Stopping. David Kundtz

one deeper and more effective) and plumbing the deeper recesses of your being, allowing you to creatively and joyfully do nothing and to become more fully awake and recollected. These experiences will help you to make accurate decisions and to maintain your true life-direction.

      All three expressions of Stopping—Stillpoints, Stopovers, and Grinding Halts—are designed specifically to help you keep one thing in mind: all you have is “now,” “then” is gone, and “when” is not yet and may never be. As the quote at the head of this chapter reminds us, this is not a dress rehearsal for your real life, which will happen sometime later when you are more prepared. You are not waiting for anything to begin; you are in the middle of it.

      Except for the point,the still point,There would be no dance,and there is only the dance.

      T. S. ELIOT, Four Quartets

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      Stillpoints: The Heart and Soul of Stopping

      Stillpoints are the expression of Stopping that can be used most often and that forms the basis, or undergirding, of all Stopping. Stillpoints are quick and focused. Creating Stillpoints during the day is fundamental to the incorporation of Stopping into one's life. They grow by accumulation and thus are the backbone that holds up the structure. A day with fifteen Stillpoints will make you much more peaceful, satisfied, and calm, no matter how much you've had to do, how many people you've had to attend to, or how many fires you've had to put out. Stillpoints also bring you closer to joyful anticipation of the longer Stoppings.

      The overwhelming advantage of Stillpoints—especially compared to meditation and other time-consuming systems of quieting—is that they can be incorporated into your life with minimal disruption and maximum effect. You can be with someone constantly for a whole day and that person would never know that during the day you had been renewed and refreshed by fifteen or twenty Stillpoints. I do it all the time:

      As I am presenting a seminar to forty nurses, at least ten times during the presentation, I do a Stillpoint. I take a deep breath, focus in, remind myself of what I want to create in this seminar and what I want to offer the participants, and then I go back to what I was doing. This takes a few seconds and the participants experience it only as a brief pause.

      Stillpoints are life's little moments of gold that, when taken together, can give brilliance and joy to otherwise dull days. Stillpoints are the little times, brief interludes, quick respites, one minute breaks, breathers, intermissions, and lulls.

      But they are also intentional and are chosen for a specific purpose. They, as all Stopping, consist as much as possible of doing nothing and of quietude.

      What you do during a Stillpoint is simple: You stop doing whatever you're doing, sit or stand, take a deep breath with your eyes open or closed, focus your attention inward, and remember what you need to remember. Stop, breathe, and remember. The remembering part is very flexible, it can mean recalling a belief or event that motivates you. But it can also mean remembering a prayer for strength or peace, a message you need to hear at the moment like “you can do it,” or a self-encouragement like “you are okay.” Stop, breathe, and remember. Here are some examples of Stillpoints:

      You are on the bus (or train or plane) and are staring ahead of you, perhaps focusing on the back of the seat in front of you. You begin by simply noticing your breathing for a few moments. Then briefly bring to mind some of the people that are very important to you: parents, children, spouse or partner, or friends. After a moment or two of this, simply smile, softly.

      You are at the copy machine (or fax machine or on-line or in line) waiting for it to do what it is supposed to do. You relax your shoulder muscles, take a slow, deep breath with your eyes open or closed, and think of one thing for which you are thankful, for example: “I am so thankful that I have a friend like Maggie.”

      The words from T. S. Eliot's poem at the beginning of the chapter are profoundly fitting for an understanding of Stillpoints. If it were not for the still point, there would be no dance. Dancing cannot continue indefinitely. There must be a point at which the dancing body stops and rests. It is that point and that time of stillness that gives energy to the dance, and the dance—life!—is all there is.

      So, Stillpoints have a physical part (being still and breathing) and a spiritual part (remembering, praying, thankfulness, or other words that are good for you to hear).

      Simple, isn't it? The very essence of Stillpoints is deep, intentional breathing and a moment of quiet recollection. Since breathing is of the essence in Stillpoints, this is a good time to learn the intentional breath.

      “I don't need to know how to breathe,”you're probably thinking. “I've been doing it sincethe day I was born—without a single lesson.”

      IAN JACKSON

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      Breathing Is Inspiring

      I'll never forget the moment I learned to breathe. No, it was not when the doctor slapped my bottom as a welcome into the world and I gulped my first intake of air. It was about forty-five years later when I was in training for certification as an interactive guided image therapist. During one of the sessions, we were led through a breathing exercise. The woman leading the group spoke slowly, calmly, and clearly about the process of breathing and how many of us breathe shallowly.

      That teaching changed my life. I don't think anyone around me was aware of it (or were they being polite and discreet?), but as I breathed deeply in and then completely exhaled, involving the entire internal mechanisms of a diaphragmatic breath, I broke into an instant sweat because the experience was so new and overwhelming. As I continued to breathe consciously and fully, I then began to shake, because the experience was so physically and emotionally revolutionary. I know it seems odd now (I must have actually breathed deeply before that?!), but it felt like my first breath and like I had never really breathed deeply before. In the days and weeks that followed, I became a conscious breather, practicing frequently and learning the nuances of breathing.

      Conscious breathing means to breathe deeply and intentionally. To breathe deeply is to begin the breath low in your belly and move it up into your chest.

      To learn how to do this, begin by placing your left hand over your heart and your right hand over your belly button. As you breathe in, your right hand should move out and away from your body as your lungs fill with air, and your left hand should remain still. This movement should make you look “fatter” than you are; your stomach should be protruding. Then, as you breathe out, or exhale, your right hand should move back towards your body, and your left hand should remain still. The taking in of air moves your stomach, not your chest, out.

      Too often what happens is that when we take in a deep breath, the left hand on the chest moves out, meaning that the air is kept shallow and high in the chest and does not bring oxygen to the lungs in an efficient way.

      To take this a step farther to an even more complete breath, begin with your hands placed as above: left hand on your heart and right hand on your belly button. Breathe in and watch your right hand move out. But this time, continue to breathe in and when the right hand is out as far as is comfortable, bring the inhale up to your chest and allow the left hand to move out also. Then, as you breathe out, or exhale, the reverse movement happens as your left hand moves close to the body first and the right hand follows. As you do these breaths in succession, you will see that there is an undulating motion as air moves from down to up and from up to down: from the stomach to the chest and from the chest to the stomach.