Three Days of Rest

I didn't know how much I needed rest until I allowed it. Three days - simple, quiet, unstructured. I didn't fil them with tasks or plans. I left my body lead, my mind drift, and my spirit soften into stillness.

At first, there was restlessness. My thoughts wanted to run - toward work, responsibilities, worries. But then, slowly, the noise began to settle. Like dust in sunlight, it found its place and stopped floating.

I slept longer. I moved slower. I ate when I felt hungry, not when the clock told me to. I let the house stay quiet, the phone untouched, the world continue without me as it always has been.

Rest isn't laziness. It's a quiet declaration: I am enough, even when I'm not producing. In those three days, I remembered what peace feels like when it's not earned, not conditional, just present.

When the time came to step back into routine, I noticed the difference. My breath felt deeper. My thoughts less muddled, more spacious. My heart - lighter.

Rest did what effort could not. It mended me in silence.