Wander 11: Receiving Rest

One of the greatest teachings that I am a continual student of is the importance of REST.  I need reminding that true rest is a passionate acceptance of life rather than a laziness or an apathetic inertia. There is a spaciousness that comes from a surrendering rest that is precious. Even as I pause between sentences to take a moment to feel, to notice my body on this couch, pen in hand, wind ripping outside—I am aware of a sense of warmth that begins to fill my body.

This year has required much from all of us and has many potentially exhausting aspects. It is filled with lessons, challenges, and BIG questions that are asking much of our society, our families, our selves, our planet. Integration requires rest. Like savasana at the end of your yoga class. Our sleep is one form of the rest we need—providing us with a nightly dose of healing. When we lack this—as we all know—we become a lesser version of ourselves.

But what about REST, in a nest—and without phones, food, alcohol, netflix distractions, stockpiling, this blog, the news. When I was reflecting on what to write for this post, Rest was the directive that kept coming up. Though I was confused by it.

My invitation this cycle is to take a restful wander.

Sometimes rest is forced upon us. We go unwillingly, resentfully, guiltily. Guilt before rest is like taking a double shot of espresso before sleep. It is quite a different experience to surrender to it. To lean into the acceptance of it. It requires receiving the gift of my own body’s resilience, Earth’s resilience as She is in me. As She is in the rock or tree or bed, I might nest in to rest. This kind of Rest—especially in the face of what can feel like incredible urgency, requires humility and a sense that we are not in control.

For a week when I was pregnant I went to the woods on retreat with a group of other women. As part of the program our guides encouraged the participants to keep vigil one night in the wilderness. When we had arrived there had been snow on the ground, and I was in deep internal conflict about my state. Part of me felt so desirous to go out and be with the Earth all night, and to satiate the part of me that wants to always do my best, do it right and get the most out of an experience. But my body, who is part of the Earth, didn’t want to go. I eventually surrendered to her wishes and spent the night in my tent, which I had adorned with tree branches to turn into a nest, so that the Earth might come to me. As I lay awake that night in my tent, still sipping my caffeinated cup of guilt, I heard a small voice say “mama, it’s okay to rest.”

Mama, it’s okay to rest.

So Rest Friend, Rest. The moon will be large again soon, and there will be time to see more clearly.