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A couple of days ago I was walking my dogs at 2 pm, it was midweek. I had a moment of joy as I felt the sun on my face and knew I had the time to let the dogs sniff and amble along. I wasn’t rushing anywhere. I had time to breathe. I had time to enjoy the moment. It wasn’t a day of nothingness. I had work to do – enough without being too much – but my schedule had space. There was something so expansive about the ability to pause and just be alive that had me filling up. Spaciousness in life is a sacred thing. It reminds us of who we are and what we love. It allows us to pause, to breathe, to listen, to re-align ourselves and to find thankfulness.
I count myself lucky. I didn’t always have space in my life. The things that disappeared first in my crammed schedule were unrushed relationships, and connection to the things I love most. I misplaced the ability to savour the joy I find in a walk, a cup of tea and the feel of sunshine on my face.
He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed. Albert Einstein
Beyond the Shadow 
I too feel so lucky to be at a place in my life where I have some space and time. I am able to do the things that I want to do (like writing). Still can’t find time to clean my house, though! 🙂
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I’m glad you’ve got time for writing-I’ve enjoyed the posts I read so far.
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Dear Sue:
I was struck – no, more than struck; I was unnerved – by these weighty words in your article: “There was something so expansive about the ability to pause and just be alive.”
What sprang to mind was a similar observation by no less than the ‘Mind Awake’ himself, C. S. Lewis:
“The real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind.”
It would appear, Sue, that the delicate art of “coming in out of the wind” requires true intentionality.
We are being bombarded by stimuli from every direction; this culture-at-large is conditioning us to fall prey to the ‘tyranny of the urgent.’
And the tyranny of the urgent most assuredly does NOT “allow us to pause, to breathe, to listen, to re-align ourselves and to find thankfulness.”
I wonder:
Do we any longer even possess the CAPACITY to immerse ourselves in the moment, rather than merely to plunge headlong into the next one?
I think, Sue, that your article is living proof that we still do possess that capacity, even if it lays dormant within us.
We just have to learn how to ‘shove back’ the ‘wild animals’ when they come rushing at us.
And I daresay that your article gently suggests how we might do that.
In point of fact, you chose to give yourself “time to breathe.”
And therein is the irony, Sue…..
Because we can also choose NOT to jump off our treadmills of persuasion.
But how on earth will we discern the voice of our Creator if we don’t?
Contemplatively,
PhiL {‘•_•’}
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Thank you for reading my blog, Phil. I appreciate your words. It’s a difficult thing, to create breathing space. Last week I had it, this week not so much. It’s a process, I suppose, of awareness and intent.
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