We Need Permission to “Stop and Adore”

This past weekend in New York, I saw something that stopped me in my tracks: a one-man play based on Patrick Bringley’s memoir “All the Beauty in the World”—a moving reflection on grief, healing, and the ten years he spent as a security guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Even more remarkable? The actor performing it was Patrick Bringley himself.

My husband, my sister, and a few close friends sat together in a small 99-seat New York theater. Everyone was mesmerized—not just by the incredible writing, but by the way the space held the story.

The set was spare but poignant: three empty frames projected the artworks he described, a few simple benches evoked the galleries of the Met, and Bringley wore the security guard uniform he had once worn in real life.

It was deeply moving because he had lived the experience, written the book, and was now performing it.

Bringley left his job at The New Yorker after the devastating loss of his brother.

In search of stillness, he took a job at the Met—pacing the museum halls and letting the art help him make sense of life and loss.

Reflecting on a photograph of Georgia O’Keeffe by Alfred Stieglitz, Bringley writes:
“Sometimes we need permission to stop and adore, and a work of art grants us that.”

That line has stayed with me—not just because of its poetic beauty, but because it speaks to something we often forget in the workplace:

We all need permission to stop and be seen.

We move fast. We scan emails. We jump to solutions. We reward productivity over presence. And in doing so, we often overlook the people right in front of us.

What if we gave others the kind of attention Bringley gave to a painting—slow, reverent, curious?

What if we paused long enough to notice someone’s tone? To ask, “Are you okay?” and mean it? To celebrate not just results, but effort?

This isn’t just about kindness—it’s about connection, trust, and humanity at work.

Because when people feel seen, they speak up. They stay. They care.

Just like a museum guard slowly learns to see what others walk past, great leaders learn to see what others overlook. Not with grand gestures, but with simple moments of recognition and attention.

A piece of art invites us to stop, notice, and feel.

Great leadership can do the same.

Who around you might need to feel seen this week?