Day 142: Permission to Rest

Presence includes allowing stillness and non-doing

“In order to understand the world, one has to turn away from it on occasion.”
— Albert Camus

In My Neighbor Totoro, Hayao Miyazaki doesn’t rely on fast-paced drama to pull us in. There are no villains, no battles to win. Instead, the film lingers. It shows two young girls moving to the countryside, watching dust settle in sunlight, waiting for a bus in the rain, resting in the arms of a giant forest spirit. What makes the film extraordinary is not what happens, but the quiet in-between spaces — the permission it gives to simply be. For many, this kind of slow presence feels indulgent, even wasteful. But in truth, it is one of the deepest forms of connection we can allow ourselves.

In a world addicted to productivity and speed, resting is a rebellious act. It flies in the face of every internalized whisper that says “You’re only worthy if you’re doing something.” We often mistake motion for meaning and activity for achievement. But presence — true, embodied presence — does not always require action. Sometimes it means pausing long enough to let your nervous system unwind. Sometimes it means doing nothing and noticing what arises.

Neuroscience supports this idea. The default mode network (DMN), a network of interacting brain regions, becomes active when we are at rest and not focused on the outside world. Contrary to the notion of “idle mind, idle time,” the DMN is involved in deep introspection, memory consolidation, self-awareness, and future planning. Far from being useless, rest activates some of the most meaningful parts of the human mind. Stillness is not stagnation — it is integration.

Rest also plays a critical role in regulating the autonomic nervous system. According to Dr. Stephen Porges and his Polyvagal Theory, states of calm and safety are necessary for neuroception — the body’s subconscious ability to detect whether we are safe or in danger. When we allow ourselves to be still, we reinforce internal safety cues that enable social connection, creativity, and healing. Without this, we remain in chronic states of fight-or-flight, incapable of presence because our body believes it must always be ready for a threat.

Yet despite this evidence, many of us resist rest. We equate non-doing with laziness. Or we try to rest, but our minds remain restless. This isn’t a failure of willpower — it’s the byproduct of cultural conditioning that praises burnout and glorifies busyness. The solution isn’t to force stillness, but to slowly reintroduce ourselves to it.

So how do we begin?

Take a breath.
Notice where your body holds tension.
Let it soften.
You don’t need to earn this moment.

Imagine a version of you
that is not always doing
but simply being.

You do not need to explain your rest.
You only need to return to it.

You might try this today:

🕊 Redefine what rest is for you.
🕊 Schedule time for stillness.
🕊 Move slowly, on purpose.
🕊 Say “enough” before the world demands more.
🕊 Ask yourself — Was I present, or just productive?

Now breathe again.
The world will wait.
You don’t have to rush back.

Let today be the day you stop apologizing for stillness and start honoring it as sacred. If this resonated, share it quietly with someone who needs permission to pause.