You Don’t Have to Earn Your Rest
Wow, summer has sailed by!
Last month, Mike and I enjoyed a 10-day sail up the coast of Maine and back on our sailboat. Minutes after leaving our homeport in Beverly, Mike said, “I can’t remember the last time we haven’t been busy.”
It felt like we had been two ships passing in the night—busy with good things, but still going and going and going.
There is something so lovely about going to sleep and waking up to the rhythm of the sun, being lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the ocean, and letting the days unfold without a schedule.
My favorite day of the trip wasn't walking around one of the quintessential Maine towns, admiring the summer flowers in everyone's yards, enjoying lobster dinners, or stopping for ice cream.
It was the day we were stuck on the boat.
We were anchored for about 36 hours, most of it during some pretty foul weather. There were howling winds and enough rocking that I did the unthinkable—I took seasickness medication!
Once the queasiness passed, my day was filled with just being.
I read. I slept. I sat outside between squalls to get some fresh air. We had cozy macaroni and cheese with broccoli for lunch. I took several naps, including one at 10 in the morning. Mike and I talked and chatted and had deeper conversations. We exhaled.
There was nowhere to be.
Nothing to do.
I didn't clean or tidy the boat. Mike didn't try to troubleshoot why the oven had stopped working.
We simply rested.
And at the end of that day, we were gifted a beautiful double rainbow.
It made me think about how often we feel like we have to earn our rest.
We can only stop after the laundry is done, the dishes are put away, the extra shift has been worked, the deck has been power-washed, the garden has been weeded.
Does this sound familiar?
Someone recently texted me, “Enjoy the beach. You deserve it.”
And I found myself thinking: I don't believe we have to deserve it. I believe rest is our birthright.
We are here to enjoy our lives. We are here to love and be loved. And I believe we do those things best when we can come from a place of ease and peace.
I’m writing this newsletter from my beach chair at Wingaersheek Beach—my happy place. This is a place where I can consistently tune into my soul. I feel connected here. Grounded. Quiet enough to listen.
I give myself a lot of opportunities to connect and ground through meditation, journaling, and yoga. But there is something about quiet moments in nature that nourishes my soul most deeply.
When I can quiet down, I can sense the space inside me and the space inside all things.
And I can really listen.
What has my body been trying to tell me?
What is it that I have been needing?
As always, take good care,
Jessica