The Art of Rest
I’ve been talking about going slow this month and how much I can struggle with that concept.
The more I write about it, the more conscious I become of my pace.
Most of my adult life has been informed by the belief that speed is better…that it makes life rich and full, you get a lot done, you feel more successful.
A client recently likened this process around pace to a treadmill. I couldn’t help but add on to this perfect analogy:
Early on in your career you’re walking at a manageable pace. You have fewer responsibilities, more energy, lots of drive. This initial speed feels doable – and you begin to crave more. Gradually you increase your pace at a rate that doesn’t cause you to notice much. You begin to add more responsibilities and perhaps a couple kids, but you don’t adjust the pace to make room for the heavier load. Or your age or stress. Before you know it, you’re running so fast you could fall at any moment.
It can feel terrifying when you’re walking the tightrope of two worlds:
- Running fast means you’re producing endorphins, burning calories, making things happen. If you stop you might miss out on the movement and success it feels like you’re creating.
- Slowing down feels scary and even unnatural.
A smart friend recently gave me a book about rest, with a list of symptoms indicating you’re missing this critical thing in your life. I’m curious how much you see of yourself here?
We could all use more rest than we’re getting.
Okay. So, how?
It feels ironic, but somewhere along the way the simple act of resting got hard.
The thing that’s supposed to require no effort, feels harder than the things that are so effortful.
We’re so good at practicing fast as a default mode of operating, we’ve forgotten how to gear down to slow. Both gears make our worlds go round.
As I sat with this in July, two significant things happened:
I took a week off of writing because sometimes you just need a break. It helped me re-evaluate how I want to look at this practice moving forward.
Secondly, I decided to name some small, but intentional steps to help me break the cycle of speed. A little how-to. I’m sharing that here, in case it inspires something similar for you:
- Walking, not running (or speed walking), to anything outside of exercise, even if I’m late. This is actually really hard.
- Taking AND reading, a book or magazine while I wait – in line, for my family, whatever. Bonus level: I do nothing but think and focus on something or someone around me. This is also hard, but my nervous system loves it.
- Turning off (and not reading) my text messages for specific periods of time. I talk a lot with clients about how “office hours” changed my life when I physically worked with my team. It hadn’t occurred to me to make office hours for my texts. I bet my nervous system will love this, too.
These won’t feel natural until I build a new practice around them. Maybe you’ll find a different practice, too.
Half the battle once you realize you need change, is reminding yourself how to do that thing again.
And no matter who you’re leading – yourself, your company, your team or your family, the willingness to go slow, be present and rest has everything to do with the depth at which you experience life.
When I take a bird’s eye view of myself during my daily routine, I want to like what I see.
Do you? Or do you want to slow down – even just a little? Your nervous system might thank you.