Hello from the 19.48 train from London to Hull, in particular a window seat about three quarters of the way down Carriage J (or about three quarters of the way up, I guess, depending on how you look at it.). You see, I’ve had to write it in advance, diverging from my usual method of hammering it out on a Monday afternoon. The reasons for this are twofold: one, because the idea of me writing a newsletter on a train feels like something that the woman I want to be would do. Yes, don’t mind me, fellow /peasants/ passengers, here I am, writing some hilariously pithy treatise about enthusiasm, whilst on a train – an Azuma, no less – because my life is so exciting and full that I’m now just doing things on the hoof, on the fly, yes look at me go, I’m so impressive. (Whilst I do like to think that my life is both exciting and full, I would like to point out that I’ve spent most of the rest of this week at home, cautious as I am continuing to be in the 75th year of Coronavirus.) Which brings me to my second reason: I'm taking this week off. Like, off off! |
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And those two reasons, juxtaposed in their glorious contradiction, present you with everything you need to know about where my brain is at with the idea of rest, relaxation, and taking a break. That is to say: they're not natural bedfellows. For so many years - all of them, in fact, a full quarter century - I've worn my hatred of rest as a badge of honour, my opposition to relaxation as a source of pride. Whenever the copious plates I was spinning seemed in danger of collapsing, or losing balance, instead of taking one (or ten) away, I'd add one (or ten) more. That was equilibrium, in a way, right? RIGHT?!?! Now, of course, I've realised: this is not a sustainable, nourishing, nor useful way to conduct my life, and definitely not a way to do as Mary Oliver says and ‘let the soft animal of [my] body love what it loves.’ (I feel it's important to say - this isn't an email of total enlightenment either, because I still don't like resting. Though I don't actively, consciously believe this, I think that at some level I still think of sleeping, fundamentally, as a waste of precious hours when I could be doing other stuff…look, it's not an opinion I'm proud of, but it is an opinion I am of, unfortunately.) But 2 realisations about rest have really, really helped me reframe my relationship with it: - Rest can be active. If you're fluent in the language of exercise - unlike my good self - you'll probably already be familiar with the idea of active rest, as opposed to passive rest. Well, the same can be applied to rest: it doesn't have to be deep sleep for 24 hours at a time, it can be reading, walking, eating, etc - as long as it's restful and not too strenuous.
- Rest and restoration are linked, inexplicably. (Because I'm a wordnerd I looked up the etymology, and they're not actually connected: rest comes from ræst, which originally meant league or mile, aka the distance after which you'd need a rest; and restore comes from the Latin restaurare, which means…to restore.) Regardless, though they might not be similar in verb, I've realised they are similar in vibe. Rest, to me, feels inert, inactive, passive (as above), boring; restoration sounds juicy, vibrant, love-filled. And, like the Live Three Sixty post I think about legit daily says, what if we didn't let our cup run low in the first place? What if we consistently prioritised keeping it full? 🤯🤯🤯
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Here's a little window into what I'm enthusiastic about at the moment… |
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