The Pause that Changes everything

One of the biggest lessons I’ve been learning, and honestly still practicing every single day, is that our experiences are neutral until we give them meaning. Life is constantly happening around us. Things go right, things fall apart, people say things, plans shift. None of it actually means anything until our mind gives it a story.

It sounds simple, but living it is messy. My mind still jumps in fast. It wants to analyze, protect, and make sense of everything. The practice is slowing down long enough to notice when a thought has taken over and to remember that I have a choice in how I see something.

Here’s a real example. My husband came home from work one night and barely said a word. Within seconds my body tensed and my mind started spinning. He must be mad at me. Did I do something wrong? I could feel the sting of rejection rising before anything had even happened. Later I found out he was just tired and had a headache. It had nothing to do with me. The moment itself was neutral. My thought about it created the emotion.

I’ve come to see that pattern everywhere. Something happens, I have a thought about it, that thought creates a feeling, and from that feeling I respond. The moment has no built-in meaning until I give it one.

There’s a framework I love that helps me see this more clearly. It teaches that our thoughts come first, our emotions follow, and our actions come from those emotions. It’s not about controlling thoughts or forcing positivity. It’s about becoming aware of the story that’s shaping how I feel and asking if it’s even true.

But here’s the thing. I also believe the body remembers before the mind does. Sometimes my heart starts racing or my stomach tightens before I’ve even had a conscious thought. That’s the nervous system talking. It’s my body saying, I’ve felt this before. In those moments, I try not to shame myself for reacting. The thought might be optional, but the feeling in my body is real. It’s often an old imprint showing up again, asking to be felt and understood.

So I breathe. I remind myself that I’m safe now, even if my body hasn’t quite caught up. This is where thought work meets nervous system work. The mind helps me create awareness, and the body helps me integrate it. When both are included, I can meet what’s happening with a lot more compassion.

This is something I use for myself and with my clients. Together, we slow things down and look at what really created the feeling. Was it the event itself, or the story that followed? We also listen to the body because it often speaks first. When people start to see that connection, it’s like a light turns on. Suddenly the emotion doesn’t feel so heavy. It starts to make sense.

I’m not perfect at this. I still get caught in my stories and forget what I know. But more and more, I’m able to catch myself sooner and come back to that small space between what happens and what I make it mean. That’s where freedom lives.

The next time something stirs you, pause and ask, What story am I telling about this moment? And then, What is my body remembering? Both matter. Both hold truth. And together, they point you back to yourself.