You have to pause to partake

An invitation given without judgement or expectation—only hope.

A few days ago I tried to order a coffee to go and the barista told me they don’t do take away coffees. “Do you think you could join us for a little bit?” His question was disarming. The invitation was given without judgement or expectation, but it gave me pause to ask myself why I was in such a hurry.

I accepted his invitation.

Even now, days later, I’m still thinking about it.

What would happen if we weren’t always on the go or if we didn’t cater to others who are? (Or if we didn’t live our lives according to social media algorithms?) It reminds me of being in Tuscany where one would never think of serving in a take away cup. To partake you must pause, linger, maybe even sit down. This isn’t told, it’s known.

I have become so accustomed to the illusion of multitasking that I don’t think twice about ordering something to go, but maybe what my soul has been longing for is an invitation to sit down when I’m too distracted or too busy or in too much of a rut to issue the invitation to myself.

“The soul is like a wild animal—tough, resilient, resourceful, savvy, self-sufficient. It knows how to survive in hard places. But it is also shy. Just like a wild animal, it seeks safety in the dense underbrush. If we want to see a wild animal, we know that the last thing we should do is go crashing through the woods yelling for it to come out. But if we will walk quietly into the woods, sit patiently by the base of the tree, and fade into our surroundings, the wild animal we seek might put in an appearance.” Parker Palmer, A Hidden Wholeness

How might you and I absorb this message right now? Even while we’re busy. Even while we’re tired. Even while we’re unable to name all the things pulling us to go.

You have to pause to partake.

May you accept the invitation. And may you learn how to extend it—yes, even to yourself.

with hope,
Adriel

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