Defining rest

As I write to you, I'm sitting on a screened-in porch in the Catskill mountains. It has been raining for the last 24 hours. I pause to take in the pitter-patter of the rain. I watch as the verdant leaves surrounding the cottage collect the rain and periodically collapse, dropping the rain to the earth beneath them. It's lush, vibrant, and refreshing. The rain has enabled me to pause and truly rest.

So often when I take time away from the city to restore, I fill my time with activities. Driving into town for coffee, checking out a cute store, finding an adventure in nature. When I end up back at home, I find myself exhausted. Needing a vacation from my vacation.

This rain nourishes the parched, late summer earth. The trees and grasses draw in the much-needed hydration. And I too drink in the respite the rain creates. With the rain, a surrender to simply be, to stay, to rest.

And rest can mean a variety of things beyond sleep. Rest can be putting the phone done for an hour (or more) and taking in the environment around you. Rest can be going for an easeful walk. Rest can be eating simple foods. Rest can be sharing a conversation with a supportive friend. Rest can be taking time to stand and stretch after sitting at the computer for a while. Rest can be cuddling with a favorite pet or watering a favorite plant. Rest can be what gives you the nourishment you need.

And so as we move from the lulls of late summer into the frenzy of the fall, how might you identify moments of intentional rest to weave into your day?