It was not the first time that I was out on a Sabbath stroll in the woods only to hear a voice ask excitedly and surprisingly from closeby: “Jules?”
The Universe? Our magnetic forces? Similar weekending habits?
Whatever the cause, last Saturday I serendipitously ran into this dear friend again. It was a double delight to love squint our eyes above our masks and receive what felt like a hug from the universe or a tiny perfect thing, *from a surprisingly good teen romcom if you need a light movie night.
At that moment I knew how much I had already recovered through my sacred day of deep rest. And how burned out I had been just days before.
From the action-packed, snowy weekend right on into the workweek, I also had virtual class or social commitments every single night. Five weeks into this kind of schedule, my routines were frayed, my rhythm was out of sync and my attitude was threadbare.
With every basic need that fell by the wayside—eating breakfast, brushing my teeth, just putting on deodorant—each new ask in service of someone else’s need chaffed like wet cotton on a rainy run.
No was my first reaction to most texts last week, including from that dear friend.My second response was a sigh for the obligation to respond and honor the ask.
This irritability was one of the first symptoms of my deep fatigue that I noticed. That quickly compounded into indulging and compensating. Before I knew it, I was scraping the bottom of my survival skills. Late last week I was making lists of everything as basic as sending an email. I was micromanaging my time down to four more minutes in bed before a meeting started and I had to get up.
I could no longer cope, or deal effectively with something difficult. Life felt like a chore, a grind, a burden. Not the privilege, the gift, the miracle that it is.
In precious minutes on the phone with one of my long-distance best friends—a nonprofit VP and mother of a toddler herself—I rattled on and on about all of my commitments. Calmly and lovingly she listened and empathized: Wow, that is a lot, especially right now. That sounds like “Vintage Jules.”
She was right. This is how I used to live all the time and what I thought was “normal” before I started practicing Sabbath six years ago. Oops!
In the excitement of starting new things in the new year, I quickly became overextended. Then with every personal or national event—a friend’s parent passing away from cancer, the insurrection followed by impeachment trials—I crossed over “vulnerability overload.”
Plus, I forgot about the persistent low-grade stress—of natural disasters from climate change, on top of the pandemic, on top of systemic racism.
With my friends’ insights and my body’s symptoms sounding alarms, I channeled my Nonviolent Communication learnings and asked my spirit for guidance: What was I feeling? What did I truly need?
I was exhausted. I needed rest.
Not longer hours of sleep at night or several naps. But sacred and deep rest.
It was that simple.
And so, I set the intention for last weekend: go back to the basics for observing Sabbath.
No work, no plans, offline. Let my spirit lead and make my body follow. Pause all passing thoughts. Meet my every and immediate need, no questions asked, moment by moment.
Like an instant spiritual chiropractic treatment, my routines immediately reset, my rhythm found its groove and my attitude regained perspective as I realigned to the universe.
I saw all the tiny perfect things the day had to offer.
Like that dear friend sitting on a bench in the park and calling out to me as I strolled by marveling at the giant trees. No need to text back or arrange a call, she was right there before me!
From one more thing to one less thing.
Hence the double delight.
May your spirit savor some deep, sacred rest this week.
Love,
Jules
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