Between two heartbeats

There is a rhythm beneath every life-the steady rise and fall of the heartbeat, marking time in its quiet certainty. Yet few of us pause to think about what lies between those beats - the stillness that separates one from the next. We measure our lives by movement, by progress, by the visible pulse of achievement, but perhaps the truest measure of being alive is found not in the beating itself, but in the silence between two heartbeats.

In that pause, almost invisible, almost inaudible, there lies a world of meaning. The heart beats because it must, yet it rests because it can. That delicate balance between motion and stillness, between effort and ease, mirrors the rhythm of a life well-lived. The poet Rumi once wrote, “Silence is the language of God; all else is poor translation.” In that small silence, before the next beat begins, we touch something of the divine, the calm that holds together all chaos. Think of an ordinary day. We wake to alarms, rush through routines, speak endlessly, scroll mindlessly, work relentlessly. But in between those waves of motion, there are flickers of stillness ,sipping morning tea before the first call, watching light fall through a window, taking a breath before answering an angry message. Those fleeting moments are what the heart experiences between beats, pauses that make endurance possible.

When we begin to notice these spaces, life changes texture. Silence, once awkward or empty, starts to feel alive. As Lao Tzu wrote, “To the mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders.” The still mind, like the resting heart, is not idle. It gathers strength. It observes. It prepares for the next rhythm.

In practical life, this truth appears everywhere. A leader who pauses before reacting avoids needless conflict. A teacher who allows silence after a question gives students space to think. A doctor who listens more than speaks heals beyond medicine. Even in personal relationships, love grows not in the noise of constant words but in quiet presence, the comfort of sitting beside someone who understands without needing to explain.

Music offers a perfect metaphor. Notes alone do not make melody; silence gives them shape. Without the rests between notes, sound becomes noise. So it is with life, the spaces of rest define the music of our existence. We find clarity not in constant motion but in still intervals. As the Japanese concept of ma teaches, beauty lies in the space between things, between sound and silence, action and inaction, presence and absence.

The same holds true for the human heart. It never beats continuously; it needs a pause, however brief, between beats. That moment of rest is essential for its survival. If the heart were to beat without stopping, it would die of exhaustion. In that sense, the silence between two heartbeats is not weakness , it is wisdom. It is the pause that sustains life.

So too in emotional life. We often fear stillness because it forces us to face what noise conceals, the ache of unfulfilled desires, the memory of things lost, the uncertainty of who we are. The silence between two heartbeats can feel like loneliness, but it is in that quiet that healing begins. It is where we meet ourselves without disguise.

When grief strikes, or love ends, or the future becomes uncertain, the world seems to hold its breath. Everything slows. That silence is painful, yet necessary. It allows the heart to reorganize itself. The cracks begin to mend, and new rhythm emerges. Pain teaches us to appreciate the next beat , to recognize that even the smallest pulse of joy is a miracle after silence.

The mystic Kabir captured this beautifully: “Between the conscious and the unconscious, the mind has set a swing: all earth and heaven are sitting there.” Between what we know and what we cannot know, between action and reflection, between two heartbeats, there lies the swing of existence.

If we look closely, every meaningful moment in life has that silence at its center. The pause before saying I love you. The breath you take before forgiving someone. The stillness after hearing bad news. The quiet that follows laughter. These are not gaps to be filled, they are the essence of experience.

To live fully, then, is to honour the silence as much as the sound. To rest when the world demands movement. To listen when there is nothing to say. To let stillness teach what words cannot. The practical world may value speed, but the heart values rhythm. It asks us to slow down enough to feel the spaces in between.

In love, work, or friendship, the same principle applies. The best conversations have pauses that breathe honesty. The best work comes from minds that rest as much as they think. The best relationships grow in the space where words end and understanding begins.

Even death, the greatest silence, is but a longer pause between two unknown beats of existence. Perhaps the soul, too, needs its rest before it begins anew.

To live with awareness of this rhythm is to live gently, neither clinging to movement nor resisting rest. It is to know, as somebody wrote, “Silence is not the absence of something, but the presence of everything.”

In the end, when our days grow slower and the world turns soft around us, what will remain is not how many times our heart beat — but how deeply we lived in the silences between.

Muneeb Afzal, JKAS officer.