I imagine it as if pressing the actual pause button on the VCR. The screen gets a little fuzzy and completely frozen. Everything stops.
And it stays there, in it's own little paused world, until you come back and press the play button.
I'm learning how much it's not about multitasking, but about meaningful single-tasking. The practice is in putting that first thing on pause (gracefully), and then turning to attend to the next. Trusting the TV and the VCR will stay there, frozen, waiting - in the exact same place - until you come back to it with your attention.
Of course, life always keeps moving, but I know my work is allowing for the space to step away, to focus entirely elsewhere - and pretend that the pause button is a real thing.
What will you do when you make time stop? (Hit reply, let me know. I mean it.)
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House projects today...
What? I am building a house?
A long foggy drive through the Driftless this morning. A long clear drive through the Driftless this afternoon.
Feeling okay that all of the evaluation forms are going to come back with "Agree", instead of "Strongly Agree" - I don't have to be perfect all the time. "B" is still a passing grade.
The newest episode of Death, Sex & Money with Jeff Garlin
Find the pause button. What will you do when you make time stop?
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From the archives, so they don't get lonely...
April 12, 2017
I just heard this (again) on Writers' Almanac and it spoke to me. I like this idea that the same things resonate over and over. The hooks and the barbs are still sharp and get stuck in the knit of my scarf.