Rest is not a reward for the work… it’s part of the work
These last two days, I have been tired. Nope. That word doesn’t work. Exhausted? Weariness down to my bones? That’s getting closer. Every step felt like I was trudging through mud. Every act required intention just to complete. There was so much to do: housework, errands, and a deep desire to make meaningful progress on Light and Love.
Friday morning, I woke up at 3 AM. One of those mornings where you just know sleep isn’t coming back. I was left with a choice: lie in bed for the next two hours, watch something meaningless to pass the time, or get something done. The only obvious answer, for me, was to get something done.
So I got up. Built a lean canvas. Completed a Forest Therapy assignment. By the end of the night, I was exhausted and looking forward to a good night’s sleep. But that’s not what happened.
I woke again at midnight. “No. This is not happening,” I told myself. I forced myself back to sleep. Woke up again at 2 AM. That was it. No going back. So again, I went to work on Light and Love. I poured everything I had into it: my time, my energy, my heart, and my soul. The rest of the day rolled out like a list…errands, housework, dinner. By evening, I was exhausted in a way I’d never felt before. Like the light inside me was flickering low.
I complained. I resisted. I pushed.
But then something inside whispered: take your medicine.
Not pills. Not caffeine. Not distractions.
Awareness. Curiosity. Transformation.
Instead of fighting the exhaustion or trying to numb it, I chose to sit with it. To let the tiredness wash over me without labeling it as bad or wrong. I let myself feel it. Fully. In every part of my body.
No fixing. No avoiding. Just being.
What if this thing I kept calling exhaustion…wasn’t? What if I stopped trying to name it? It didn’t make the feeling go away. But something else happened: The tightness loosened. The contraction expanded. Fighting the tiredness required effort. Allowing it took none.
And that’s when it changed. This thing I was feeling wasn’t a problem. It was a gift. I was tired because I loved wildly, cared deeply, and worked with devotion. This weary ache wasn’t failure; It was evidence. It was the smoke after the fire of meaningful effort. It was a messenger.
And the message it carried?
Lay down your tools. You’ve done enough, for now.
Rest is not a reward for the work… it’s part of the work.
What if your weariness isn’t something to fix, but something asking to be witnessed?
