The Art of Resting

"Rest and be thankful." - William Wordsworth

Rest. It's an elusive concept that seems incredibly desirous in theory, but is rarely attainable in practice.  As a college student, it seems that I am constantly striving for the next weekend, the next break, the end of the semester, when I might possibly attain a brief reprieve from the rat race of university life.  However, as soon as I reach the goal, I am worrying about what work the new week brings: the papers I still have to write, the laundry I have to find time to do, the friends I want to spend time with, the success that I must achieve in all of these areas.  It sometimes feels like a never-ending cycle of working toward but never being fully satisfied with the results.  I am in constant motion: mentally, emotionally, and physically.  Where is the rest and satisfaction that my poor overwhelmed heart so deeply desires???

After much consideration - consideration meaning five semesters worth of exhaustion, emotional break downs, and a self-esteem roller coaster ride  fueled by whatever grades and friends I did (or didn't) have - I decided to endeavor to practice the art of resting.  This is not an easy undertaking. When constantly bombarded by a culture telling you that success only comes through beauty, intelligence, a Masters, PhD, life-consuming career, and maybe a trophy-family stuck somewhere in there between the PhD and career, you begin to believe the mantras like, "You can sleep when you're dead." We college students are often so guilty of buying into these lies in hopes of attaining  our dream of the perfect future - during which there will clearly be ample time for rest, thank you! Sure. - that we drive ourselves right into the ground.

So, in an attempt to truly learn what Rest means, I am taking a break every Sunday.  I know that this concept may not seem so novel, what with the whole idea of the Sabbath being around since the creation of the world and whatnot, but it is a much more difficult discipline than I expected. My desire to over achieve, get ahead, and fill my time is not overcome by simply telling myself, "Don't worry, this is your day off. Chill." As a matter of fact, initially, the break set those impulses into overdrive. But through consistent practice in letting tomorrow worry about itself, the enjoyment of fellowship, and a delight in simply taking a walk or reading a book on a Sunday afternoon (things that I rarely allow myself the opportunity to do during my 26.2 mi. weekly sprint), I am able to truly rest. Although force is sometimes necessary, this Day of Rest prepares me for the coming week, no less full of papers, exams, homework, chores, and social obligations. My heart drinks in Rest and is satisfied.