Sometimes the most important thing is the rest between two deep breaths. — Etty Hillesum
—What lingers after this line?
One-minute reflection
What does this quote ask you to notice today?
A Sacred Pause in Ordinary Time
Etty Hillesum’s line turns attention away from the breath itself and toward the interval that separates one inhale from the next. At first glance, the “rest” sounds almost incidental, yet she suggests it may be the most important part—the moment when striving stops and life is simply allowed to be. In that small gap, urgency loosens its grip, and experience becomes more spacious. This idea reframes calm not as an escape from reality but as a subtle, available practice within it. By valuing the pause, Hillesum implies that meaning is often found not in grand actions but in the quiet transitions that keep us human.
Presence Instead of Performance
Building on the importance of the pause, the quote also critiques a common impulse to treat life as a sequence of tasks to complete—inhale, exhale, achieve, repeat. The “rest” interrupts performance and invites presence. It is the moment when we are not pushing air in or out, not fixing or planning, and therefore can notice what is actually happening. In practical terms, this can look like stopping mid-day to feel your feet on the floor before answering an email, or letting a conversation breathe before responding. The pause becomes a doorway from automatic living to attentive living.
Stillness Under Pressure
Hillesum wrote from the brutal context of Nazi-occupied Amsterdam, and her diaries and letters—later published as *Etty Hillesum: An Interrupted Life* (written 1941–1943)—repeatedly return to inner steadiness amid external collapse. With that background, the “rest between two deep breaths” reads not as a luxury but as a survival skill: a way to find a foothold when circumstances offer none. Rather than denying fear or grief, the pause makes room for them without letting them dictate every next move. In that interval, one can regain choice, even if only for a second, and that second can be enough to remain intact.
What the Body Already Knows
From there, the quote aligns with what many contemplative traditions and modern somatic approaches observe: the nervous system recalibrates in moments of safety, however brief. The rest after a deep breath can signal to the body that it is no longer in immediate danger, allowing tension to soften and perception to widen. Even without technical language, Hillesum captures an embodied truth: we do not only think our way to clarity—we breathe our way there. The pause is a physiological and psychological reset, a natural hinge where overwhelm can diminish and composure can return.
Making Space for Wisdom and Compassion
Once the pause is recognized, it becomes more than calm—it becomes discernment. In the gap between breaths, reactions slow down enough for a wiser response to appear. A harsh reply can be reconsidered; a fearful assumption can be tested; a moment of kindness can slip in before defensiveness takes over. In this way, the “rest” is also moral space. Hillesum’s broader writing emphasizes protecting an inner life capable of love even in dehumanizing times, and the pause is where that capacity is renewed—quietly, repeatedly, without spectacle.
A Small Practice With Lasting Reach
Finally, the line offers a simple discipline: notice the pause, and let it lengthen your sense of time. You can try two slow breaths and then deliberately attend to the still point after the second inhale—no analysis, just awareness. Over days, this trains a steadier relationship to stress, because you begin to trust that a refuge exists inside the flow of events. Hillesum’s insight is that life’s weight is not carried only by effort; it is also carried by the tiny rests that prevent the soul from being crushed. Between two deep breaths, we remember we are more than what presses on us.