Rest Is Not Something You Have to Earn
There is something I have come to understand through my experiences with military service, trauma, chronic pain, grief, creativity, and the everyday responsibilities of being human.
Rest is not something I have to earn.
I do not have to exhaust myself before I am allowed to stop.
I do not have to accomplish everything on my to-do list before I can sit down.
I do not have to justify taking an afternoon for myself.
I do not have to explain why I need quiet.
And I certainly do not have to prove that I have worked hard enough to deserve a moment of peace.
For much of my life, rest was something that came after everything else.
After the responsibilities.
After the work.
After taking care of what needed to be done.
After pushing through.
After surviving another difficult day.
But I have learned that there is a difference between living a meaningful life and constantly demanding more from myself.
I am no longer interested in treating exhaustion as proof of my worth.
I am interested in listening.
Listening to my body.
Listening to my emotions.
Listening to what feels supportive.
Listening to what I want.
And sometimes, listening means recognizing that I do not want to do another thing.
Listening First. Nothing Is Required.
The Culture of Constant Productivity
We live in a society that celebrates being busy.
People often ask what we accomplished during the day.
What projects we completed.
What goals we achieved.
How many hours we worked.
How much progress we made.
Even conversations about self-care can become focused on productivity.
We are encouraged to sleep better so we can work harder.
Meditate so we can concentrate longer.
Exercise so we can become more efficient.
Take vacations so we can return refreshed and ready to produce more.
But what if rest did not need to make us better at working?
What if it was simply part of being alive?
What if sitting outside and listening to the birds was enough?
What if enjoying a cup of tea without looking at a clock was enough?
What if spending an afternoon reading, listening to music, or watching a favorite television show was enough?
I do not believe every moment of my life needs to serve a larger goal.
I do not need to turn every quiet experience into an opportunity for self-improvement.
Sometimes I want to enjoy my life.
And that is reason enough.
What Military Service Taught Me About Endurance
As a United States Navy veteran, I understand what it means to have responsibilities that cannot simply be postponed.
Military service requires discipline.
It requires showing up.
It requires completing assignments.
It requires working within schedules and expectations that are not always within our control.
During my time in the Navy, I learned a great deal about endurance, responsibility, and perseverance.
But I have also spent years reflecting on what it means to live beyond environments where pushing through is expected.
There is a difference between fulfilling a responsibility and believing that I must constantly prove my strength through exhaustion.
There is a difference between being disciplined and ignoring what my body needs.
There is a difference between choosing to work hard and feeling that I am never allowed to stop.
I can appreciate the strength I developed through my experiences without making endurance the measure of my worth.
I am allowed to live differently now.
I am allowed to choose a slower morning.
I am allowed to take a break.
I am allowed to decide that today does not need to be filled with obligations.
And I do not need permission from anyone else to make those decisions.
Trauma, Stress, and the Need for Rest
Living with post-traumatic stress has influenced the way I understand rest.
There are times when the body remains alert even when there is no immediate danger.
There are times when ordinary interactions feel exhausting.
There are times when stress accumulates.
And there are times when emotional experiences require more energy than people on the outside may recognize.
I have learned that rest does not always mean lying down and falling asleep.
Sometimes rest means reducing stimulation.
Sometimes it means spending time alone.
Sometimes it means choosing not to answer a message.
Sometimes it means stepping away from social media.
Sometimes it means declining an invitation.
Sometimes it means allowing myself to experience a quiet day without adding another responsibility.
I do not need to explain my trauma history to justify those choices.
I do not need to tell someone everything I have experienced before they can respect my need for space.
My body and mind deserve consideration regardless of whether another person understands what I have lived through.
And I have learned that rest can be an important part of how I care for myself.
It does not erase trauma.
It does not automatically resolve stress.
It does not replace professional support when that support is needed.
But it gives me room to respond to my needs without demanding that I continue pushing through everything.
Rest Is Not Always Stillness
One of the things I appreciate about listening to my body is recognizing that rest can take different forms.
Sometimes I want to lie down under a warm blanket.
Sometimes I want to sit quietly.
Sometimes I want to go for a walk.
Sometimes I want to ride my bike at a comfortable pace.
Sometimes I want to practice gentle yoga.
Sometimes I want to spend time outside with my camera.
And sometimes I want to listen to the resonance of a Tibetan singing bowl.
For me, rest is not always the absence of movement.
Sometimes gentle movement offers a welcome change from sitting still.
Sometimes a walk gives me an opportunity to enjoy nature without feeling that I must accomplish anything.
Sometimes riding my bike is simply something I enjoy.
I do not have to turn every form of movement into a workout.
I do not have to measure every experience.
I do not have to compete with what I did yesterday.
There is room for movement that feels enjoyable.
There is room for physical rest.
And there is room for doing absolutely nothing.
The important thing is recognizing that different moments may call for different choices.
Living with Chronic Pain Changes the Conversation
Living with chronic pain has taught me that my body does not respond the same way every day.
