The Power of Pushing Pause
It has been a year of motion. I've been dreaming and scheming and bringing life to dormant ideas. In the midst of it all, I have been continually giving to the family that needs me. The roles of mother and grandmother exact a price. The role of caretaker and daughter of a dying mother is an even greater honor, responsibility, and toll.
It has been a year of non-stop motion. I am sure that even in my sleep, my body has been moving. The tangled sheets prove it. I know that my mind wakes up the moment my eyes open for there is much to decide, to plan, to accomplish.
BUT
I am beginning to hit a wall. Like a super slow motion visual, I can see my body collapsing into the bricks. Skin makes contact first, muscle folds in after and bones crunch to an end. With the crash, my forward projection will be halted, motion ceased, full throttle stopped.
The trauma of the sudden arrest will bring me to my knees. Weeping in pain from injuries and loss of hope, I will spiral into backward motion, losing the ground I have gained. Back to near the starting line, I will face beginning again. Retracing the route, recovering the advantage, restoring the possibility of dreams.
OR
I could know that I see what is ahead of me and I could choose now to slow it down, bring it to a halt with ease, push pause. Breathe.
Why is it that we only value forward motion and fast forward is worth even more? Racing to the top, filling up every moment of every day, we quantify and justify our busy lives with the thought that it is all necessary. Who would we be without the prestige of a busy life?
We don't see the value of negative space. We don't understand the necessity of the rests. We don't measure the power of the pause. With no space between, without a moment to breathe, constant motion exhausts the body, mind, and spirit.
The up and down, the ebb and flow, the in and out create the intricate beauty of a life. It is the highlights and the shadows, the contrast, that bring depth and meaning. The high and the low, the loud and the quiet, the hard and the soft offer oppositional composition and harmony.
But more often than not, we only value the push, the striving, the quest. We are told to live our lives out loud not in quiet. We are encouraged to dream big not small. We fear being soft and vulnerable. We want to fill our resumes and our transcripts with more, more, more. No one knows how to have downtime. In the moment of nothing, we cry, "I'm bored."
But there is power in the pause, in taking time to let life marinate, in putting things on the back burner to simmer. Flavor takes time.
Paying attention to what I see as the ultimate end of this path I am on, I know that if I don't slow down, I will crash. It is time to make time for the slow, to allow space for the mind to meander, for the body to rest.
I think it begins with allowing blank space on the calendar. I don't have to fill up every moment of every day. Saying no to one thing means saying yes to another and it is time to say yes to myself and my care.
However, I think it a deeper beginning may be required.
I am feeling drawn to slow, slow movement in everything I am doing. Life is inviting me to enter slow motion. Allow each movement to be thoughtful and deliberate. Even now as I am typing these words, I am not pushing myself to the limit of my 80 wpm typing ability. Instead, my hands are in a slow waltz over the keyboard
An Authentic howl