a pause

a nasty virus catches you by surprise. you might be in bed for a few days, with a box of tissues, a good book and lots of lemon and honey. sneezing

a few more days pass and the virus is still hanging on. maybe now you have a cough or a sinus headache, or even a fever. more tissues, more hot drinks, more reading.

still a few more days pass and you slowly feel as if you might be recovering. you use fewer tissues, maybe even replace you pajamas with comfy clothing.

then an aftereffect of the virus takes hold...vertigo, or diarrhea, or a niggling cough that goes on and on. you realise now that it’s been over two weeks since the first signs of illness. it seems to take more time to bounce back lately. you may be less resilient these days.

frustration sets in. you’ve cancelled or re-scheduled appointments. maybe you’ve had to give away tickets for a long-awaited concert. and you notice that your willingness to simply be with what is has plummeted in inverse proportion to the frustration.

and then an insight. this is a pause.


the button with the two vertical bars has been pushed. a pause. everything slows or stops altogether. it becomes a time to reflect, to move as if in water...with care, awareness and consideration. each movement is measured against the amount of energy available. choices are made based on that store of energy.

slowly then, after weeks of heaviness, and possibly foreboding, after a pause made conscious, energy slowly returns, bit by bit.

elderhood allows us the time to recuperate, to convalesce, to pause. we can take time to be with what is, even when what is might be painful, certainly unpleasant. in elderhood all has meaning. you can take the time to return to your ‘regular’ life. and you may have been changed by the experience of the pause.