There are days when movement feels supportive.
There are days when certain positions are uncomfortable.
There are days when I need to adjust my plans.
And there are days when rest is the most reasonable choice.
I have learned that I do not need to punish myself for those differences.
If my knee hurts, I can adjust my activity.
If my body feels tired, I can choose something gentler.
If a position is uncomfortable, I can change it.
I do not need to force myself to continue simply because I had a particular plan.
Listening to my body does not mean giving up on movement.
It means recognizing that my body deserves attention rather than judgment.
I can enjoy being physically active while also respecting my limitations.
I can challenge myself when I choose.
And I can rest when I choose.
Both are part of caring for myself.
The Difference Between Rest and Avoidance
Sometimes people interpret stepping away from an activity, conversation, or relationship as avoidance.
But not every decision to step away is an attempt to escape something difficult.
Sometimes it is a boundary.
Sometimes it is a thoughtful choice.
Sometimes it reflects a change in priorities.
Sometimes it means recognizing that an experience is no longer supportive.
I can choose not to participate in a conversation that feels disrespectful.
I can decide not to maintain a one-sided relationship.
I can take time away from social media.
I can spend an afternoon alone.
I can decline an invitation.
Those choices do not automatically mean that something is wrong.
They may simply mean that I am deciding how I want to spend my time and energy.
Of course, there are times when it is worth reflecting on whether stepping away is helping us live the lives we want.
But I do not believe every boundary needs to be questioned simply because someone else would make a different choice.
My time belongs to me.
My energy belongs to me.
And my choices do not need to satisfy everyone else's expectations.
Resting Without Guilt
One of the challenges of slowing down is recognizing how deeply productivity can become connected to self-worth.
Sometimes we sit down to rest and immediately begin thinking about everything we could be doing.
The laundry.
The cleaning.
The emails.
The unfinished projects.
The next appointment.
The work waiting for us tomorrow.
It can feel as though rest is something we are stealing from our responsibilities.
But I have learned to question that belief.
Why should I feel guilty for sitting down?
Why should I need an explanation for enjoying an afternoon?
Why should I have to be exhausted before I am allowed to stop?
There will always be something that could be done.
Another article to write.
Another recording to create.
Another project to finish.
Another task to complete.
If I wait until absolutely everything is finished before allowing myself to rest, I may never give myself that opportunity.
I am learning to make room for rest as part of my life rather than something that happens only when there is nothing left to do.
And I am learning that I do not have to feel guilty about enjoying it.
The Role of Sound in My Rest Practice
As a Sound Alchemist, I spend a great deal of time creating and working with sound.
My gongs, Tibetan singing bowls, hand pan, and other instruments are part of my creative life.
I appreciate the resonance of a gong.
I enjoy the sustained tones of Tibetan singing bowls.
I enjoy the melodies and rhythms of the hand pan.
And I appreciate the silence that follows a sound as it gradually fades.
Sometimes I choose to listen to these instruments as part of a quiet moment.
Other times I simply enjoy creating music.
But I do not believe that listening to sound should become another obligation.
I do not need to listen to a gong every day.
I do not need to meditate for a certain number of minutes.
I do not need to use sound to change my emotional state.
And I do not need to turn every listening experience into a healing exercise.
Sometimes I simply enjoy the music.
Sometimes I want silence instead.
Both choices are welcome.
That is why I approach my recordings as invitations rather than prescriptions.
The listener can choose when to listen.
They can adjust the volume.
They can sit, stand, or lie down.
They can keep their eyes open.
They can pause the recording.
They can stop.
They do not have to relax.
They do not have to release anything.
They do not have to achieve a particular outcome.
Listening First means the experience belongs to the listener.
Solitude Can Be Restful
I have come to appreciate my own company.
There is something meaningful about having time that belongs entirely to me.
Time when I am not expected to respond to anyone.
Time when I can decide what I want to do.
Time when I can create music, write poetry, take photographs, or simply enjoy the quiet.
I do not experience every moment of solitude as loneliness.
Sometimes solitude is exactly what I want.
It gives me room to think.
It gives me room to notice.
It gives me room to enjoy the things that matter to me.
And it gives me the freedom to decide how much interaction I want with the world around me.
I can appreciate genuine connection without needing constant company.
I can care about people without being available every moment.
I can enjoy relationships while also valuing my privacy.
There is no contradiction in those choices.
Rest sometimes means allowing myself to enjoy the life I have created without feeling
that I need to fill every quiet space with another person.
Stepping Away from Social Media
One of the ways I have been reclaiming my time is by reconsidering how much attention I give to social media.
For years, I have shared my music, poetry, writing, and advocacy through online platforms.
I have spent time creating posts, scheduling content, and making my work available to others.
And I have learned that I do not need to remain constantly connected to those platforms for my creative work to matter.
My music does not stop existing when I log out.
