Why I Want Applause ... I Mean A PAUSE!
It's something I need to do a lot more often. Something tells me I'm not alone.
I really don’t ever want to be a person who says “the universe works in weird ways.” In fact, let’s just pretend I didn’t say that just now.
But even though I didn’t say that, I do believe we can find meaning in coincidence and synergy.
Just in the past few days, three very different messages about pausing entered my overactive zeitgeist. These are the three takeaways I … took away.
1. Notice shenpa
The first lesson is charmingly articulated in a worth-the-watch 19-minute lecture by Buddhist teacher Pema Chödrön and is all about “shenpa, the power of pause, and how ‘positive groundlessness’ can set you free.” Since that sounds woo (and I’m not [that] woo [usually]), let me put it another way: Shenpa is the hook that we feel right before we exhibit habitual behaviors involving anger, frustration, or anything “negative.” And, oh boy, is this an issue for me sometimes.
2. Consider “Tech Shabbat”
The second piece of media that floated into my life in the past few days has been a recent episode of the On Being with Krista Tippett podcast entitled, “Living the questions: We’ve been enmeshed with our technologies. Tech Shabbat for everyone?” Featuring filmmaker and author Tiffany Shlain, Tech Shabbat is basically a rest from screens occurring each week from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday. It’s a reset, a time for creative stimulation and deeper thoughts. It’s a pause. Let’s breathe in and out, put down our phones, and noodle on that for a moment …
3. Practice “selective attention”
The third life lesson is something I was reading relating to tactics for dealing with difficult people. Whether the difficult person is a co-worker or a child, so much of the professional advice seems to involve, at least in some part, taking a pause (in the case of managing challenging children, that pause equals “selective attention”). In that pause, we can detach as well as honor the need for taking space (honor both your own and the other person’s).
The need for applause—I mean, the need to pause—is something that is on my mind a lot.
On an intellectual level, I am certain that pausing would set me free from so much of my discomfort and frustration. (So, as Chödrön points out, noticing my shempa would be a perfect first step.)
And I swear to Bette Midler, I am trying. Though I probably have a thousand years of work ahead of me until it comes easy, when I am at my best (i.e. the day after I got a blissful full night’s sleep), I am more able to pause in the midst of chaos (little chaos like upcoming deadlines or big chaos like destabilising arguments).
One thing I have historically struggled with when faced with a possible pause is the fear of not being heard, understood, or acknowledged.
If I don’t correct the other person, they will continue with their misunderstanding of me. If I don’t (enthusiastically) explain my perspective (cue the tap-dancing!), I will disappear. If I don’t point out every flaw with the system, it will never be fixed.
I am an activist, so you can see where I honed this … skill?
Though this instinct of mine has its charms (I have high expectations of myself and others, which is not in itself an issue), I recognize the times my occasional relentlessness creates more hurdles than not. There’s nothing cute about an overgrown, brooding adult-teenager, and there are few opportunities for collaboration when one person (ah-hem) is being a little extra.
Despite my well-worn habit of not pausing, that’s not how I want to show up in my personal or professional life.
I’m looking forward to continuing on my journey and incorporating these new(ly presented) tools. Not only do they inspire me to pause in conflict or potential conflict, they also make me want to pause the noise coming at me (such as by taking a Tech Shabbat).
If this is something you have had experience with, I’d love to hear from you about what you found worked the most.
xo,
jazz
A Random Thing I Want to Share
Today marks 19 years since 15-year-old Sakia Gunn was murdered in her hometown of Newark, NJ in a homophobic hate crime. Unlike Matthew Shepherd, a white man whose life was also taken by homophobic bullies, very few people have heard Sakia Gunn’s name or know Sakia Gunn’s story. The Newark LGBTQ Center—where I serve as a board member—was founded in her honor, and today, we speak her name.