Rest has always been a difficult thing for me to allow myself. I believe I haven’t earned it, that I haven’t done enough, produced enough, achieved enough; or on my worst days – that I haven’t honored the energy that makes me up, that I don’t deserve to be here. I hate when people tell me to rest or relax. It makes me feel like a foreigner, like they know nothing about me. I hate when other people decide for me that I deserve to rest, or moreover, that rest is what I need.
As I’ve gotten older, my edges around this have softened (a little). As usual for me, nature is my greatest teacher. I observe the patterns and behaviors of the squirrels, my neighbor’s Muscovy ducks, dogs, plants, and the deer that trek across my yard every night. None of nature’s creatures seem to consider if they’ve earned rest or not.
They rest because it is critical for their survival. It is their responsibility to rest, a necessary part of their beautiful and brutal existence.
In the winter months, the natural world rests. Animals hibernate, plants are dormant; each conserving and restoring their energy for the emergence of spring. I am getting better at the practice of resting. When I see it as a responsibility, as a way to find strength in surrender, it is easier to swallow.
Yesterday, I wasn’t feeling well. As the day went on, I gradually felt worse and worse. My muscles ached, my eyes were burning, and I just felt generally fatigued. The body knows, and this time I listened. I snuggled up in my cozy living room, with the electric fireplace on, my fuzzy white blanket, and the Christmas lights aglow – and I rested. This morning, I finally slept past 5 AM for the first time in over a week.
I woke up feeling that I’d honored my true nature, that I embodied rest as a responsibility. That by taking care of my need for rest, I was doing something good for myself, and as an extension, for those I love.
It is my nature to drive hard towards improvement, I am constantly looking within and doing the internal and external work to progress. And I’m beginning to accept that sometimes, the “work” is simply to rest.
Quinn Steele 