Rest as a Sacred Act

Night stretches on this time of year. At Pudding Creek, the sky sparkles, and mornings are sharp with ice. For most of the day, Tiger the cat dozes in front of the hearth, and at night he sleeps curled up next to my hip.

I have been having trouble sleeping and find myself longing for rest. Instead, my body revs up, and my mind loops through the shadowy hours. Insomnia feels like a stubborn weed, an invasive plant growing quietly in the night. Sometimes I imagine others (you?) tossing and turning their way through the dark hours, and I am comforted. I spoke to a sleep expert, and she said that I must allow myself to rest, even if I am not sleeping. Rest is a practice.

When I find myself at one of those too-hard yoga classes, I remember that resting my way through the heat and exertion makes a huge difference. Resting through effort is a game changer. 

It is dark this time of year, and our bodies long for rest. I can see this in Tiger's mammal body; why should we think that our bodies are any different?

It is almost the solstice, and night lingers as the earth hangs in the vast expanse of the galaxy. Like the earth and our animal friends, we too need to occasionally pause. 

Rest restores what is needed. It is a conscious choice and a sacred act.