I’m not proud of this, but I’m the type of person who buys books with titles like How to Do Nothing and listens to podcast episodes titled “How to Rest.”
The podcast, in particular, suggested that the best rest may not look the way I’d expect. It may not always be bed rotting or napping (which I’ve never been good at), but instead, restorative rest is a more active rest that engages our brains with things that bring us joy and fulfillment.
One of the hosts also asked, “What are the conditions under which good, restorative rest is even possible?” and said the answer will be different for everyone.
During a trip to Portland, Maine, I realized my answer is “perfect.” The conditions must be perfect.
I’m always moving. Not always my body, but always, always my mind. I overthink things that the people in my life who don’t have overactive minds didn’t even know could be overthought.
I bought a camera in January. A “real” camera. I spent more money on it than I usually spend on things. I said I needed to read a manual (I found a guy selling one online for $15!) or watch some instructional videos to find the best settings before I started using it. For months, I let the camera sit.
I got a bike from a friend of a friend. For months, the thought of riding on city streets, even the quiet ones in the neighborhood, made me nervous. I said I might need to take lessons or ride on a straight, flat, paved trail for the first few times, with my husband nearby on a bike just as fast, as if I didn’t know how to ride a bike (I do). I let the bike sit.
I’ve accumulated a lot of fun art. I wanted to use it all for a gallery wall, and I’ve moved into a new space with plenty of blank walls ready to fill. But I don’t know how to create one. I’ve skimmed a few articles on how to assemble gallery walls, but I’m not sure I have enough art to start a “proper” one (who gets to decide that?). The art is still sitting in a corner.
Not long before going to Maine, I picked up the bike and the camera. Something shifted—maybe I got tired of my growing, dusty pile of ambitions and intentions? I’ve known how to ride a bike since I was a child, so I decided to just ride. I ride multiple times a week now and start my car a bit less. With the camera, I just started shooting one day, and the more I did it, the easier it was to get the settings right.
What are perfect settings anyway? What are the perfect settings for rest? Or for work-life balance? Or to make time for hobbies, like finally sitting down to write like I am now? Too often, I have a long list of things I need or want to do for myself after work, and if I don’t have enough time or brain cells (the perfect conditions!) to do it all, I zone out and don’t do anything at all.
But sitting at the bar of a sushi restaurant in Maine, it finally dawned on me that the way I rest can be imperfect in my mind and still be exactly what I needed.
I can’t leave the state or the country every time I need rest. I have to figure out a way to turn my brain off at home and start starting things before I’ve checked off my made-up list of preparations, or I’ll be face-to-face with burnout soon. While my time in Portland was restorative, it takes more than four days in Maine to regulate a nervous system.
The perfect settings don’t exist, whether for every environment I may capture with my camera or for the rest my mind, body, and soul need outside of vacations.
The conditions for rest didn’t suddenly become perfect the moment I stepped into Maine’s perfectly temperate weather. Somewhere between biting into my third lobster roll, choosing to read and people-watch from a quiet coffee shop instead of packing the itinerary, and feeling the breeze in my hair as I rode down unfamiliar streets on a rented bike, I realized they didn’t have to be.
Oh. I relate to so much of this. Thanks for sharing your epiphany and best of luck being intentional about this at home!