If you are weary in this moment, you have permission to rest.
I dare you to shut your device right this second and go lie down.
If you are weary in this moment, you are invited to listen to your body.
What does my body need right now?
I find myself asking this question throughout the day, which is kind of radical.
Usually, I’m just blazing along, letting my mind with all of it’s shoulds be in the driver’s seat. Gotta do this, and that, and that…a to-do list a whole page long. And another one tomorrow.
I bet you’re making all kinds of great stuff…thinking up all sorts of new ideas.
When we create something new, it takes tremendous energy.
Sometimes I underestimate this and find myself running on fumes. Worn out. Tired.
Creating something new takes physical, mental and emotional energy.
Emotional energy because the act of creating something new makes us vulnerable. We are in unfamiliar territory. Exciting and scary all at once.
I’m guiding an online version of a class I’ve taught for decades in person. And still. It all feels new and vulnerable to me.
What will nourish me right now?
This is the writing prompt I’ve been playing with in my sketchbook upon waking. Revisiting throughout the day.
I want to live in a world where being well-rested is considered normal.
Where getting worn out with fatigue begs for an intervention from our kindreds. An intervention before we really need it.
Rest Is A Weapon
“Jason Bourne said rest is a weapon,” my friend Max told me on the phone today, sharing how I spent my morning writing, meditating, cooking, eating, napping (another two nap day). I wasn’t ready for my workday until two p.m. was feeling sort of guilty about it.
She couldn’t have given me a more perfect response or permission slip.
So naturally, I wanted to pass it on to you.
Rest is a weapon…this is going to be my journal prompt and mantra for now.
How about you?
Here’s a bit from the novel where this quote comes from:
“Suffice it to say it cannot be tapped and still function. … You need rest, monsieur. You are no good to anyone, least of all yourself, without it. Find a bed, I cannot help you there.”
” ‘Rest is a weapon,’ ” said Jason, repeating a phrase he had come to believe was a vital truth, vital for survival in a world he loathed.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing. I’ll find a bed and call you in the morning.”
“Tomorrow then. Bonne chance, mon ami. For both of us.”
He found a room at the Avenir, an inexpensive hotel on the rue Gay-Lussac. Registering under a false name, promptly forgotten, he climbed the stairs to his room, removed his clothes, and fell into the bed.
“Rest is a weapon,” he said to himself, staring at the ceiling, at the flickering lights of the Paris streets as they traveled across the plaster. Whether rest came in a mountain cave or a rice paddy in the Mekong Delta, it did not matter; it was a weapon frequently more powerful than firepower. That was the lesson drummed into his head by d’Anjou, the man who had given his life in a Beijing forest so that Jason Bourne might live.
Rest is a weapon, he considered, touching the bandage around his neck yet not really feeling it, its constricting presence fading as sleep came.
-Robert Ludlum (Jason Bourne, A Bourne Ultimatum)
How about you? How will you use rest as a weapon? Or just as a great journaling prompt?
Have you noticed how creating is energizing?
Now I’m feeling crafty, and have a wild hair to embroider “Rest is a Weapon” on my pillowcase. If any of you dare to do this, please do share a photo with me.