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Dear ones, A couple of weeks ago, I came down with a late winter cold out of nowhere. I went from feeling fabulous in the morning, to sneezing all afternoon, to that unmistakable sinking feeling of a sore throat by dinner. By the time I woke the next morning, I was unmistakably sick. Despite all the ways I genuinely take care of myself and my immune system, something got through. Bodies are humbling that way. I tried to simply surrender to reality – to accept that while it’s never a good time to be sick, it would not last forever. What I needed, more than anything else, was rest (and fluids). So I (sadly) cancelled All The Things. I gathered my tissues and my library book, and laid myself down. Meanwhile, the world was being pushed into another war – which, last time I checked, is still harmful to every living thing. I couldn’t watch the news. Not because I don’t care, but because I was remembering my own wisdom: rest is not an escape from the world. It is an act of sustainability – and in my case, a way of getting healthy again – within it. It can be a form of putting on your own oxygen mask first. It’s a particular kind of permission we rarely give ourselves – to stop, to be (arguably) “unproductive,” to let time simply be open. We often wait until we’re flattened by illness, overwhelmed by grief, or exhausted to our marrow before we allow it. However, rest isn’t something we only earn after collapse. How can we chose rest practices every day, in ordinary ways? Not easy, I know, but I have faith in all of us. The arc of the future needs us rested and resilient. One way to practice that kind of intentional pause is to step into a space that’s designed for it. If that calls to you, Ari, Christina, and I are offering a spacious Spring Equinox mini-retreat on March 21 – an afternoon of yoga, sound bath, and cacao ritual to rest, reflect, and welcome the turning of the season. With love and abiding,
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