The sacred pause under the sky
This morning I took my dog to the park, and as he ran joyfully between the trees, I decided to do something I rarely allow myself: I lay down on the grass and just stayed there, doing nothing. For a few minutes, I was not the woman with a list of responsibilities waiting at home, not the professional with tasks and deadlines, not even the thinker trying to make sense of life. I was just a presence lying on the earth, feeling the coolness of the ground against my back, the warmth of the sun brushing my face.
I call this moment holy because it is free from interference. No phone, no obligations, no one asking anything from me. Just me, the sky, the grass, and the quiet hum of existence. These pauses are not a luxury, they are a lifeline — a way to refill the inner well that so often runs dry in the noise of everyday life. And every time I give myself permission to stop, I notice that a subtle, soft energy rises inside me, as if life itself is saying, “Welcome back.”
This energy usually stays with me for the rest of the day. My body feels lighter, my mind quieter, my actions more deliberate. It is as if that moment under the open sky resets my entire system, reminding me that beneath all the busyness, I am first and foremost a being, not a doing machine.
The dance of the violet butterflies
As I lay there, eyes half closed, I saw two violet butterflies fluttering nearby. At first, they looked like streaks of purple light, little flashes moving in circles. I took off my sunglasses and put on my reading glasses just to see them clearly — and what I saw amazed me.
Each wing had perfect round markings, circles so symmetrical they looked painted with care. I had seen these butterflies many times before, but never had I noticed the perfection of those designs. Their dance was hypnotic, a choreography without a choreographer, a spiral that kept weaving and unweaving itself as if they were drawing invisible patterns in the air.
For a moment, I felt like I was watching two tiny stars moving through the sky, tracing their orbits in slow motion. Their movement was not random — it had a rhythm, a pulse, a geometry. And then I remembered something: everything is moving this way. The entire universe is a dance.
The invisible dance of particles
Modern physics tells us that we are surrounded by movement at every scale. Even what we call “solid” matter is, at its core, mostly empty space, filled with particles in constant motion. Picture a snow globe after you shake it — tiny flakes floating, colliding, swirling endlessly. That is a little like the quantum world, except the particles never stop moving, and they move so fast and so precisely that they create the illusion of stillness.
Heisenberg once said, “What we observe is not nature itself, but nature exposed to our method of questioning.” As I watched the butterflies, I felt like I was observing nature on its own terms — not trying to measure or label, just letting it show me what it is.
When we lie down on the grass, we are lying on top of a field of interactions, a sea of energy. Photons are streaming from the sun, electrons are buzzing through the soil beneath us, molecules are vibrating inside our skin. We are literally part of this movement — not outside observers, but participants.
Spirituality has always known this
What struck me most in that moment was how familiar this insight felt. I had read about it in physics books, yes, but spirituality had been telling me the same thing long before I could understand quantum fields. Taoist masters spoke of the Tao — the Way — as the great flow of life, the movement that never stops. Lao Tzu wrote, “Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.”
Mystics from every tradition have said the same: everything is interconnected, everything is breathing, everything is alive. The dance I saw between those butterflies was the same dance happening in the stars, in the cells of my body, in the very particles of the air between them.
In that moment, I was not reading about oneness, I was living it. And this is the gift of direct experience: it bypasses belief, it bypasses dogma, and it takes you straight into the heart of truth.
How to experience this in your daily life
Understanding this with the mind is not enough. We must feel it, taste it, live it in our own skin. Here is a simple way to invite this dance into your day:
- Pause intentionally – Find a place where you can sit or lie down for a few minutes. Let yourself stop, fully.
- Feel your inner body – Close your eyes and bring your attention into your hands. Notice the subtle tingling, the warmth, the vibration. That is your life energy — what ancient traditions called chi.
- Anchor in your senses – Open your ears to the sounds around you: the wind, the birds, even distant traffic. See if you can hear without naming. Let colors, textures, and light enter your awareness like a painting coming to life.
- Watch your thoughts pass – Do not try to push them away. See them as clouds drifting across a vast sky. You are the sky, not the clouds.
- Remember your place in the dance – Every cell of your body is vibrating, every atom is moving in harmony with the universe. You are not separate.
David Bohm once wrote, “In some sense man is a microcosm of the universe; therefore what man is, is a clue to the universe.” You are a clue — a hint of what existence itself is trying to express.
No dogmas, just presence
Spirituality for me is not about following rules or memorizing dogma. It is about coming back to presence, again and again. You do not have to believe in anything blindly. You can verify it in your own experience. When you sit in stillness and feel your body from within, when you sense the space between your thoughts, you are touching the same field that moves galaxies, the same pulse that animates the dance of butterflies.
You are special because you exist
You do not have to earn your right to be here. You are already worthy, already miraculous, just by being alive. You are a constellation of particles, a symphony of vibrations, a consciousness capable of looking at itself and wondering what it all means.
And maybe that is the point. Maybe life is not a problem to solve but a mystery to experience.
We are the mystery trying to solve itself.