Emily Dickinson wrote, “To live is so startling it leaves but little room for other occupations” yet how easy it is to be more startled by our occupations than living our lives. We slide into the demand of our daily requirements, although all of the ancient traditions advise observation–the power of pause—in order to act rather than react.
The power of pause allows us to trust the skies to clear, the fog to dissipate. It is the quiet courage of the heart resonating throughout our bodies while our heads consider whether or not to act. The power of pause requires us to listen as if we were hearing for the first time. It is that crisp, that charged.
The power of pause resides not in analysis but in awareness, a reach into the unknown. It requires us to empty our minds much like Randall Jarrell’s bored, sick child who entreats existence, “all that I’ve never thought of think of me.” It is a trusted leap from comfort to change, embarking on the voyage in to all that we are.
Within in each one of us, there is a unique, natural rhythm to living our lives. Only we can discover our own flow, our tributary that connects us to all life. It is a “startling” discovery, not lending itself to a life of daily lists or to the inertia of self-absorption but to commitment without being attached to its outcome. We take a breath, go “all in” and we’re in the moment.
Rather than outcome, we focus on the emotions not ruled by ego–compassion, gratitude, love, and joy–for they emerge from the thoughtfulness requisite to the power of pause. We go within ourselves to discover the best we have for the world outside of us and then deliver.
The power of pause requires us to quiet ourselves, to allow the storm of the world to swirl round the calm eye of our lives. In the stillness, we discover who we are beyond the business of the world of to-do lists. In the moment that it takes to breathe, we feel the spark of us–our own light–reveal our way.
There is a well-known story regarding two scientists who travel halfway around the world to meet with a Hindu Sage, eager to hear the Sage’s thoughts on their theories. They meet in the Sage’s garden. He pours tea and continues pouring although the cups overflow with the tea.
Finally, one of the scientists says, “‘Your holiness, the cups can hold no more.’ The Sage stops pouring and says, ‘Your minds are like the cups. You know too much. Empty your minds and come back. Then we’ll talk'”(Leroy Little Bear in The Book of Awakening).
No matter how frequently we revisit various versions of the two scientists and the Sage, the light of awareness flashes: empty our minds so we may live our life aware of our breath, as we begin yet again.
so much depends
a red wheel
glazed with rain
beside the white
chickens. (“The Red Wheelbarrow,” William Carlos Williams)