Reclaiming Rest in a Culture of Constant Doing.

Have you ever noticed that voice in your head the moment you try to rest? The one that starts rattling off your to-do list like it's been waiting for this exact moment? I sure do. That familiar whisper that quickly becomes a demanding chorus of "you should be answering emails... preparing for tomorrow... finishing that project, and if you listen long enough, it often turns into something deeper, more cutting - "you're being lazy," "you don't deserve to rest," "everyone else is getting ahead while you're just sitting here" or whatever it may be.

I've spent years dancing with this voice. Even when I've carved out intentional time to rest, even when my body is literally crying out for pause, there it is - that mental chatter that makes true relaxation feel impossible. And here's the irony, I end up in this strange limbo, not actually resting at all but not really being productive either. Just caught in a swirl of guilt and mental list-making that leaves me even more exhausted.

Look around and you'll see why this happens. We're living in a world that celebrates constant motion, where taking a break feels almost rebellious. Our worth has somehow become tangled up with our productivity, as if stillness is just another word for falling behind. It's like we've all inherited this unspoken belief that rest is something we need to earn, rather than what it truly is, a natural rhythm as essential as breathing itself.

So I'd like to ask you what your relationship with the rest is like? When you pause to consider it, do you find yourself caught in patterns of postponing rest, or perhaps feeling guilty when you do take time to pause? And when you finally give yourself permission to rest, what does that look like? Are you scrolling through social media (not actually resting by the way), checking emails, or planning tomorrow's tasks? This is the kind of "rest" often leaves us feeling more depleted than refreshed, our minds still caught in the cycle of doing and consuming.

If you've already mastered the genuine art of rest, truly stepping away from productivity and allowing yourself to simply be - then kudos to you! You've achieved something rare in today's world. What did it take for you to get there? Was it a natural transition or did you have to consciously retrain yourself? Did you face resistance along the way, either from yourself or external pressures? And what differences have you noticed in your life since making this shift?

"It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society."

Jiddu Krishnamurti.

I've noticed, both through my own past experiences and in working with others, that many of us exist in what might best be described as a state of "functional freeze" - operating in a persistent state of burnout while still managing to meet our daily responsibilities. We continue moving through life, checking boxes and meeting deadlines, taking care of all the things, yet beneath this veneer of functionality lies a profound exhaustion that affects our wellbeing at every level. We are going through the motions of daily life while our nervous systems remain in a state of constant tension, which over time leaves us exhausted, wired, and oddly numb all at once. Or as Keanu (not the actual Buddha) tells us in the film "Little Buddha": If you tighten a string too much it will snap, and then it cannot play at all. Who knew Neo had such wisdom about rest?

The concept of "balance" can become another source of pressure - another thing we must perfect. Perhaps instead of seeking perfect balance, we might focus on finding moments of genuine presence and pause throughout our day. True rest - the kind that actually nourishes us, supports us, helps our brain and bodies repair - doesn't have to mean an hour-long meditation or a weekend retreat. It can be as simple as:

• Feeling the warmth of sunlight on your face for a few breaths

• Pausing to really taste your morning coffee, without checking your phone

• Taking a moment to feel your feet on the ground between meetings

• Looking up from your screen every now and then and letting your gaze soften on the distant horizon

• Watching clouds move across the sky

• Listening to the sound of rain while doing dishes

• Taking three conscious breaths before starting your car

• Sitting in your garden and just observing nature

• Laying down for five minutes and feeling your body's weight

• Standing outside at night and looking at the stars

• Giving yourself permission to do absolutely nothing for a few moments

These micro-moments of rest, when embraced fully and without digital distractions, can begin to shift our relationship with pause and stillness. They remind us that rest isn't just about duration - it's about the quality of our presence in these moments. When we truly allow ourselves to stop and be present, even for just a minute, we begin to remember what genuine rest feels like in our bodies.

Learning to Rest Can Be a Practice Too!

Rest, in its deepest sense, is not merely the absence of activity. It's a living presence, a way of being that allows us to sink beneath the surface noise of our lives and touch something essential and it feels really good, once you get used to it. Like the space between breaths, these moments of pause hold their own wisdom and purpose.

When we allow ourselves to truly rest, we're not just recovering from activity - we're entering a different state of being altogether. Here, in these quiet spaces, insights emerge naturally, creativity flows more freely, and we remember parts of ourselves that get lost in the rush of doing.

"Rest is not something to be mastered, but something to be surrendered to. In the art of doing nothing, we discover everything that matters."

But our resistance to rest runs deeper than personal habit - it's woven into the very fabric of our society. Social media never sleeps. Emails demand immediate responses. Success stories celebrate those who "hustle" and "grind," while moments of stillness are often seen as luxury or laziness.

Even our attempts at rest often carry the energy of doing - we try to "optimize" our relaxation, turn meditation into another task to complete, or feel guilty about taking time to simply be. We've forgotten that rest is not something we do, but something we allow ourselves to receive.

How Can We Reclaim Our Natural Rhythms?

Just as the moon doesn't apologize for its dark phase, or trees for their winter dormancy, we need not apologize for our need for rest or feel guilty for it. Our natural state includes both activity and stillness, doing and being, engagement and withdrawal. These rhythms are not opposite forces but complementary aspects of a whole and healthy life.

Learning to honor these rhythms might mean:

• Creating boundaries around work and technology

• Allowing ourselves unstructured time without goals or purposes

• Listening to our body's signals for rest without judgment

• Recognizing that rest enhances rather than diminishes our contributions

  
  

In moments of true rest, we often discover that what we've been seeking through endless activity has been here all along. The clarity we chase through doing often arrives naturally in stillness. The solutions we struggle to find often emerge when we stop searching so hard.

This is not about abandoning action or responsibility - it's about finding a more sustainable and wisdom-filled way of being. When we emerge from periods of genuine rest, we bring with us a different quality of presence to everything we do.

Could You Allow a New Relationship with Rest Emergence?

Perhaps the greatest gift we can give ourselves is permission to rest deeply and without guilt. To remember that our worth is not measured in output or achievements. To trust that when we honor our need for rest, we're not falling behind but falling back into alignment with our true nature.

In a culture that has forgotten the sacred nature of rest, choosing to honor these rhythms becomes both a personal healing journey and a quiet revolution. Each time we choose rest over rushing, being over doing, we're not just caring for ourselves - we're helping to create a world that remembers the wisdom and necessity of stillness.

Again, this remembering can start small, with moments of conscious pause, with breaths that we allow to be full and deep, with small pockets of time where we give ourselves permission to simply be. From these seeds, a new way of being can grow, one that honors both our capacity for action and our deep need for rest.

Rest is not a reward for doing enough - it's a vital part of being fully alive. In reclaiming rest, we reclaim something essential about our humanity, something that no amount of doing can replace.

"In a world that celebrates constant motion, rest becomes an act of courage. It's not withdrawal from life, but the deliberate choice to honor the rhythms that sustain it."

Just as we've learned patterns of constant doing, we can gently retrain ourselves to embrace rest. Like any new pattern, it takes practice - not the kind of striving practice that exhausts us, but a gentle, patient returning to what our bodies naturally know. If you'd like support in beginning this practice, here are a couple of practices that might support you. Cheers to practicing resting well.