and mastery, the practice of witnessing calls us back to the art of encounter. To the living, breathing paradox where we are both self-aware and self-immersed; both distinct and united; both the one who moves and the one who, tenderly, sees.