The Power of Pause
Did you open the fridge this morning? She asks.
No, I reply.
Well, then it was sort of open all night.
What!
I put that pan of peaches on the bottom shelf, she says, because they’re about to go bad—and…
But you can see [Here I demonstrate] the door doesn’t close.
Yes, but [Here she elbows me out of the way] if you just push it closed, it stays closed!
I can see a slight mist of moisture on everything. Damn. I am not sure how this is even possible since I have given the speech a hundred times and I was certain we were in agreement: You have to pack the fridge so that, in the end, the door closes on its own. If you have to force it to close, it will eventually be left slightly ajar.
I nearly gave that speech for the 101st time, but miraculously I paused*. I mean literally. Without a miracle my manic self automatically leaps to self-righteous justification. Listen to me! I told you so!
Somehow in that moment I was able to pause, long enough to take a breath, to see how futile and silly it all was, to recognize there were other options open to me. I know very well that the fruit of contemplative prayer is the power to let go—I just constantly fail to recognize the little mundane engagements that invite me to actually do that. Countless wisdom teachers have noted that the daily meditation practice of releasing our insistent thoughts is what is preparing us—gradually, one day at a time—to let go in the face of greater and greater fears, to finally release our own lives at the end. I love the idea of that…it’s just that, you know, when someone fails to properly pack the fridge, that’s a separate deal. That doesn’t count.
*P.S. My friend, spiritual director Caroline Oakes has written a whole book on this nanosecond of decision, called Practice the Pause. Using both neuroscience and Jesus’ model of prayer, Oakes demonstrates how contemplative practices in every spiritual tradition literally train our brains to work in a new way. In that split-second between auto-thought and knee-jerk reaction, we have a moment to pause. When we can do that, the latest research demonstrates, our brains are able to break the old patterns, fire a different set of neurons and literally re-wire our brains. In other words, modern neuroscience is confirming what prayer masters have known for thousands of years.
Ah, the spirituality of releasing pet peeves – something we can learn a lot from…
It’s the kindergarten-level stuff that ends up mattering
Some time ago, I heard that it takes about six weeks to change a paettern or habit. I have succeeded in some cases, but not in correctly packing my fridge :-).
The Bishop responded to my last Ember letter with an invitation to take some space and breathe. While difficult, it is important. To your point, and Caroline’s, it is when we take pauses, that we are able to breathe through the big and little things. Thank you, David!!
You have a wise Bishop, Kyle.
Yes, if death is the final exam, the pop quiz is a dripping fridge.
Perfectly put.
In my recent study, we have been discussing prayer! Your words for me are as always beautifully apt!!
Thanks for sharing this! It is the theme I’m currently exploring (God likes to do that). I was just reading about the 90 second rule (based on pausing to reset) in “Whole Brain Living.” Amazing that a pause can change brain chemistry!
Thanks–hadn’t heard about the 90-second rule, but its definitely in keeping with the Oakes book I mentioned.
David, your refrigerator door story captures what I wrestle with, countless times a day. Thank you for describing the value of the elusive “pause”.
I agree that the book Practice the Pause is very helpful an insightful. I hope your followers read it!
Right–we just keep coming back to the little, everyday choices we make, often automatically. So often religion or spirituality is presented as a big choice, big event, big decision, and 0n some occasions the stakes are that high. But mostly it’s what happens in the random moments we don’t tend to think have anything to do with “spirituality.” But increasingly I think that’s almost the whole enchilada.
It has taken some time but I have finally learned the art of the pause. Always. How did I learn? My wife has developed dementia which is getting worse daily. The things she says and does that once would be met with incredulity or ridicule now are met with a sigh and a long pause before I speak. It’s not an easy lesson to learn and now I wish I had learned it many years earlier. Nancy doesn’t remember “many years earlier” but oh, I do.
I read your comments to my wife, Kevin, and when I finished I said, “Well, that’s a take off your hat, take off your shoes moment–that’s holy ground.” It’s beautiful to hear how you have learned to stop and attend to whatever your wife is saying in her own mysterious way, and I know it’s also heartbreaking. That last line clings to me: “Nancy doesn’t remember ‘many years earlier’ but oh, I do.” Blessings as you keep pausing . . . .
“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” ~ Victor E. Frankl
That’s a great quote and spot on for this issue.