
I recently had major surgery, and I thought during my recovery I would have time to finish my book, as well as think about my next one. My plan was to sit in bed and work while I healed. However, I had a watershed pivotal moment. I decided to do nothing.
Stopping was attractive and scary.
I had stopped when I walked El Camino de Santiago in Northern Spain, which at first was a goal to be achieved rather than an experience to be enjoyed. As the days passed I got into the rhythm and allowed myself just to be.
Here’s what I have learned: if you don’t stop to think, life will force you to stop and think. The irony is, if you make slowing down the goal it sets you up to fail. There is more to life than getting things done.
Time isn’t a commodity at all and it isn’t scarce: 45 minutes spent with someone you deeply love is not the same as 45 minutes in my killer spin class.
I want to invite you to let go of the idea that time is linear and think of it the same way we experience it, like elastic, variable, and layered. I am not interested in how you can cram more into your life but in how you get more out of it.
A pause is an opening. And it acts as a portal to other options and choices.
How do you pause?
- You start with breath, which connects the mind and the body.
- Go outside and plant your feet in the grass. Close your eyes and listen to the sounds.
- Take a slow walk. Be silent. Don’t think, just look and take in all the beauty that surrounds you.
- A weekly pause was built into religious traditions – a day of rest. Determine if taking a day of rest is right for you.
- Go somewhere. There is power in the place. I go to Sedona, and my son goes to Burning Man for example.
- Use your birthday as a pause. Take a day and do nothing.
This isn’t complicated but it is absorbing. A pause is an opening, which allows, enables, permits, and invites all sorts of possibilities. A pause does not demand, command, or control. It allows something to happen which would otherwise not occur, and you never quite know what that will be.
Have any Feng Shui questions? Feel free to contact me at michelle@michellecromer.com and sign up for your Power Color or visit me on Facebook at Michelle Cromer Feng Shui.



Recently, a family who had just lost their son called me. After a long battle with leukemia, he died in his bedroom, he was just 11. They wanted me to stand in that difficult sacred space between the living and the dead, between faith and fear, and determine the best way to honor his spirit. As I walked in I heard a woman, who I suppose was a friend tell the grieving family not to think of the little boy’s body, because it was “just a shell.” I am sure this thought was well-intentioned but was said by a person who is unsettled by the fresh grief of others. Right between the inhale and the exhale of the bone-wracking sobs such hurts produce, to some it’s normal to have this “just a shell idea.”
Several months after the celebration of the life of this little boy I returned and made these suggestions:
“At first I was afraid, I was petrified,” sings Gloria Gaynor in her huge hit “I Will Survive.” This is the song I was listening to when I received the phone call from my doctor. I don’t remember much of what he said, all I remember were those three devastating words, “You have cancer.” The opening line summed up my exact feeling. Petrified.
I will forever be grateful for my reconstruction plastic surgeon Dr. David Hecht, in Scottsdale. He not only saved my life by doing a biopsy on my “freckle” when THREE doctors said it was nothing, he used his talent and artistic genius to put my face back together after I had five procedures to cut out the cancer. As my scars continue to fade my admiration, respect, and gratitude for Dr. Hecht never will.

