Tag: rest

Rest, Don’t Quit

Last week, I got up every day well before sunrise and kicked in with all eight barrels wide open and didn’t leave the studio until long after that ole sun had dipped below the horizon. For the last few months, large overlapping projects, no breath in between. No real pause. Just that headlong push— the kind, I admit a part of me relishes, leaning into the body temple like it’s an infinite source of fuel. Please note: even the most well built temple can crumble if it’s not respected. And truth be told, I’ve been known to test the limits of this vessel far too many times. Not out of recklessness—but out of love for the work, out of fire for the vision, and sometimes, if I’m honest, out of a lurking fear that if I stop, something might slip away.

Despite rapper and entrepreneur 50 cent’s declaration “Get Rich Or Die Trying”, pursuing your purpose shouldn’t have to kill you. Even the sun goes down. There’s a lesson the great orb in the heavens teaches every evening if we’re still enough to notice. That golden glow of descension isn’t a sign of quitting—it’s a sacred cue to transition. A reminder that even light knows when to rest. That beauty doesn’t just live in the blaze of midday hustle—but in the hush, the slow fade, the surrender, the rest.

Yet we so often glorify the grind (I’m not totally against it), wear exhaustion like a badge, and limp with a smirking pride. What if rest isn’t the enemy of progress—but its partner? What if stepping back now and then is how you step forward with intention? What if your goals need your soul to be whole and rested to rise? I’m learning continuously, even now, that discipline isn’t just about how hard we push. It’s really not so much about how fast or furious we plant, but how deliberate. Even then, we have to wait for the increase. It’s about knowing when to pause. Not to quit, but recalibrating. Not burning out, but burning slow and steady so the flame lasts. So this is me, telling myself and sharing with anybody else who needs to hear it. When the sun sets, let it be a cue. Let the studio close. Shut it down. Let the body breathe. Let the mind drift. Let the spirit sit in its quiet strength. It’s ok to rest. Just don’t quit.

Sabbath

Just over a year ago, I resolved to honor myself through, by, and for the work I do. Yes, I recognize that the work is the path to purpose, the production. However, there is no production without a producer. Therefore honoring myself with adequate rest and rejuvenation became more of a priority. I admit, however, with my imagination output and the resulting schedule, it’s been no easy task. It’s easy for me to run my body at breathtaking speeds and relentless productivity levels, simply because it will. I also know that it is not sustainable. At some point the piper must be paid.

As a child, I grew up in an ultraconservative religious household. Each week beginning on Thursday afternoons, we began preparation for the Sabbath. I recall one of my task was to use mayonnaise to clean and gloss the plant leaves. That, I did with tenderness and pride, leaving the leaves shiny and radiant. We shined the silver, did the dishes, ironed clothes, and Mom prepared the largest meal of the week all in preparation for our time of rest. By sunset Friday a calming hush had come to our humble abode. For the next 24 hours we were immersed in restfulness, reading, nature, communion, and religious services. The sabbath would be closed out with song, “day is dying in the west, heaven is touching earth with rest…” We recognized the sabbath as the seventh day of the week as noted in the Torah in the book of Exodus, verses 8-11. From a little tot on up, each week we would recite the verses beginning with “Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.”

The ultimate reason for the sabbath was rest. No just a casual rest but a deep abiding, reconnecting rest that would bring healing from the week and prepare us to meet the week to come.”Six days, it says we have to do all of our work but the seventh day, a day of rest, belongs to the divine, to rejuvenate and recreate us as sound human beings to maintain the embodiment of that divine. Otherwise we find ourselves depleted, scattered an mind, body, and spirit, operating in a capacity far lower than our capabilities. This weakened state affects us in every aspect of our existence from our individual health to our relationships. Yet we continue to push, push, push, until we crash. We consistently circumvent our internal preservation mechanisms, crying desperately for the slow down, by drowning it out with artificial adrenaline we call caffeine. Eventually, as I stated earlier, the piper will be paid.

A few weeks ago, I picked up a book entitled Sabbath, by Wayne Muller. The understated cover of the paperback book reached out to me from the shelf. It felt soothing in my hands with it’s earthy colors woodland imagery. It’s subtitled Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight In Our Busy Lives. For me it was a much needed reminder to reincorporate the joy and balance of the Sabbath in my life. The verse admonishes us to remember the sabbath, as though it was known that we would be prone to forget it. The sabbath is for everyone. We can start by designating specific times each week for rest and reflection. This sacred time can be marked by personal rituals—like lighting a candle or spending time in nature—to signal a transition into relaxation. Disconnecting from screens and social media during these hours allows for true rejuvenation, while engaging in meaningful activities—reading, hiking, or connecting with loved ones—nurtures our spirit. Incorporating mindfulness practices can deepen our presence, and sharing this time with family or friends fosters community and connection. Reflecting through journaling can also provide clarity and purpose. By intentionally embracing these practices, or different ones that serve you, we can reclaim the essence of the Sabbath, fostering a deeper life beyond the rat race pace that goes beyond mere existence and invites of to be a pART of the remedy toward healing our rest deprived world.