In previous newsletters I’ve been alluding to taking a period of rest during this slower season of the year, with the intention of returning after this next month or two. I realized I wanted to take a moment to actually expand on what that word means to me now, because it has changed significantly over the years. Maybe it's changed for you too.
For a long time, rest felt like it was supposed to look a certain way. It can look like indulgence, doomscrolling, binge-watching, etc. For me, it used to mean vacations, excessive sleeping, or intense exercise. But no matter how much I did those things, I never really felt rested.
What I had been searching for instead is a kind of rest where my brain doesn’t have to work so hard. I will always have to process some information, but I try to give it blocks of time where it doesn’t have to solve anything.
The turning point came after a significant health event. When I was in the hospital, I was bedridden. I had a lot of time to think — or more accurately, a lot of time to simply be. When I left the hospital, I realized I missed the feeling of being forced to do nothing. The liminal space where time stretches and expectations dissolve. That experience changed my art practice and my life.
Resting now usually means leaning into experiences with very little information to process, but focusing on presence in the moment. Going for a walk in silence. Being fully present with what’s around me — the temperature of the air, the sound of my footsteps, the way light shifts through trees. Letting myself focus on sensory experience without needing to do anything with it afterward.
In the studio, this shows up as intuitive painting. I slap color down without a plan and without asking what it’s for. No end goal, no outcome to optimize. Just movement, color, and response.
On rainy days, it looks like laying down and listening to the sounds outside. Just listening. The phone battery doesn’t need to be charged, I have nowhere to be, and I can just exist.
It’s like putting my brain on “do not disturb.” Excess notifications don’t come through. Only the important things are allowed to surface. These periods of rest aren’t continuous, and they aren’t perfect. I’m not resting all the time (I’m not sure anyone could!) but I am prioritizing intentional blocks of rest in place of constant work and teaching. Rest that supports me physically and mentally, instead of just filling time.
Rest, for me, isn’t about checking out. It’s about checking back into my body, my senses, and the quieter parts of myself that get drowned out when everything is loud.
As always, thank you for being here and letting me share these thoughts as they unfold. Stay tuned for more information soon about my upcoming residency at the library — I’m really excited to share what I’ve been working toward.
Yours Truly,
Makara