In the summer of 1991, I was walking in a Swiss train station with my husband, who carried our one-year-old baby on his shoulders. We were returning to our home in Lausanne near Lake Geneva after having been traveling for some time by train. My daughter was happily holding onto my husband's neck and hair for support, while he carried two suitcases (his and hers) in his arms.

I walked behind my husband several paces back, carrying my suitcase and noticing with increasing concern that our daughter had released her grip on my husband's hair. I could see that she was now happily waving her arms free, so they rose and fell with each step he took as she bounced along.

Very suddenly and without warning, our daughter bounced up and free of her dad's shoulders and began falling, back, head-first towards the hard marble floor of the train station. I realized with a sudden shock that there was no way he could stop her from falling, since both his hands were gripping their two suitcases, and she was falling much too quickly for him to react in time. I was about twelve feet behind him... much too far away to catch her as she fell, since she was going down FAST.

I felt a rush of emotions flooding me with energy and I realized that I desired with all my heart and soul to somehow catch her.

In the very next moment, I felt myself continuing to walk forward at my normal speed, while everything and everyone around me moved more and more slowly. It seemed that everyone walking nearby began moving in slow motion. The normal high-pitched sounds of high-heeled footsteps clicking on marble tiles slowed and softened to a low hum along with everything else, as everything except me slowed to a state approaching suspended animation.

I was overjoyed to be able to easily catch up to my husband just as our daughter fell freely into my arms! I felt I was walking at a fast but still perfectly normal speed as I covered the vast distance between us while I could see my daughter was no longer falling... she and everyone else was almost perfectly still.

When I caught my daughter, time resumed its normal flow once again, and everyone around me began moving at normal speed. Nobody seemed to stop and stare at me (I later wondered if it looked to others like I was moving forward at super-human speed), and I was simply too overwhelmed with emotions of love and gratitude to stop passers by and ask them what they'd noticed.

If you've read books like The Ending of Time by J. Krishnamurti and David Bohm, or Time, Space, and Knowledge by Tarthang Tulku, then you are familiar with the idea that we can psychologically access a place where time stands still. What I've discovered is that the concept of time slowing to a stop is not merely an imaginary analytical notion, but is a tangible, real-life experience that could happen to you.





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