I think about rest and the gentleness to be found amid fast-moving days and nights that never last long enough for fullness of sleep. I think about the beauty of words like quietude, stillness, moment, reflection, breath, solitude, tranquility.
I remember childhood days, reading beneath covers late into the night by flashlight to see what would happen next. I didn't care so very much about rest in those days. I wanted to see and be and go and do.
Years pass and I change. I learn that rest is a necessity for thriving. I learn that rest is a gift to be sought after and treasured---a gift deserving of time and attention.
For it is the quiet moments that lead to the truest of ideas---the ones that mean the most when I reflect and remember. It is the stillness that comes when the sun leaves the world and the only sounds are a fan spinning and the soothing breath of my husband's sleep. It is the brief intermissions between to-dos and places-to-be that allow for reassessment. It is the sweet moments of pause when I remember how to listen, taking note of thoughts instead of leaving them to swirl around or setting them aside for the time being, which rarely find a way to resurface.
Without space for pause, I burn away energy until I am left with only weariness and a fatigued spirit.
So, I prod myself to sink into the sofa cushions and lift my feet into the air as though I'm walking on the ceiling. I watch my shadow for a while and remember how the pretty light and I used to play together more often. I soak in conversations of those nearby and smile at their -isms. I notice the rhythm of stitches as I knit, knit, knit, and marvel to see that each movement makes something grow over time.
I pause and try to notice what I might have otherwise missed.