 In the constant daily hum of my day, sometimes life's fragile nature eludes me. When I do forget, life has a compelling way of reminding me. Decades ago, when my mother died, feeling numb the day of her death, I was desperate to find solace. I grabbed my trusted companion at the time, my Newfoundland dog, Max, we went for a walk. Anyone that has experienced grief may know, it’s like no other emotion. It’s as if a foreign entity had entered my being, taking the form of a cloudy ball of sorrow traveling throughout my body, creating waves of emotion that erupt within. Each step forced my ball of sorrow to shoot from one point of my body to the next. I became a human pinball machine, prompting the lights and bells of grief to ring out. With my Newf leading the way, we slowly walked down an oh, so familiar street. As a car passed by, my immediate thought was, “Why are they out? Don’t they know my mother just died?” I passed gardeners as they were cutting a neighbors lawn. I had to hold myself back from screaming “Stop! My mother just died.” It was in that moment I was reminded, the power of the pause. Moments of distress are part of life, however what I am seeing, especially since the advent of social media, I have forgotten how to take the occasional pause and sit with my distress. When an uncomfortable feeling arises, my knee jerk reaction is to run from the discomfort. It has become too easy to grab my phone, food or any other distraction to self-medicate. Zen masters have always understood the power of the pause, allowing time for the body to be still, to recalibrate. Pausing is essential when in dis-ease. This is not the time to think, to feel or talk. It’s time to just be, time to let the mud settle. The memory of my mother’s passing came back because of Donald Trump’s assassination attempt. Minutes after the near tragic event, with smoke barely settled, the narrative began. Where was the pause? The importance of the pause is to attempt to make sense of the senseless, to process the unthinkable, to allow time for our bodies own protection mechanisms to kick in. Most importantly, a pause is necessary to acknowledge the fragility of life, for without that, we miss the beauty — then are just sleepwalking. Live in color, Abby P.S. The first draft of this post was written the day after the shooting. I finished this piece five days later because I needed to pause.
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