It came to me as a surprise, the sudden awareness of my felt need for rest.
I had known the year would be full of challenges, what with the bumps and scrapes of being newly married, the on-the-ground care in support for my parents; with my dad’s ill health and ultimate passing, the intense practice of training in aikido — the martial art of peace (ironic, yes?), not to mention daily work with clients.
Life was indeed full . . . and focused . . and frenzied.
Somehow, I hadn’t really considered that I’d be so tired . . . until I finally collapsed in a heap.
By the time I did notice, really notice, the extent to which I was overbooked, busy, and ‘always on the go-go-go’ as my dad would say, all I wanted to do was nothing. Not. A. Thing.
You see, I’d lost my rhythm, that natural interplay of energies between rest and work, between pushing to make things happen versus allowing life space for each moment to unfold.
It’s the kind of thing I warn clients about. How continuing to push hard too hard for too long, and not attending to basic personal needs will wear you down, zap you of your energy, make daily life more tense and twisted.
Worse, I knew better.
A fellow coach recently shared about her stressed out clients that ‘they always say, “I didn’t see it coming!”
That certainly echos my experience – over ten years ago. While I’d like to claim I’ve mastered this inherent tension, I’d be pulling your leg!
Learning to rest, our birthright, is an ongoing process of tuning into ourselves to recalibrate and adjust – on the fly!
Our bodies–our thinking capacity, our ability to ‘feel’ into ourselves and other’s concerns, to take effective action–require rest to recalibrate our psychobiological systems.
We require renewal to meet the challenges of the day.
We all know this, yet when we juggle so many responsibilities and opportunities it’s easy to get caught up in all the action, rationalize and create excuses, and lose sight of what’s most important.
Overcommitted and fearful of pushing pause to slow down, our energies float about in all directions like bits of confetti in the wind.
I’d fallen prey to what Annie McKee calls “the grip of the Sacrifice Syndrome.”
This vicious cycle of overmuch is fueled by the wear of weighty responsibility, mental and physical fatigue, and constant self-control in dealing with life’s inevitable crises. The Sacrifice Syndrome is a violent response to too much, for too long.
The result?
We get out of rhythm with ourselves, even to the point of burnout.
This wonky, out-of-whackness is infectious. It spreads to others, vis a vis strained relationship, dips in mood and self-confidence, impulsive or rash decisions, and certainly compromised health. Moreover, it’s supported by the very work structures we operate within. Ugh.
The antidote?
Rest and renewal. Sounds simple, right?
Nature as Resource
Nature is both powerful and easy, there’s a flow to how seasons unfold and life happens.
Nature has a rhythm, with cycles of light and dark, of growth and dormancy, of life and death. We’re nature too, a fact that we don’t often register or connect with, but it’s true.
We drive and strive, maintaining our busy lives for fear of not knowing who we really are (our identity wrapped up in performance or proving) and what we really care about.
Or, we’re uncomfortable with the silence of rest and renewal because we don’t remember who we are at our core. Worse, we’re worry we’re not good enough, or whole enough . . . and as a result we’re reluctant to slow down, afraid of an emptiness that we don’t know how to fill.
Yet, if we don’t slow to experience what’s within, we’ll continue to fill our calendars, and to-do lists with stuff to be done to fill the space.
Not so with nature. Nature is all about the space to unfold, breathe, and to give birth to care, and kindness, love and compassion, art and music, life.
We don’t gauge the value of the seasons by how quickly they progress from one to the next, do we?
As Wayne Muller, author of Legacy of the Heart and Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy Lives, has said, “When we know the seasons of things, we can feel their time, their readiness. There is less pushing, more waiting to see what is necessary.”
When we live without listening to the timing of things, when we live and work in 24-hour sprints without rest, we’re on war time, mobilized for battle – right?
Feel that tension now, even reading this? Good awareness :).
We can and do get work done, but at what cost?
Because there are greater rhythms at play that govern how life grows . . . and we are part of that creation story, subject to its laws and rhythms.
We must remember who we are, and relish in the rest, the moments, the conversations. Savor moments small and significant, that allow life’s unfolding to nourish us – giving and receiving, pulling away only to return.
“To surrender to the rhythms of seasons . . . is to savor the secret of life itself.”
It’s a tall order, and all that really matters in the end. To be fully alive, and rested and able to enjoy this life.
I’d love to hear what you believe about rest and its rewards or dangers. Drop me a line at drchris@q4-consulting.com.