And in the pause, we learn to step into the next one, just a little more whole, and maybe just a bit more… slowly.
Summer whispers of lazy mornings and afternoons, family bonfires, getaways… it’s also the season of unfinished dreams – the projects and intentions shelved during the rush of daily life. This year, my “opportunities list” was long.
In the spring, I attended a meditation retreat. At the opening circle, we were asked to choose a card from a deck – blindly, without thought. Mine read Clarity. The word landed like a bell in my chest. Yes, that’s it, I thought. That’s what I’m seeking. Yet I couldn’t name exactly what in my life needed to be seen more clearly!
Four weeks later, clarity found me in the most unexpected way.
It began with a simple need: sandals. Shopping is, for me, a necessary evil – too much choice, too much noise. So I headed to my reliable W- – – – – S store, where the options are fewer and the decisions mercifully quick. A pair was found. Mission accomplished.
While rushing on my way back to the car, my foot caught on something – (I was later told it was a newly installed speed bump… one I had driven over upon entering the parkade.) Time slowed…Then nothing.
The air that caught me, quickly dropped me.
I awoke to the metallic slam of ambulance doors. The sandals were there, the “Good Night” book for my grandson still in the bag. But that time between take off and landing, had vanished into darkness. Two stitches, a scan, a mild concussion later – then home again, thanks to my sons’ quiet efficiency, and a friend who stayed the night.
And then, the pause.
At first, I railed against it – why now, why this? But as the days unfolded, I began to see the gifts hidden in the stillness: the quiet comfort of people who communicate and show up without being asked, the relief of letting go of doing it all alone, the unexpected strength that rises after facing something frightening, and the gentle lesson of letting life hold us instead of the other way around.
In that quiet space, I met myself again – more willing to decelerate and listen. I remembered that solitude is not emptiness; it is a room where one hears the heart beat, and our own truth. It’s where we choose whether an experience becomes a wound we carry… or a root from which we grow.
There’s always light, even when we can’t see it yet. And sometimes the most important thing we can do is nothing at all – rest, nourish, turn off the noise, reach for a hand or text, lean into whatever faith we keep and meditate.
As the quote goes, from the biblical book of Ecclesiastes, chapter 3, verses 1-8. “ … to everything there is a season”
The Byrds – Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is A Season) (Audio)
Who would have known that in missing a step, I ultimately gained a valuable lesson in clarity.
