Rest is something deeply sacred to me. Deep, nutritive, life giving rest. Say it with me now. Deep nutritive life giving rest. I value rest above all material possessions. A couple months have gone by without writing Peach. Each edition of Peach I usually receive a word that will be the title of the piece. Then the words, poem, quotes filter in. It’s a lovely process that I am always surprised at the wholeness that can grow from these single word messages. I received the word Rest about a month and a half ago and kept putting it off. I suppose I was resting. But when I came across this quote from a beloved poet David Whyte I felt like he had written this edition for me. So I suppose in the name of rest, I humbly pass the baton.

‘REST

is the conversation between what we love to do and how we love to be. Rest is the essence of giving and receiving; an act of remembering, imaginatively and intellectually but also physiologically and physically. To rest is to give up on the already exhausted will as the prime motivator of endeavor, with its endless outward need to reward itself through established goals. To rest is to give up on worrying and fretting and the sense that there is something wrong with the world unless we are there to put it right; to rest is to fall back literally or figuratively from outer targets and shift the goal not to an inner static bull’s eye, an imagined state of perfect stillness, but to an inner state of natural exchange.

The template of natural exchange is the breath, the autonomic giving and receiving that forms the basis and the measure of life itself. We are rested when we are a living exchange between what lies inside and what lies outside, when we are an intriguing conversation between the potential that lies in our imagination and the possibilities for making that internal image real in the world; we are rested when we let things alone and let ourselves alone, to do what we do best, breathe as the body intended us to breathe, to walk as we were meant to walk, to live with the rhythm of a house and a home, giving and taking through cooking and cleaning.

When we give and take in an easy foundational way we are closest to the authentic self, and closest to that self when we are most rested. To rest is not self indulgent, to rest is to prepare to give the best of ourselves, and to perhaps, most importantly, arrive at a place where we are able to understand what we have already been given.

In the first state of rest is the sense of stopping, of giving up on what we have been doing or how we have been being. In the second, is the sense of slowly coming home, the physical journey into the body’s un-coerced and un-bullied self, as if trying to remember the way or even the destination itself. In the third state is a sense of healing and self-forgiveness and of arrival. In the fourth state, deep in the primal exchange of the breath, is the give and the take, the blessing and the being blessed and the ability to delight in both. The fifth stage is a sense of absolute readiness and presence, a delight in and an anticipation of the world and all its forms; a sense of being the meeting itself between inner and outer, and that receiving and responding occur in one spontaneous movement.

A deep experience of rest is the template of perfection in the human imagination, a perspective from which we are able to perceive the outer specific forms of our work and our relationships whilst being nourished by the shared foundational gift of the breath itself. From this perspective we can be rested while putting together an elaborate meal for an arriving crowd, whilst climbing the highest mountain or sitting at home surrounded by the chaos of a loving family.

Rested, we are ready for the world but not held hostage by it, rested we care again for the right things and the right people in the right way. In rest we reestablish the goals that make us more generous, more courageous, more of an invitation, someone we want to remember, and someone others would want to remember too.’

-‘REST’ From

CONSOLATIONS:

The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words.

© David Whyte & Many Rivers Press 2015

Thank you David Whyte for acknowledging so beautifully the necessity that is rest.

We are all here alive in this strange, painful and wondrous time, daughters of a decaying culture, giving birth to a future of spacious possibility. And for this we must rest. All the messages buzz around us, provide, finish the dishes, make the food, save the world. And yes of course we must do these things. And yet there are moments of choice. Should I run those errands that could possibly wait? Drift onto my phone when I could simply go to bed? Or can I just for this moment grow silent, pour the tea, and rest. This is a call for myself and maybe all of us, to cast off the clutter of an overly driven society that tells us that if we are not ‘doing’ we are not worthy or lazy. To find spaces in between to feel the clear water of the spaciousness that is the act of silent listening. This is how the holy can enter. We have forgotten.

How will we ever know which way to go if we do not rest? Rest to reintegrate the volatility in the world. Rest to honor that which enters silken silence. Rest to honor our bodies that do so very much. Rest so that we can rise again, nourished. Imagine. I hear a voice whispering yes that’s right my child, rest, stroking my forehead and smiling. That’s right. Put down the weight. I know you are so very tired. It is alright now. We are held. Rest and the world we have been holding will not fall. And in this very rest we realign with our own quiet truth, sooth our weary bones and practice letting it all fall away. And from this place of deep surrender if you stay long enough, the tender shoots of new life will surely grow.

Sending so much love to all you remarkable women,

Jamie

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