The art of stopping

Illustration by Henck van Bilsen in The Socks of Doom

We want to live consciously. That we stated right from the beginning of The Restory. We want to believe that it describes the way we are living here at Barrowfield and in essence it is also the golden thread running through our writing.

It might therefore seem strange to write about conscious living at this stage. Almost like stating the obvious.

True. But I’ve been carrying this beautiful phrase for so long that I only want to put it somewhere and look at it.

To practice the art of stopping.

Author Nguyen Anh-Huong introduced me to it in her slim book Walking Meditation. She says:

“By practicing the art of stopping, we can enter the present moment and be nourished by the beauty and wonder of life in and around us: the smell of flowers, the warmth of sunshine, the color of the sky. To practice mindfulness is to begin to realize that we have a choice – to stop and rest or run, to be angry or happy. Once we choose to stop, everything will be okay.”

And as if to highlight my precious phrase I attended a retreat at The Buddhist Retreat Centre at Ixopo just outside Pietermaritzburg over the past weekend. Under the theme A taste of Mindfulness the art of stopping was grounded and the daily application and implications demonstrated.

View over valley in the Umkomaas river system - Buddhist Retreat Centre, Ixopo
(Photograph by George Angus)

In a society on the run it is not easy to be fully present. I might be physically present but my mind is usually hours, even days ahead. On the retreat we realised anew that most of the time we’re on auto pilot. We go through the motions automatically without really listening, or seeing, or smelling, or feeling or tasting. Through mindfulness exercises we were almost learning to walk and eat all over again and really appreciate the objects and actions of daily living.

At the heart of all of this is the art of stopping. It implies a formal act where for 5 to 20 minutes each day you just sit relaxed, breathe deeply and be present. During the informal practices the rest of the day you extend this act to a living awareness through all your senses. 

Some might say it is all a waste of time. In our busy schedules there is no time to stop and smell the roses.

Ironically, it might just be our most productive activity.

A young but earnest martial arts student approached his teacher, and asked the Master: 

“I am devoted to studying your martial system. How long will it take me to master it?” 

The Master thought about this, then replied, "Ten years." 

The student then said, "But what if I work very, very hard and really apply myself to learn fast -- How long then?" 

Replied the Master, "Well, twenty years." 

"But, if I really, really work at it. How long then?" asked the student. 

"Thirty years," replied the Master. 

"But, I do not understand," said the disappointed student. "Every time I say I’ll work harder, you say it will take me longer. Why?" 

Replied the Master, “When you have one eye on the goal, you only have one eye on the path."

Creativity in all its forms and practices is very important for us here at The Restory. My recent experiences, especially those over the weekend made me realise anew that we long for it to be carried by a particular art form – the art of stopping. 

George