I like to plan my breaks the way I plan my work—intentionally. As I write this, I’m curled up on my couch in pajamas, imagining myself a few days from now, lying on a beach in Hawaii. It’s a little future-casting to remind myself that rest doesn’t just happen—it takes thought, preparation, and, sometimes, a plane ticket.
I don’t actually know what I’ll be doing every day of the vacation—that’s not the type of intentional I’m writing about. Intentional rest isn’t about scheduling every minute; it’s about creating space to recharge in ways that truly restore you.
I am sure you have, at some point—whether during a weekend or a big trip—wanted to relax and lay prone on the bed or couch, so focused on physical rest that you didn’t consider there are other ways to rest. Monday morning rolls around, and you still feel oddly tired, maybe uninspired, and, even worse, regretting that you didn’t leave time for your hobby—or whatever else recharges you.
It can go the other way, too. After the holidays, many of us have drained our social battery. And it can be rough to feel socially exhausted, only to return to a busy workspace with more people.
Over the years, I’ve written about rest for clients but have never taken the time to do it for myself—or more accurately, for you.
When we booked this flight to Hawaii, we knew two things. First, we were drained. Last winter had left us feeling wrung out—a common side effect of living in the northern hemisphere. You can only take so many short, dark days before you begin to gasp for sunshine.
Second, we didn’t want this to just be a break from routine. Pausing for rest and reflection matters. And not just the laying-down kind of rest. And not just the stare-at-a-screen kind.
Dr. Saundra Dalton-Smith, in her book Sacred Rest, introduced the idea that there are seven types of rest. It made sense right away. It explained why some weekends, hiking through the woods or taking photos feels more restorative than simply collapsing on the couch. Rest doesn’t always look like stillness—it can be movement, or solitude, or even creating something just for yourself.
(7 Types of Rest are listed after this essay)
Learning this helped me listen better—to my body, to my moods, to what kind of rest I actually need. Because pushing myself has become a habit. I’ll ignore signals to slow down until my body forces me to stop.
Somewhere along the way, we started treating rest like a reward instead of a necessity. January tells us to push harder—set goals, map out plans, and pull out crystal balls to predict the next 12 months.
But what if we looked to nature instead?
Nature is pausing. Trees drop their leaves—not as an ending, but as preparation for growth. Roots stretch deeper into the earth, unseen but steady. Plants rest quietly, conserving energy for what comes next.
What if we treated this season the same way—as an opportunity to gather strength, ideas, and focus? Thinking is doing. Journaling, meditating, walking, and wondering are doing.
There are goals that seem simple—writing more, reading more, being outside, or spending time with family. Nothing too deep. But here’s the thing—it is that deep.
Take running, for example—a favourite New Year’s resolution. And more specifically, running a marathon. It’s seen by many as the pinnacle of “being a runner,” and countless people sign up just to check it off a bucket list.
But why? Is running a marathon really about running—or is it about something more?
My friend Andrea Rice, who leads run clinics, has had multiple people tell her that committing to a race distance was the first time they stuck with something. They realised how often they’d quit on their own goals—and running became a way to prove they could follow through.
Andrea and her co-leader Austin Watt are hosting an intention-setting workshop for runners for this very reason. Because so many of us set goals without asking ourselves why they matter. And knowing why matters.
When you’re clear on the deeper intention, it leaves room for things to shift. Injuries happen. Life happens. Plans change. But intention can stay.
So yes, I am (hopefully) lying on the beach as you read this. But I’m also spending this time reflecting—on what I’m doing with my writing, my photography, even the idea of grants and possibly going back to school.
I’m not just taking in physical rest but emotional and spiritual rest, too. There’s something about this kind of pause that feels necessary. Not as a luxury, but as preparation.
Like roots stretching deeper, unseen but steady.
The Seven Types of Rest (And What Happens When You Don’t Get Them)
Not all rest is created equal. Dr. Saundra Dalton-Smith outlines seven types of rest we need to feel fully restored. If you’ve ever felt tired after sleeping or drained after a quiet weekend, you might not have given yourself the right kind of rest. Here’s what happens when you skip each type—and how to refill the tank.
