Two-year-old Summer was running through the house in full delight one day when she slipped and fell. She began wailing. Her mom could tell the injury wasn't serious, but she made her way over and gathered Summer up. Holding her in her lap as Summer cried, Sanni said calmly, "That was surprising, wasn't it?" Little Summer gulped, looked up at her mom, and nodded. Her tears quieted as she considered the question.

I've witnessed this technique many times — both of my kids have offered it to their own children in moments of sudden, unexpected pain. A child's instinct is to react in terror and fear without pausing to assess the damage. But the question That was surprising, wasn't it? immediately opens a gap between the event and the reaction — a small doorway into contemplation. Am I too hurt to continue playing, or can I still play? More often than not, the tears quickly abate, and the child brushes herself off and resumes playing.

It's a good technique. One we could all benefit from.

Even knowing this, even witnessing it firsthand, I somehow didn't apply it to my own fully grown adult life until a conversation one night with dear friends during our midweek meeting call.

Friends Lead the Way

For over twenty years, a small group of us — Quaker Friends — have been gathering by teleconference. Each week, we read a piece of writing aloud and then offer our reflections. It's a contemplative practice more than a discussion — closer to an opportunity to be witnessed as we consider how a piece of writing moves us. The only rule is not to interrupt when someone has the floor, and to give everyone a chance to speak.

We each bring our own life experience to the process. Sometimes another person's observation lands somewhere deep and stays. I don't remember what we were reading the night one participant shared a small trick she had discovered — but I've never forgotten what she said. When she noticed her body and mind suddenly reacting to something unexpected and alarming, she had learned to whisper to herself: Isn't this surprising?

That little phrase, she said, immediately created space. It quietly reframed the incident as more than just horrifying — and gave her a moment to reassess before responding.

Reframing Catastrophe as Surprise

Several of us took her comment to heart. In the weeks that followed, when something unexpected happened — a personal blow, a troubling piece of global news — I often caught myself asking Isn't this surprising? instead of plunging straight into Oh my god, this is terrible.

Just as a child pauses to check in with her body after an unexpected tumble — How hurt am I, really? — we too can use the reframe of surprise over catastrophe to create just enough space to respond rather than react. It works not only with physical pain but with emotional pain, too: when someone you love says or does something that runs counter to everything you were thinking; when those in authority make decisions that stun you.

A Tiny In-Breath — A Job for the Brain

It's a good trick because it gives the brain a small, specific job to do. To answer, the brain must pause and actually consider the question — Isn't this surprising? — measuring the moment against everything it knows. That pause is where the magic lives. That tiny in-breath resets us.

Not much is needed. Just the question.

Juicy Practice

This week, consider carrying the phrase Isn't this surprising? with you as a quiet companion. The next time something catches you off guard — a piece of news, a sharp word, a sudden ache — try whispering it to yourself before anything else. Not as a denial of what you're feeling, but as a gentle act of self-inquiry. Notice what the pause makes possible.

Closing Reflection

Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.

— widely attributed to Viktor Frankl

Good News

Naked in the Now: Juicy Practices for Getting Present recently climbed to the top 10 in New Age Nonfiction on Amazon. Thank you to everyone who has read it, shared it, and carried it with you.

Upcoming Events

• “On Love” Panel — San Diego Writers Festival | March 28, 4 pm Room 509, | I'll be moderating a panel on love. Come say hello!
• Las Vegas Writers Conference | April 23–25 | I'm teaching three workshops: The Joy of Writing Under a Pen Name: Plus 7 Hot Tips If You Do (Thurs. April 23, 4 pm), Naked Writing Workshop: Writing from presence, not Perfection (Sat, April 25, 10 am), and Sensory Awakening for Writers (Sat. April 25, 3 pm).
• Write by the Sea | Mondays at 2 pm PDT | An intimate writing group, by invitation — but feel free to ask!
• Write by Red Rock | First Wednesday of April | In-person at the Blue Diamond Library, 12:30 pm.
• Write Now Mind | New 4-week course coming in April — stay tuned!

Smiles,

​https://marijkemccandless.com

​Kirkus Reviews endorses Naked in the Now!​

​Unsubscribe | Update your profile | 600 1st Ave, Ste 330 PMB 92768, Seattle, WA 98104-2246

Photo on right credit: bruno-figueiredo on unsplash