When you are reading this word \u2013 breathtaking \u2013 what are your first associations?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Some weeks ago, I would have said: the experience of sunrise, seeing and inhaling the moist early morning meadows, colorful clouds, a piece of (your) art I can connect to, \u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Something that touches me deep inside. Something that resonates with me.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n After having followed recent news \u2013 breathtaking \u2013 for me, provokes also other associations. The sentence above still applies though: It takes my breath away because I am touched<\/em>, or more: shaken<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Something that can take your breath away does not take an hour \u2013 it can happen within an instant, a moment, a second. Leaving a deep imprint. Also the tiniest action, protecting something breathtaking<\/em> or standing up for something that takes our breath away<\/em>, i.e. shakens us, can leave a deep imprint (and potentially save lives!). Change circumstances. Situations. Slowly but steadily, realities<\/em>. And this can start by speaking up in the right moment, making use of one\u00b4s own voice or creatively creating awareness (I recommend social justice advocate Anastasia Higginbotham\u00b4s book \u201cnot my idea<\/a>\u201d).<\/p>\n\n\n\n Why do we often not speak up?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n If something literally takes our breath away \u2013 something happens to us. Physically. Psychologically. If something has the power to take our breath away, be it for the beauty, or in contrast: the cruelty of what we see in front of our eyes \u2013 that\u00b4s a strong sign.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I claim: Both is worth to stand up for.<\/p>\n\n\n\n