Physical Rest
What it is: Recharging your body through sleep, naps, or gentle movement like yoga or stretching.
Without it: Your body aches, muscles stay tense, and you feel wiped out even after sleeping.
Support yourself: Prioritize sleep routines, stretch throughout the day, and take breaks to move gently.
Mental Rest
What it is: Giving your mind space to slow down and stop racing.
Without it: You feel foggy, distracted, or forgetful, like your brain is stuck in overdrive.
Support yourself: Step away from screens, make lists to clear your head, or try breathing exercises to quiet racing thoughts.
Emotional Rest
What it is: Letting go of the need to perform, please, or suppress feelings.
Without it: You feel irritable, overwhelmed, or emotionally flat, like you’re one small setback away from crying in the grocery store.
Support yourself: Talk to someone you trust, set boundaries, or give yourself permission to cry (or laugh!) without judgment.
Social Rest
What it is: Taking breaks from people who drain your energy and leaning into relationships that restore you.
Without it: You feel lonely in a crowded room—or resentful, even around people you love.
Support yourself: Spend time alone, say no to plans, or reach out to friends who make you feel lighter.
Sensory Rest
What it is: Reducing overstimulation from noise, screens, and constant input.
Without it: You feel edgy and irritable, like everything—light, sound, notifications—is too much.
Support yourself: Unplug for an hour, dim the lights, go for a walk without your phone, or sit in silence.
Creative Rest
What it is: Restoring inspiration by stepping away from output and letting curiosity lead.
Without it: You feel stuck, uninspired, or like you’re forcing ideas that just won’t come.
Support yourself: Wander through a museum, doodle without purpose, or spend time in nature to let your mind roam.
Spiritual Rest
What it is: Reconnecting to something bigger than yourself to find purpose and meaning.
Without it: You feel untethered, directionless, or like you’re going through the motions without any sense of fulfillment.
Support yourself: Meditate, pray, or spend time in reflection, gratitude, or service to others.
Hey, you made it to the end! I have a little secret for you.
This past week, I had a call with Davey Gravy—one of the most committed creatives I know—and it left me feeling so inspired. The call started out practical, covering newsletters (I write a lot of them for clients), platforms, and goals. But soon, we were talking about creativity, big ideas, and, finally, my long-standing confession:
I’ve been saying I want to create longer-form videos for years, but somehow, I can’t seem to make it happen.
Walking away from that chat, I started reflecting on why I keep stalling. Why I start but never finish. Why I take footage and then realize I forgot to capture something essential. And honestly? The answer turned out to be simpler than I expected.
First, I hate talking at the camera. Don’t mix this up with me not liking to talk—I do. I even record voiceovers for clients. But sitting and staring into a camera lens? It just doesn’t feel natural to me. Period.
Second, my camera is for photography. It’s how I see the world when I’m out and about, and mixing video into that process feels messy. When I try to use my phone instead, I get overwhelmed scrolling through endless footage. It all starts to feel like clutter.
So here’s what I did.
I tried shooting a a video that leaned on b-roll—no talking head—and recorded a voiceover instead. And honestly? It worked. It was smooth, fast, and didn’t feel forced. I recorded the voiceover in minutes instead of sitting there trying to “perform.”
Then, I let myself get a tool. I dipped into my gear fund and bought a Pocket Osmo 3 to bring with me to Hawaii. My hope is that by having a dedicated video device, I’ll stop feeling annoyed about using my main camera for video. Plus, I can keep everything on an SD card instead of getting lost in my phone. I already edit on my laptop, so this should make the workflow way easier.
You might be wondering why I care about this so much.
The truth is, I really like video—but small things were making the process harder than it needed to be. So instead of fighting what doesn’t work for me, I’m leaning into what does. I love shooting b-roll, and I love voiceovers. So why not just start there?
The coming year feels like a shifting year. Corey has applied to school. I’m thinking about a master’s program. It feels like a year I’ll want to look back on—to capture what’s happening, even if it’s just for me.
And looking back at the last couple of years? I wish I’d done more of that. Not just capturing the moments, but also capturing why they mattered.
I really loved this piece, especially the section on rest. I think thats something most of us need to focus on this time of year.