In the pause
In this middle time between the equinox and the solstice, between pandemic-living and whatever-this-is, between the life we had and the one still forming, many of us find ourselves just… at a loss.
So when I stumbled across these wise words the other day, I knew I wanted to keep them close:
“Do you have the courage to be in the pause between what is ‘no longer’ and what is ‘not yet?’” - Octavia Raheem
I have been carrying this question around like a small, luminous stone. In sessions with clients, in our Writing Ourselves Awake workshop, we polish off Raheem’s words and gaze in recognition.
Ohhhh. This.
Something has shifted in the contours of those old stories, and we begin to discern what is dissolving, what is no longer. But, in the here and now, we can’t quite make out the shape of what’s forming, at least not yet.
Which sounds pretty, but is actually excruciating. It requires a kind of courage that most of us haven’t practiced.
Stay ahead of the pack and predict what’s coming? On it. Learn the rules for what’s required and push through? We know how to do that. But… be in the pause? What does that look like?
In practice, that looks like making space for what’s here right now. It looks like not rushing to resolve what we sometimes call the story paradox: How our work is both to interrupt old stories that no longer serve us, and to acknowledge that we are storytellers. Stories are how we understand ourselves and each other.
Like all good paradoxes, we can’t really think our way out of this. To be in the pause asks for gentleness and invites mystery. We remind each other to include permission and reverence. We remind each other to just keep showing up.
And sometimes, when we are lucky, we summon enough courage to be in the pause.
Writing prompt for those who’d like to explore further: Try writing into the phrase In the pause. See where the writing takes you.
Bonus manna for heart and soul: a just-published poem from adrienne maree brown, not busy, focused; not busy, full.