I think about rest a lot.

Gave a workshop about it. Two summers ago.

Wrote an article about it around the same time.

Haven’t rested much since.

I posted this photo on Instagram with something in the caption about the hammock having my name on it. Last month.

Haven’t seen the hammock since, let alone actually rested in it.

Started to write this post two weeks ago, but making it even marginally coherent felt impossible.

When your brain is too frazzled to even do online jigsaw puzzles and watch bunny videos, it’s time to rest.

When the nice lady at the circulation desk says there’s an overdue book on your account, which you haven’t even opened yet, and that it’s called Overwhelmed, it’s time to rest.

When you’re on the phone with two colleagues with the intention of helping one another craft plans for your collective business adventures and the way all three of you talk about feeling tired and scattered and frazzled sounds like you’re sharing a brain – and a life – it’s time to rest.

And thinking about rest, my friend, is anything but restful.

beach pathI need rest. I have a hunch you do, too.

I could give you boatloads of research about how we’re all stressed-out and sleep-deprived. I could tell you all the ways that not getting enough rest messes with our lives and our world. I could give you a bulleted list with a catchy title and the top x-number of ways to get more rest.

And I will. Soon. (I’ll try not to be too cheesy with the list and the catchy title.)

But first, I’m resting.

Won’t you join me?


Let’s Rest (and Play) Together

One of my top go-to places to rest and play is Tyler Arboretum, just outside of Philadelphia, PA.

I’ll be leading three restful and playful Mindful Meanders at Tyler this fall. Join me for one, two or all three.

tulip tree house


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