I’ve noticed that when I pull up to a stop sign, an interesting phenomenon happens that, I’m guessing, is some bizarre combination of momentum, gravity, and the physics of a car coming to a halt.

Just as I almost finish braking, the car rocks forward gently and then, just before coming to a complete stop, it settles backward to a full stop.  Then, if no one’s coming, I press the accelerator and the car moves forward again.  Either you’ve noticed this as well, or you’re thinking I’ve been huffing the dry erase markers again.

But here’s the thing: there’s a split second moment—a small space between–when the car settles into its full stop and before I accelerate off the line.  For a brief moment, I have stopped, and the world has stopped, and the planets have stopped, and each of the infinite universes of creation have stopped, and in that space, I take a breath.  I lean into that tiny absence of movement and chaos. I am mindful of the moment it has given me to be still and peaceful–if only for a nano-second. and even if it’s required of me by a giant red hexagonal sign with white letters.

My challenge to you, then, is to find a similar moment.

A moment when you can stop.  

And breathe.

And if I’m doing it when I pull up to a stop sign, you obviously don’t have to magically rearrange your schedule, your calendar, or your life.  

These moments are right in front of you.  Every day.

Where can you find a moment when your world, the universe, and all the planets just stop and are still for the briefest of times?

Where, exactly–and I mean today–can you hit the brake?  TZT