ANEW: Deep Rest

Because even when you’re doing what you love, your body keeps score.

Photo by Yohann Lc on Unsplash

After thirty-four years of working in schools, deep rest became my soul’s mantra.

How did I know it was my soul and not just my body crying out for it? Because I wanted to go back to work immediately. And I did. Because that’s what I do.

Work is embedded in many of us—it’s in the rhythm of our families, our identities, our DNA. Scientists now say trauma can be inherited, encoded in our cells and passed down like a family heirloom. Maybe that’s why this moment in history feels so heavy—like we’re playing out some ancient drama, carrying burdens we can’t quite name.

Everyday life now feels tinged with urgency, grief, and overwhelm. We’re in flight or fight or freeze without even realizing it. Some losses sneak up on us—like when a loved one leaves suddenly, or worse, stays close in body but distant in spirit. You still feel the sting of their absence, even if they’re just in the next room. That kind of invisible loss? It hollows you.

And that’s why, for some of us, traditional talk therapy only goes so far. Because the trauma sits deeper. It’s not just in our minds. It’s in our bones. It’s in our breath. It’s in our soul memory.

How do I know this for sure? I don’t. Not in a lab-coat, peer-reviewed kind of way. But I know what my body tells me. I know some hurts linger far longer than others. And I know that when something truly releases—really lets go—it doesn’t happen in the head. It happens in the body. Sometimes in a single breath. A session. A dream. A song. A silence.

Over those thirty-four years, I felt called—compelled—to give and serve and teach. You might call it vocation. Or maybe obsession. But the tug was real. I’d show up to substitute teach for a day, and before lunch someone would be chasing me down the hallway, asking me to take a full-time position. I always said no, at first. And then I’d go back. And someone else would ask again. Over and over. Until one day, I just stayed.

I craved the structure of teaching. The daily ritual. The door closing. The sense of presence. And yes, I was a professional actor, so I knew how to perform. But the real ones—the great teachers—they prepare. I started preparing. And around year four or five, I started getting good. Malcolm Gladwell and the 10,000-hour crew weren’t lying.

So, why rest now?

Because even when you’re doing what you love, your body keeps score. Your soul does, too. Like a browser filled with tabs you forgot were open. The system slows down. And if you don’t clear the cache, it crashes.

That’s what rest is: clearing the cache. Making space for breath, for memory, for healing. Not just sleeping in. Not just a weekend off. I’m talking deep, soul-level, teenager-in-summer, cave-dark sleep. I’m talking about the kind of rest where your body says, Thank you. The kind of rest that surprises you with how much you needed it.

I’ve been crawling back into that kind of sleep lately. And let me tell you—it’s sacred. Even with the loud-nose-blowing neighbor next door, I can drift back into dreams. The body knows when it’s safe enough to let go. And mine has been whispering: Now. Rest now.

Of course, this kind of rest isn’t always possible with a partner, or children, or bills to pay. I know that. But it’s not just about sleeping. It’s about choosing not to chase for a little while. Choosing to be still. Choosing to ask, What do I need to let go of to feel whole again?

Lately, I’ve been working with Dr. Lynnea Brumbaugh, a frequency worker and recently retired professor from Washington University in Saint Louis. She’s spent her life studying how trauma moves through bodies. I’m new to this work, but I know this: something in me is shifting. Even as I tell her I want to go back to work—craving the next big thing, the Ben-Franklin-bundles-of-zeroes kind of paycheck—I’m also hearing a quieter voice inside.

It says, You don’t need to chase. Just rest. Let the next thing come to you. And it is nearly here!

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but maybe it’s you:
If you’re feeling tired in a way that sleep doesn’t fix…
If you’re carrying things that aren’t just yours…
If the world feels too loud, too fast, too broken…

Take the rest.
Not just a nap.
Take the deep rest your soul is asking for.

You are allowed.
And you are not alone.

Curated Listening:

When I think of deep rest and the dreamscape, being between two worlds as it were, my mind almost always circles back to the Moody Blues and their biggest hit, “Nights in White Satin.” When the song first came out in the UK and the United States, it was a decided flop. A few years later, it defined an era. Listen to “Nights in White Satin” HERE.