Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.”—Anne Lamott
I laughed out loud when I read this quote. I am not what you would call “tech savvy.” I get along fine with the usual tasks, but I am absolutely the kind of person who just switches electronic things off and back on again to solve problems. This method has proven successful a surprising number of times.
That being said, the words most striking, and most valuable, are the last two. Including you. Including all of us. We have to unplug, don’t we? Now, I don’t necessarily mean “unplug” like a week in the mountains with no Wi-Fi, although that would be lovely. What I mean is that we can unplug in lots of accessible ways, while balancing the demands of our everyday lives.
The new school year means teachers and parents are firmly planted in a season of constant motion and ever-growing to-do lists. We have homework and lessons and practices and tutoring and games and projects and concerts and a truly endless stream of activity. I do not mean to imply we shouldn’t do these things. What I am suggesting is that we remember to rest. Perhaps we can even remember to rest before we are forced to. Before we, like an old printer, have to be unplugged to work again.
The months ahead are going to be bananas. My meticulously color-coded calendar looks like someone has nearly completed a highly unimaginative coloring book. I know I will need to use every trick in my book to rest, so I have planned for it. An evening alarm will be set to make hot tea. My outfits will be chosen in advance so my mornings can move a little more slowly and require one less decision. This afternoon, I had just a few minutes to myself, so I did some light stretches and deep breathing. I booked a massage for the weekend to ensure I take a pause before rushing into another week. An embroidery project has been prepared and placed in a convenient location, and my journal sits next to my favorite coffee-drinking chair. A book I have been saving is waiting on my nightstand, asking me to ease into the end of my day. I have to make it as easy as possible to unplug and reset, because my brain would otherwise happily keep working and thinking and doing until I can’t work and think and do anymore.
There was a time I thought rest and dissociation were the same thing. Not to brag, but I excel at spending hours in front of the television and playing mindless games on my phone. Those sorts of days have their place, but that is not the kind of rest I mean. And it is not the sort of rest most of us truly need. We all need sleep, of course, but sleep and rest are not the same thing, either. Rest is still, but conscious. Quiet, but aware. Rest is intentional and restorative. Rest is being unproductive, on purpose. In our society where accomplishment is king and activities seem to multiply with each passing year, rest might even be an act of resistance. The tricky thing about rest is that many of us believe it must be earned. Earned by some imaginary and arbitrary measure of accomplishment at best, discomfort at worst. I would like to personally assure you that rest is deserved by every person at any time. Being human is an incredibly complex series of tasks and experiences. I promise, you have earned it. A formal definition of rest reads as follows: to cease from action or motion; refrain from labor or exertion; to be free from anxiety or disturbance. Sheesh. Easier said than done.
“Burnout” is such a buzzword these days, for good reason, and burnout is essentially a lack of meaningful rest. To “burn out” is, by definition, to cause to fail, wear out, or become exhausted, especially from overwork and overuse. People can burn out from doing just about anything without rest, but it is most often used to refer to those who are responsible for the well-being of others. Perhaps this is because people in these positions care deeply and find it nearly impossible to step away from doing it, thinking about it, and preparing to do it. Whether we are practicing medicine, running a company, parenting, teaching, or caring for an elderly relative, we cannot do it well in the long term if we do not unplug.
Eleanor Brownn wisely wrote, “When you take time to replenish your spirit, it allows you to serve others from the overflow. You cannot serve from an empty vessel.” You have almost certainly heard someone say, “You can’t pour from an empty cup.” I love Eleanor’s words best, but either way, it is absolutely true.
And now, friends, I am going to unplug. I hope you will remember to rest.
