GO
Rest. The word
makes my fingers stiffen and my brain go numb. Rest. It hisses from my mouth like a slur. Rest has always been the
thing in life that I have craved but have been so deplorably bad at. As I sat
down and stared at the word, I immediately thought, “Ugh. I should set a goal
to be better at resting.” Is that even possible? Can you put effort into
resting? Does that defeat the purpose?
I have so many memories of feeling uneasy lying by the pool
or ocean, sitting on the train, or sprawling out on the couch – shouldn't I be
doing something? The calmness of
attempting to rest only stirred up my need to be crossing an item off the to-do
list or working towards a goal.
I've always envied people who can really sink into rest. The
American culture is notoriously bad at it. I've always envisioned myself in
white billowy shirts traveling the word to zen-out on mountaintops or drink
fresh wine in a vineyard and learn how to become an American who can really rest (and get paid for it, of
course, in an Elizabeth Gilbert “Eat Pray Love” type of fashion). Until that
happens, what else can I do?
Rest is so essential to regenerate the core of our beings.
When we go throughout our days frazzled, sleepless, and overworked, we lose
bits of who we are. How did I get through all of these years without meaningful
rest? As I type this and sip on my afternoon cup of coffee, I think I have, in
fact, rested deeply throughout my life. It wasn’t in those moments when I tried
to force my mind to slow down but instead it was in those activities, like this
one, that surrounded me with words. I
have always found solace in words.
I think I need to stop berating myself for my perceived
inability to rest and instead express gratitude for the peace I find in the
written and spoken word. I find rest in having long phone calls with best
friends who understand me; I find
rest in short talks with strangers on the bus or at the grocery store; I find
rest in spilling my heart out in prayer; I find rest in conversations in the car with my boyfriend; I find rest in the lyrics of songs; I find rest in deep meaningful
conversations with my mother and silly talks with my niece; I find rest in resonating with novels, poems, and even blogs; and, I find rest in putting my
pen to the paper or my fingers on the keyboard. I find rest in this.
STOP
