The Pause Revolution

She embraced me and swayed with me in her arms. I could feel the hollow ache in her heart that I couldn’t heal. She had lost her child. She was experiencing a grief no mother should ever have to endure. The pain her loss created had found a place deep within me, where it attached itself and gnawed at my core.

Grief makes you look at things differently.

And grief reminds you to live.

I wanted to write a post this month that would make you look at things differently—and remind you to live. But at first, all I could come up with were the tried and true cliché’s that you pin on your wall, or maybe even tattoo on your arm, and then continue with your old way of doing things.

YOLO—you only live once. You and I both know this, but here we are, still focusing on the things we must get done.

Don’t sweat the small stuff sounds great, but the small stuff can sure pile up if left ignored.

You’re not promised tomorrow … but we still go to bed mad at each other today.

So how do we truly live like there is no tomorrow and embrace every day like it might be our last?

I think the answer might lie in life’s moments.

Our to-do lists have to get done and there are going to be times that we will get mad at one another, but life still exists in those moments. Those aren’t the moments we choose to focus on when we have lost someone we love, I know—but what if we could still connect with life in those moments so that we don’t feel like we are losing part of our fragile existence?

Grief forces us to slow down and soak in the very pieces of life we take for granted, like the blazing colors that greet us at the beginning and end of every day and the blessing of someone’s presence in our life, yet we live in a society that passes over those moments in favor of attaining quotas, completing to-do lists, and hanging plaques that collect dust on our walls.

I want to start a revolution—one without politics and gore but that still changes how we do things.

My revolution involves a pause. A pause that seeks to freeze life for a moment—and recognize the very things and people around us that we often wish we had focused on more when death and loss impact us.

For the next 30 days, I want you to join me in the pause revolution. All I need is one minute of your day. You even get to design that one-minute pause any way you like.

This is how the pause revolution works: first, pick a time. It can be first thing in the morning before you get out of bed or after you have gotten into your car to go to work. It can be on your lunch break, in the shower, on the toilet, or at the dinner table. I don’t care. You get to pick when and where you will pause.

Next, starting today, pause. Stop what you are doing. Close your eyes or don’t, but pause, and focus on something. It can be that inspiring quote about life’s brevity taped to your wall. It can be a beautiful sunrise or sunset. It can be the face of a loved one. You can look at it or imagine it. Just pause.

Take in a deep breath (it’s better if it is through your nose). Aim to take in all the oxygen that you can. Then force it all out through your mouth.

That is all you have to do—pause, focus, breathe—once a day for the next 30 days.

I know this doesn’t seem like much but I’m hoping you will join me on the chance that it is—and of course you know I believe it will matter, or I wouldn’t be so bold to start a revolution.

A revolution that I believe can bring you peace, gratitude, focus, and clarity.

A revolution that I hope will help both you and me to capture our lives, one pause (minute) at a time.

So, will you join me in my revolution? Will you stop and pause? If so, click on over to my Facebook page and let me know you are joining me. And most importantly, don’t forget to pause—this one-minute might just be the best investment of your life.