Another way of taking refuge, similar to the trout resting behind a rock in calmer water, is the Sacred Pause. It's a remarkably simply practice--a remarkably simple practice that leads over and over into consternation and then on to insight and possibility and peace.
Here's the simplicity of it: Any time you're in the middle of something and you feel pressured or tense, frustrated or confused, angry or afraid...Pause. Don't go with the flow--step out of it. Whatever you're about to do...don't. Just don't. Simply...Pause.
Remembering to Pause is like the trout remembering where the river's best rocks are.
Actually Pausing is our movement to the still place behind the rock.
The current around us is still just as strong as it was--only we're not exactly in it anymore. We sense the rush and the roar, we sense some of the old tug too, often very strongly.
But here's thing--the current is not taking us where it usually does because we're pausing and resting in a stiller place.
And then?
Then something else, something fresh becomes possible.
One of the first times I gave pausing a real try was in the middle of one those habitual arguments couples get into. One of those 30 year kind of arguments where you each dig in to the same old position you've always had and lob rocks (or grenades) over the other's wall.
A few minutes into the escalating battle, I remembered the possibility of pausing. And tried it.
I stopped arguing. At least out-loud. There were still lots of heaving and seething in part of me--but there was also this other thing, this other thing I was trying to embody, this Pause thing.
I settled into breathing, in and out, in and out, trying to listen both to what my wife was saying and to my own aggravated thoughts and feelings. It wasn't easy but it was doable.
At first I thought maybe that without actually participating in the argument out loud myself, she'd stop too. But finally having a chance to say what she wanted to say without smart-ass interruptions and attacks from me was apparently too sweet an opportunity to miss--she let me have for about 10 or 15 more minutes--which gave me an extended opportunity to explore Sacred Pausing in depth!
It was painful. It was promising. It was obvious that Pausing was full of fresh possibilities.
Why...I could use this time to find the perfect stone to throw--and wait till just the right moment to sling it--like a major league pitcher picking a runner off first base!
Or...I could use the time and space of this pausing, this resting behind a rock and out of the strongest currents to actually try to embody my deepest self's intentions.
My deepest self's intentions are a lot more loving than my habitual self's intentions.
So much is possible when instead of doing the usual thing we open our minds and hearts to deeper, fresher possibilities.
But I was new at this and had no clue how to make it work. This is the consternation part--to recognize the presence of such possibility and not yet know how to use it well.
On the other hand, I was at least learning how to stop the war. The best I could do at the time was to listen, and listen, and pray for wisdom. And keep my mouth shut.
Over time we slowly make better use of our possibilities--of God's possibilities. Though I don't think the consternation ever goes away or needs to. God's possibilities will always stretch and challenge us beyond our comfort zone and current ability.
This mix of deeper intention, and consternation, and peace, and possibility and Presence is why the practice of Pausing is called Sacred. It's not a stretch at all to discover that practicing the Sacred Pause in one of the best ways we experience for ourselves, over and over, right here in the middle of our human mess that the Kingdom of God is always at hand.
