The Art of a Pause
Taking a step back to savor and why I'm not (really) crying over the chair
I was choking back tears on Saturday morning as the movers brought my furniture in our house.
“The green chair is too big for the living room. It doesn’t look right in the space. The room just looks so choppy,” I blubbered.
“And I don’t even know why I am crying or so emotional about the damn chair,” I said to Travis.
(The wonderful world of our female hormones.)
Between directing movers and trying to put food items in the fridge, I was momentarily falling apart over a particular chair of mine not fitting well in the living room. Newsflash, it’s usually not about the “thing” you’re blubbering over but something a little bit deeper.
He smiled, gave me a big hug, and we went on our way getting the rest of my items settled into the house. I handed the movers two cold cans of sparkling water and we chatted with them before they drove away.
While I was ready to jump into organizing and dividing up tasks to unpack, Travis looked at me and said, “Come here for a second. Let’s take a few minutes to pause and enjoy the moment.”
Pause?! I’ve got clothes to fold, china to put away, and a sock drawer to organize. Not to mention I want to sweep and mop the main level and…and…you get the idea.
We sat down. Me on the green and blue paisley chair and he sat on the matching ottoman.
“We did it,” he smiled, eyes bright.
He was right. This is my new home, our new home. I smiled too.
We did it.
We are both moved into the house where we will start a new life together.
I let out a slow breath.
Travis started remembering all the steps that brought us here. Selling his house, finding a new job, and buying a different house to be closer to where I was living for my job.
I looked out the bay window in the living room, replaying in my mind the last 12 months. All that has happened. All that has changed.
And that’s when it hit me. The tears weren’t really about the green chair not fitting well in our new space. It was more about what this move meant on a deeper level.
I was crying but it wasn’t really about the chair not fitting in the living room. I was crying because something I have waited and hoped for is here. Something I sometimes stopped hoping for over the years has arrived. It was another simple reminder of what my spiritual director has told me over the last six years: Patty, life is always unfolding around you. Ease your way into the evolving flow of it all, don’t force it.
Life is a mystery to be lived not something to grasped at and controlled.
When life is busily happening all around us, it can be easy to become more focused on doing the next thing. I forget, maybe you forget too, that something important happens when we take a sacred pause to be, to reflect, to be still, to look backwards as we live into mystery of life unfolding.
As a Type A person who loves a solid checklist, I tend to lean more in the direction of keep going and plowing through. I struggle with being fully present to the moment in front of me. I keep moving and sometimes forget to pause.
And you know what? After we took that 10-15 minutes to pause amid the moving boxes, I felt more connected to myself, more peaceful and grounded. I realized the tears weren’t actually about the green chair but rather was going on inside of my heart and mind.
My shoulders loosened, the restless feeling in my stomach lessened. We moved through the rest of the day with more peace and joy. I felt better and the rest of the day went smoother.
The art of a sacred pause is something I am slowly learning and trying to practice more. I don’t want to live my life in such a way that I am merely rushing through it.
Sometimes I will get right and other times I will miss the mark. The same is true for you.
Living the mystery of life with a bit more ease and gentleness is a simple adjustment I think we can all make from time to time.
I am glad amid the last few busy weeks of planning, moving, and double checking all the details, I leaned into the opportunity when Travis pointed it out to me.
Learning to lean into pausing with you, friend…
Patty