Rest

I like to be on the move. I like to have purpose, to have a goal that I'm working towards. 

Rest isn't easy for me. 

Blame capitalism. Blame brain chemistry. Either way, the reality remains - too much time in open space is hard for me. 

This inclination is problematic for several reasons, the most glaring being that rest is a necessary component to life. We are supposed to rest at some point every day, every week, every month, every year. Just like nature. We're supposed to follow nature's lead. The only reason that we have the harvest every year is because the soil rests in the winter months. The earth can't produce without rest. Neither can I. 

One of my friends once said how thankful she is for the night.  She said that nights are gifts that separate days from one another.  The wisdom in her thought didn't resonate with me at first, but then I imagined life as one long day with no restarts. 

She is right.

We need breaks. We need rest. We need restarts. 

I fight them, but I know I need them. 

Here's the irony of it all - the best things in my life have come after periods of rest. It's a bit of a paradox to be highly productive while being simultaneously highly reflective, in that reflection comes in the silence, but either way, the reality remains.  

My work in the Netherlands was a perfect reminder of all of this reality. We did two murals at two separate locations.  My plane landed and I hit the ground running. I went from the airport to meet one of our partners, then to the paint store, then I don't remember because I fell asleep in the car from not having closed my eyes in 30 something hours. 

Muscle memory took over. Years of muralling around the world has created a default pattern that I don't even question. I know the curriculum. I know the process. I know what to do. Autopilot. 

We celebrated the first mural on Saturday.  We cut ribbons and took photos and invited families. 

And then, a day of rest. 

I roamed Amsterdam on my own for an entire day.  I sat. I walked. I reflected.

I looked at the mistakes we made in the first project. I made a plan for the next project. 

I had time to stop moving. Time to analyze. Time to look at my mistakes and correct them. 

The next mural was better than the first, not in the final product, but in the process.

Progress through rest. 

A rhythm of life that I push against when all it is trying to do is bring me to a better version of myself. 

I won't say that the second mural was perfectly executed. There isn't such a thing  - but I will say that we made better mistakes the second time around. Mistakes that would have been the same as the first ones without the space for reflection.  

I was walking through the building at the location of the second mural when I saw a very literal sign that felt like it was posted just as a reminder to me. 

I will make better mistakes tomorr(ow)

That's the goal. Better mistakes tomorrow.  Better mistakes only happen if you take the time to look at the ones you just made, if you let yourself stop moving long enough to see clearly. 

Rest is a good friend to me.  It's a completely one-sided relationship, but she won't give up. 

Maybe I'll learn. Maybe I'll give in to open space.  Maybe I'll just be better at it tomorrow.