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Needs in Action: A Case for Rest

  • Writer: Joelle Adams
    Joelle Adams
  • Jul 9, 2023
  • 2 min read

Updated: Sep 25, 2023


As we enter the middle of summer, my thoughts turn to rest. The grading is done, summer school nearly over. What now...?


Because I've been a teacher in higher education for most (though not all) of my working life, I live with the rhythms of the academic year: a fresh start in the autumn, a little winter break, a week or two with no teaching in the spring, and then in summer, an opportunity for rest. But how often do we actually make the most of that opportunity?


One of my faculty friends is off to a curriculum institute this summer, another is taking a writing class to support her own teaching. My own thoughts turn to the improvements I can make in my online classes and the way I manage faculty development projects. And of course, for many of us, there is the writing. The book, the article, the blog posts...


It's easy to advise others to rest, easy to see how a break offers space for recovery, reflection, and strikes of inspiration. But it's a little more difficult to take that advice ourselves. A break from teaching seems like a great time to "improve".


But rest is integral to meeting our own needs: creative flow requires periods of activity and periods of stillness. A fallow week or two can revive our energy, help us let go of outworn or unnecessary beliefs, or see a teaching problem from a new perspective.


When our identities are tied to our roles as teachers or researchers, rest can feel like a betrayal of our responsibilities, of our students or projects, of ourselves even. I know for me, a rest can feel almost...scary.


But once I surrender, once I turn on my out-of-office notifications and stop mindlessly checking my emails, I can start to feel the beauty and power of rest and relaxation. I allow myself to slow down, calming the ego-mind chatter and getting in tune with my body and soul, instead of letting the mind take me in a million directions that lead to dead ends. I can hear the birds sing, feel my heart beat, let my breathe flow.


And when I've rested, when I've attuned back to the rhythms of nature and my own being, with my own needs met, then I can turn to my tasks with a renewed spirit, clear intentions, and creative insight.


This summer, I invite you to meet your need for rest. And be curious about what no longer feels important or urgent and what new creations emerge.




 
 
 

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