Reflections from the Hammock

The Power of Slowing Down

As another busy year drew to a close, I intentionally under-planned the holiday season to allow myself to truly rest. (As I do each year, I also carved out time to step away from communications, social media, and the internet—a gift of space and stillness to myself.)

Over the years, I’ve achieved a lot and navigated my fair share of trials, as many of us have. Much of my life has been a dance of making things happen or addressing challenges—mine or someone else’s. Many of these challenges have been deeply connected to my wellness. A familiar rhythm in this dance is overestimating my capacity and juggling too many balls at once. Perhaps it’s a kind of addiction to tending and achieving.

I’ve come to see that this old, familiar way of being depletes me. It diminishes my ability to be present and to deeply listen—both to myself and to life. For me, rest has become an absolute foundation for wellness, for imagination, and for being. Rest is where we replenish. Rest is where we restore. Rest keeps us vital. Rest is where we have space to dream.

Rest is not a luxury; it is a necessity. When we’re not rested, our ability to act with care, grace, and integrity diminishes. Rest allows us to hear the voice of our inner knowing, to connect with intuition, and to cultivate an inner compass. It’s through rest that we align with ourselves and with life. Rest is our birthright.

Like nature, we are cyclical beings. We are nature. Being is about living in tune with cycles—macro and micro: the seasons, sleep and wake, hunger and digestion, growth and decay. It’s about moving with the ebb and flow of life: birth and death, grief and joy, summer and winter, fruit and fallow, light and dark. Life is a constant dance with change.

This Christmas, I gifted myself a deck of cards from the Nap Ministry—a gentle invitation to explore rest in new ways. Each card offers a contemplation or practice relating to rest. One card I’ve been sitting with simply states, “I will sit down to daydream.” Daydreaming creates a moment to tap into possibility, hope, and imagination—a quiet rebellion against the constant pull of productivity. Another card reads, “I am enough now.” Deprogramming from grind culture begins in the quiet, powerful truth of our inherent self-worth.

One that struck a particularly deep chord for me says, “I will unravel from urgency.” It reminds me that I deserve not to be rushed, that I am worthy of a slow, connected, and rested life. These words invite me to release the grip of urgency—a habit so deeply woven into modern life—and to instead honour the sacredness of slowness.

These simple practices feel profound. They remind me that rest isn’t just about recharging—it’s about creating space for dreams, insights, and the whispers of life to find us. It’s a form of tending—of ourselves, our potential, and our connection with the rhythms of being.

What might it look like for you to gift yourself the time and space to truly rest?