My poetry does not lose its meaning because I am not checking comments.
My writing does not become less valuable because an algorithm decides not to show it to people.
I can schedule my work and step away.
I can allow people to discover what I create without watching every response.
I can spend my time doing something that brings me enjoyment.
I can choose to be present in my own life.
And I do not need to apologize for making that choice.
Social media is one way I share my work.
It is not the measure of my worth.
Nor does it need to determine how I spend every day.
Creativity Needs Room to Breathe
There are days when I feel inspired to create.
I may write several pages.
Develop an idea for a new article.
Record music.
Work on a poetry project.
Or explore a new creative direction.
Other days, I do not feel inspired.
And I am learning that I do not need to force creativity simply because I have the time.
My identity as an artist does not depend on producing something every day.
I am still a writer when I am not writing.
I am still a musician when I am not recording.
I am still a photographer when I leave my camera at home.
I am still an advocate when I am spending a quiet afternoon taking care of myself.
My work is part of my life.
It is not the entirety of my existence.
And I want to enjoy the life that exists beyond my work.
Sometimes stepping away gives me an opportunity to return with new ideas.
Sometimes it simply gives me a pleasant day.
I do not need to justify either outcome.
I Am Allowed to Change My Plans
One of the freedoms I value is the ability to recognize when I want something different from what I originally planned.
Perhaps I intended to work on an article.
Perhaps I planned to exercise.
Perhaps I thought I would spend the afternoon recording.
But then I notice that I would rather rest.
I am allowed to change my plans.
That does not mean I am unreliable.
It does not mean I lack discipline.
It does not mean I have failed.
It means I am a human being whose needs, energy, and interests can change.
Of course, some responsibilities require attention.
But not every moment of my life is governed by an obligation.
When I have the freedom to choose, I want to use that freedom.
Sometimes I will choose to create.
Sometimes I will choose movement.
Sometimes I will choose rest.
And sometimes I will decide that I do not need a plan at all.
Rest Does Not Mean I Have Stopped Growing
There is a misconception that slowing down means giving up.
That if we are not constantly working toward something, we are falling behind.
But I do not believe growth always looks like forward motion.
Sometimes growth looks like recognizing a boundary.
Sometimes it looks like making a different choice.
Sometimes it looks like learning to enjoy our own company.
Sometimes it looks like no longer needing external approval.
Sometimes it looks like allowing ourselves to rest without guilt.
And sometimes it is simply living our lives without turning every experience into evidence of progress.
I do not need to measure every change.
I do not need to compare myself with who I was five years ago.
I do not need to prove that I am becoming a better person.
I am allowed to appreciate who I am today.
And I am allowed to enjoy moments that do not lead anywhere in particular.
Nothing Is Required of You
When I say, "Nothing Is Required," I am speaking about the freedom to exist without constant pressure.
I am speaking about creating spaces where people do not have to perform.
Where they do not have to explain their experiences.
Where they do not have to produce emotional responses.
Where they do not have to become calm on command.
Where they do not have to earn permission to rest.
I am not suggesting that life has no responsibilities.
I am recognizing that we also deserve moments when nothing is being demanded of us.
Moments when we can simply be.
When we can enjoy the sounds around us.
When we can sit quietly.
When we can move gently.
When we can appreciate our own company.
When we can choose how we spend our time.
And when we can stop without feeling that we have failed.
This philosophy shapes my music, my writing, and the way I continue to approach my own life.
An Invitation to Rest
Perhaps today you have a long list of responsibilities.
Perhaps you are feeling energized and excited about something you are creating.
Perhaps you are tired.
Perhaps you are carrying stress.
Perhaps you are enjoying a peaceful day.
Whatever your circumstances, I want to offer a simple reminder.
You do not have to reach the point of exhaustion before you are allowed to rest.
You do not have to justify every quiet moment.
You do not have to turn rest into another assignment.
You do not have to meditate perfectly.
You do not have to listen to a particular recording.
You do not have to do anything with these words.
You can simply read them and continue with your day.
If you choose to listen to music, you are welcome.
If you choose to enjoy silence, that is welcome, too.
If you choose to move, rest, create, or simply sit with your thoughts, those choices belong to you.
Rest is not a reward for doing enough.
It is part of being human.
You are allowed to enjoy your life without constantly proving that you deserve it.
You are allowed to slow down.
You are allowed to stop.
You are allowed to simply be.
Listening First. Nothing Is Required.
About the Author
Julie Jewels Smoot is a United States Navy veteran, author, poet, survivor advocate, and Sound Alchemist. Her work includes original gong recordings, Tibetan singing bowl listening sessions, hand pan music, guided meditations, poetry, and writing centered on personal autonomy, body awareness, rest, and healing without pressure.
Through her philosophy, Listening First. Nothing Is Required., she creates opportunities for people to experience sound on their own terms, without prescribed emotional outcomes or expectations.
Explore her music, guided listening experiences, and articles at:
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