This year has been a whirlwind of busyness. Weddings and funerals. Estate paperwork. Trips to Texas, Arizona and Florida. Relationships. Love. Sorrow.
And, still, there is hope. Hope is a four-letter word. That sounds so incredibly obvious. But the four-letter word that is my nemesis is the word, rest. I was recently reminded from a hippie friend from Singapore that I needed to remember that rest was a verb.
So, what did she actually mean by that? I believe that she was conveying to me that I needed to be active in my decision to rest. To realize that it was an action that I could choose to do or not do. So, the fact that I am writing this blog when my last post was in January, should send the message that I've slowed down for now. I am sitting on my patio writing.
But is slowing down enough? My sister and I hiked in Sedona a few weeks back and climbed up and over rocks for a round trip 7-mile hike which ended up with me sitting on a ledge in a cave hundreds of feet above the highest trees. I was red faced due to the exertion and the cold. I was cold because of the snow. I was tired because of the elevation gain. I was tired, but I rested at the top. I breathed in the essence of what that hike meant to me. It meant shared grief, shared hope and a lifelong bond. Although we did not stay too long at the top, I was able to imprint rest and a peaceful silence into my brain.
Part of me is constantly moving as I feel the need to catch those moments, but also to stay one step ahead of opportunities. I preach slowness and breathwork, even though from a physical perspective, it may not look like I slow down. But I really do. I take my mindfulness moments every day. I listen to my favorite music. My newfound joy now that the rain is gone is seeing my favorite hummingbird, Scarlet, flitting around the feeder in my backyard coupled with the melody of gentle windchimes singing the music of rest and peace.
I have not promised anyone that I would slow down, but I have heeded the guidance of many. Slow down, breathe in hope and grab the memories of those truly restful moments even in the grind of life. Although there are no promises to be broken, I am asserting for the next 8 weeks that I will rest, slow down until my next adventure which you guessed it...is in 8 weeks. I am viewing rest as a verb something that I'm actively choosing for now. It may be relative to the rest that others would think equals rest, but it is my version.
So, for now, grab those imprinted memories of rest even in the craziness of work schedules and family obligations. Make rest a verb - an action word.