Resting, not waiting
The approach to restorative practice
Two hours into a guided yin practice, my teacher purred something along the lines of “See if you can truly rest, without just waiting for the next pose, movement or thing.”
It’s been with me for weeks…
Yin yoga is a practice of patience, but not the type of patience that has you waiting, in a purgatory of anticipation, for whatever comes next. I find it an act of patience with oneself. The yin approach, if we yield to it, is spaciousness embodied.
After resisting the yin approach for many years, within yoga and without, this attiude has steadily become integral in my life. It’s unravelled a lot of my conditioning on idolised productivity and egocentric movement (ie movement for the sake of performance and improvement). The yin approach practice became the reckoning I didn’t know I needed.
Our brains claw and grasp at anything—a thought, a plan, a sense. Yin, in all its slowness, challenges this head-on. It’s a practice of sitting with oneself, separate from space and time, yet requires a tendril of discipline to be in that place. To sit in the eye of the storm, the centre of the spiral. For many of us, if we aren’t a participant in our rest practices, then they don’t even exist. We must take the challenge of traversing the rocky landscapes of our thoughts and propensities, to witness the view around us.
Leaning into such a practice, which may appear simple in physicality, tugs at the trappings of our overstimulated society. For myself, when I am submerged in a full period of my life, I find it increasingly undesirable to pause and do nothing. It’s like I’m on a Ferris wheel. The wheel spins faster, and it becomes easier to stay in constant momentum rather than attempt to get off.
Resting becomes cumbersome in these times. Yet it remains the most vital practice we can do for ourselves. We must anchor ourselves when caught in rough seas.
The past few months have had my leisurely ride on the Ferris wheel turn into a rollercoaster. I opened a community yoga studio, the project of my dreams after years of showing up in service and vulnerability. I tripled my weekly class load and waded through the murky waters of lease agreements, business models and advertising. As a one-woman show, there’s a lot for me to do. While I welcome this challenge and happily lean into this exciting time in my life, I approached this opportunity with the expectation that it would be tiring (but wouldn’t be forever).
Giving a stark contrast to what my life has looked like this year, it’s no surprise my system needed a recalibration. A simple law of physics, you can’t add to a satisfyingly full vessel without having to take something out. Or, we make the vessel bigger. Enter, rest.
Context: I’ve walked this path before. Teaching and holding space of this scope isn’t foreign to me. Yet, I’ve been wary of doing it again considering how exhausting I found it. But with a few years of insight under my belt, and a few kernels of wisdom gained, I understand that my life as it was before the studio must change to make room.
I know this sounds obvious but as someone who thrives on variety and has passions sprinkled far and wide, this self-awareness is crucial for my health and longevity.
Rest, true, ‘unproductive’ rest, takes the middle podium in the hierarchy of priorities.
(My) Evolution of Rest
Taking it back to my immersive Yin practice, where rest over waiting became the theme of my practice, I stepped off the mat contemplating how the act and art of rest isn’t simple. Not for the likes of me, anyway. It’s nuanced, and really… it’s a skill.
Despite what my teenage years taught me (via self-inflicted rules and the need to achieve), rest isn’t to be earned or bought. It’s to be enjoyed, and savoured, as readily as humans need water or food.
The art of resting, for me, first came from necessity. If I didn’t rest, I’d be plain horrid. My relationships became strained, life became grey, and I felt like even my passions were turning into chores. I’d go to bed feeling unfulfilled and cheated. When I became more disciplined with resting, an oxymoron I know, I felt like life had colour again. My hobbies enlivened me, and my relationships and communication prospered.
In hindsight, I guess rest was (at first) productive. Resting produced a better me and a more enjoyable life. It was transactional. The result was the driver, rather than the practice itself.
But by practising deeper, and making my rest practices more ritualistic, I noticed that waiting was tinting my moments of restoration. I’d choose 30-minute yoga practices (even when time was on my side for a longer practice), and watched myself reducing it to how many minutes I thought was left. I’d have a bath and be anticipating what chores I was to do once I got out. I’d see friends, and be internally thinking about what I needed to get at the grocery store on the way home.
I was waiting, rather than resting.
With time, and lots of self-inquiry, I came to shift my relationship to resting. Not as something that was going to give me a return on investment, or something to check off a mental self-care list, but something that was becoming innate. Like having food in your belly, feeling loved, and having a safe place to call home. Rest became essential.
What is resting?
While this piece is about your approach to rest, rather than the practice itself, I found it helpful to reflect on my restorative choices in real time to understand if they were actually restful, or just ‘productive’ leisure time.
This meant my rest practices needed to be fluid. I don’t feel the same every day, so my practices don’t either!
For example, after a mentally draining day conquering admin on the computer, the last thing I want to do is another near-sighted activity such as reading (as enjoyable as it is) which would only further my eye strain and keep me in a seated posture. Instead, I’d typically do a self-led yin practice, a guided audio meditation, or take a nap.
Another point of difference is whether I need mental, emotional, or physical rest. Tapping out of reality for an episode of my favourite show can be just as restful as an hour-long bath. Context is important.
Lo and behold, resting can be anything. To me, it’s a practice that leaves me feeling more relaxed, centred, and supported, and doesn’t take more than it gives. Though simple in idea, it can be complex in its execution.
My own evolution of rest, and my approach and relationship to it, has grown to be as necessary as brushing my teeth every day. But it can also be quickly forgotten if aren’t active participants in its practice and prioritisation.
To help you dive into your rest approach and practices, here are a few prompts for some self-inquiry:
What in your life do you consider restful?
How do you feel after you rest?
Does your rest typically look the same?
And, the next time you take your respite…
Do you wait, or rest?
Thank you for being here,
Abigail x