pause.

break the order

Growing up, there was an expression we used to describe a person’s brief deviation from their usual behaviour: five minutes of madness. A bout of anger from an otherwise calm person, a burst of laughter from a normally expressionless face, a moment of disrespect from a student of exemplary conduct—these could sometimes be excused away as five minutes of madness. It didn’t cancel their rap sheet, but at least it offered an explanation from an empathetic point of view when every other logical reason failed to hold water.

Some even claimed that having such periods of madness was a sign of good mental health. They suggested that the absence of them confirmed the presence of bottled-up emotions, which could be harmful in the long run. In other words, it was madness not to display five minutes of madness from time to time. Of course, it had to be short-lived—otherwise, it would be taken as characteristic. I can’t confirm the truity or universality of the concept, but I know it experientially.

But what if madness isn’t a flaw? What if it’s exactly what we need in a world where sanity has become its own kind of madness?

I always found it interesting how our teachers told us life would be easier when we became adults. They encouraged us to endure hardship for the promise of freedom in the university and beyond. But now that I think about it, it’s even more interesting that we believed them—when they were the clearest evidence that adulthood was no cakewalk. These very teachers often juggled a bunch of hormone-laden teenagers with teaching responsibilities, all while managing their busy personal lives. They sought opportunities to sneak in a nap or two between lessons and always hurried their lunch because their duties never ended with the school bell. A few weeks into the term, many were physically burnt out, and they often took it out on students.

This constant state of being “on” is what society hails as the hallmark of adulthood—the “normal, sane” thing to do. Only now, it’s starting to feel increasingly insane.

Maybe it’s only just dawning on me because I’m now in that phase. Every day feels like a rollercoaster of activities and responsibilities, to the point where being completely free almost feels wrong. We get so caught up in the stream of “doings” that we neglect the more important things in our lives until they suffer, and we suffer too. The toll cuts across our physical and mental wellbeing, our relationships, and even our performance in the very activities we’re consumed by. Fresh ideas have become scarce because there’s barely enough time to pause and think properly. Madness, if you ask me.

Now, like money and good health, pausing has become a necessity; an intentional deviation from the normal order of busyness, a deliberate step out of this relentless pursuit of hyper-productivity. A counter-madness, if you will.

We need to be able to pause, to break the endless cycle of activity for moments of reflection and meditation, of love and bonding, of devotion to the One who matters above all. Our lives will be better for it. It may start as five minutes, but let it grow, let it bud, until it becomes a rhythm—a lifestyle.

Maybe those five minutes of madness we had as children were really a primal urge to break free from the norm—a prophecy forewarning us that, in a world consumed by constant motion, we would one day need to embrace the madness of intentional stillness. It might just be the sanest path forward.

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I never forgot you, I just didn’t pause to think well enough and write. Thank you for the support thus far. And if you’re new, kindly subscribe below.