a return to rest
on releasing the weight of rushing and remembering how to receive
there’s a rhythm my soul remembers. one that doesn’t hurry past the early morning sun peeking through the blinds, but one that finds solace in seeing the sun as it mets her in rising. i used to chase the idea of peace, but now i simply rest in it.
the rhythm is soft, unhurried, sacred. it doesn’t demand to-do lists or urgency. it greets the morning with reverence, not hurry. lately, i’ve been waking slower, allowing the early light to trace its way across my skin as if the sun is reminding me, “you’re already enough.” no striving. no proving. just being.
in my youth, i chased the idea of peace like it was a prize—something to earn at the end of long days, packed schedules, and external achievements. i thought peace would come once everything was done, when completion came into reality. however, i’ve come to intimately know peace as a posture, as presence, as a sanctuary within. when i finally laid down the weights of urgency and ego, i heard it again—the rhythm. it sounded like silence. like breath. like home.
this rest isn’t laziness. it’s remembrance. a return to the wisdom my soul never forgot: i was never created to hustle through each day nor for what already belongs to me. i wasn’t meant to strive my way into worthiness. i was made to rise with the sun, not race it. in this sacred return, i meet myself again—whole, unbothered, and wrapped in the anointing of ease.
the desire to rush through life can be soul-gripping. there’s this quiet panic that creeps in: what if i’m not doing enough? what if there’s not enough time? thoughts arrive like unwelcome noise—nagging reminders of all the ways we think we’re falling short. even our longing to be further ahead can turn into frustration. for a while, urgency defined me. it lived in the way i moved through my days—in how i spoke, how i wrote, how i didn’t stretch in the morning. how i rushed connection. how i made decisions. while those choices carried consequences, they also became teachers—initiators of wisdom, if i was willing to listen.
rest does not need to be earned. rest is present in our soul’s rhythm. we must only return to it. rhythm is sacred. it’s intuitive. it’s deeply felt. life flows from presence, from intention, from the slow beauty of listening to the soul instead of performing for the clock. these days, what matters most is not what i accomplish in twelve hours, but how those hours feel to my heart. the more you rest, the more you open yourself to receive. this is how divine downloads arrive — wisdom that whispers and creativity that stirs. rest isn’t just a pause. it’s a portal. it expands you, making room for sacred ideas, for healing, for softness. when you create space in your body and spirit, life becomes a living ceremony. you begin to notice the subtle moments. the holy ones. and in those moments, remember: life is a divine inheritance to receive, not a race to the finish line.
i’m in my ‘abiding in deeper rest’ era — to God, to myself, to the rhythm that holds me through each cycle. i am no longer sprinting like my ancestors who had no choice but to survive the circumstances of their life. i’m letting my life unfold from a place of wholeness and ease. i am not behind. i am becoming — and i will rest my way there.
