For someone who’s written a book about pausing and breathing – albeit principally in the context of conversations – I recently realised that I wasn’t doing much of either! Without noticing, I’d become preoccupied with routine tasks and some self-imposed expectations around bigger projects – and got drawn into a tighter and tighter circle of ‘getting stuff done’.
This is a long-established pattern and, over the years, I’ve worked on easing its grip on my mind, body and actions. While I’ve made some progress, I’m still prone to prioritising mundane activities over stimulating ones, just to get them ‘out of the way’. During September and October, I’d become the proverbial hamster in a wheel. I lost contact with my creativity, my walks were functional rather than pleasurable, and my body, mind and spirit contracted.
And then, as I cleared the decks of the detritus of a number of completed projects – reaccreditation paperwork, a follow button for my blog, updating the files to reissue Pause for Breath – in preparation for the next one, I paused. What lay ahead was important: engaging with feedback from people who’d kindly invested time and energy in reading a draft of my third book.
In pausing, I realised I was feeling slightly apprehensive. My body was unsettled and my mind was stuck in ticking off the ‘to do’ list – not a great state for meaningful work.
I took a break to regroup. I began with the Buddhist practices that have become central to my life. Although – full disclosure – even this had an element of working towards a commitment I’d made to myself. I made this choice with awareness: yes, I was progressing a longer-term undertaking – but my immediate concern was recovering some composure and clarity.
Working with the practices, I felt a growing sense of ease in my body and mind. I stepped away from the cushion with a sense of spaciousness and perspective, a sense of… ‘aaaahhh’. In this moment of lucidity, my reconfigured mind offered this: in my habitual ‘cracking on’, I hadn’t taken time to celebrate and enjoy what I’d accomplished. Feeling constantly ‘behind the curve’ – a self-determined curve – I’d just carried on carrying on. I was immersed in the ‘thick of thin things’ (to quote Stephen Covey).
That afternoon, I went for a walk – a proper walk in a glorious autumn landscape. I breathed deeply, sat on benches, looked, listened, sensed… appreciating, lingering, breathing. Mostly, I thought about nothing… and every now and then, an insight would appear, with a lightness that allowed it to drift away… leaving clarity in its wake.
As I walked, I realised that the pattern of task-oriented endurance had been building all year. Since January, I’ve been tackling necessary but tiresome things. To keep my books available, I became a seller on Amazon – a tedious, confusing and time-consuming process – and then decided to publish my books directly through IngramSpark (ditto). I haven’t paused to be impressed by this – and by research into, and implementation of, others things outside my knowledge and skillset. I haven’t breathed… and appreciated my tenacity and perseverance.
Walking, I allowed myself to tenderly savour these things.
And, all the while, I remained gently aware of my unease about engaging with the feedback I’d requested. Somewhere along the route, realisation dawned: Oh! I haven’t properly read this draft myself.
This matters for two reasons. Firstly, without assessing what I’ve written, I imagine the worst. Duh!
More importantly, and paradoxically, to be truly open to the different views of others, it helps to have some clarity about my starting point. With a sense of this, I can set it aside – suspend it – and create room for what others might say with a sense of interest and curiosity. If I’m unclear, I’m more susceptible to being buffeted by the views of others – I have no ground from which to be discerning about what I take on, consider or let go. Of course, if I’m too clear, I’m more closed to what others say. The aim is to include my voice alongside the voices of others.
My walk surfaced the quieter inner voices that had been drowned out by doing stuff.
Pausing, breathing… the way forward is clear.
Contemplations
- What are you caught up in? What is drawing you into tighter and tighter circles, limiting what’s possible?
- How might you pause, breathe… and create space for a fresh perspective?
