Every morning and every night, I sit out back and talk to my brother. I’ve stopped trying to make sense of the senseless and now I just focus on the clouds or the flowers, the stars or the sunset. Somehow, it’s comforting.
When Kim and I decided in the end of 2019 to write a book about the power of a pause, we had no idea how prophetic this concept would be. We knew the power of stopping and looking in is so life changing, but we didn’t know we would join hands with the world to watch this power unfold as we have been gripped by a pandemic and rattled by the evaluations of what it means to be black and what it means to be white.
As we’ve been writing and rewriting parts of the book now to reflect the worldview, I’ve been personally slammed with another kind of pause. My brother’s sudden passing has been an avalanche of grief and a turning inward as friends reached out to “remember when,” to reconnect, and to help carry the weight of what buries us.
My parents are in their mid-eighties, traditionally a time of great reflection. My dad wrote of our family’s loss, “This awakens us all to the fragility of life and how quickly it can end. Hug one another, tell them how important they are and tell them every day how much you love them.” This is the great power of the pause; an intense time of searching for meaning and the laser focus on what’s important and what isn’t.
In my morning and evening moments, I am thankful for what is good and I try to let go of what is horrific. My pause has been a cleansing. I’m washing away what needs to be forgiven and what needs to be healed. And underneath the surface, I’m searching for what’s shiny and new and spectacular. Who knows what this collective pause will bring the greater good but I’m hoping we will all be better off by the end of it. I’m hoping we remember that our lives can be shattered in just one moment. I'm hoping we take this precious time and use the gift it has given us for self-reflection and change. I’m hoping we move forward in ways that focus on love and acceptance.
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