Dare to Rest: Hearing Winter’s Call to Pause and Reflect
Yin energy is at its peak in winter—when daylight is scarce, temperatures are cooler, and nature’s movements are more still. Winter whispers an invitation to slow down, to pause, to rest. The phrase “Dare to Rest” may remind you of Karen Brody’s powerful book, Dare to Rest, which explores the practice of Yoga Nidra and its transformative potential for deep rest and restoration. Inspired by her message, I want to explore how winter naturally invites us into a season of stillness and reflection.
For many of us, rest can feel like laziness. Conditioned by societal norms and the demands of work, we resist slowing down, fearing it leads to lethargy or even failure. But as Brody encourages in her book, daring to rest is not just beneficial—it’s necessary.
Resting can be intimidating. Slowing down means stepping out of the busyness of life and facing what we may have been avoiding—our worries, fears, and longings. It can be uncomfortable, yet it is necessary. Our bodies and minds crave stillness, especially after the high-energy seasons of spring and summer.
Reflecting on my past year, I see the cycle so clearly. This summer was filled with activity—creating content, working on my online business, caring for and connecting with family, traveling, and attending outdoor music festivals. As fall arrived, I naturally shifted inward. I became more instep with the shorter days during the latter part of autumn while teaching the Qigong Challenge and that supported focusing on my relationships, attending therapy, meditating with my sangha, and retreating to quiet spaces. Now, as winter sets in, I feel nature’s pull to rest. I remind myself: slowing down does not mean falling behind.
There is wisdom in waiting. As Lao Tzu beautifully said:
“Can you wait until the mud settles and the water becomes clear before taking the right action?"
Winter offers us the chance to do just that. Instead of rushing into the new year with a list of resolutions, we can let the lessons and experiences of 2024 settle. Like muddy water becoming clear, clarity arises when we allow stillness.
This year, I’m resisting the urge to superimpose goals or ambitions onto the fresh calendar. I’m watching my mind spin its plans for 2025, but I’m choosing to simply observe. It’s okay to watch without acting, to listen without planning, to let go without forcing.
Winter invites us to turn inward—not only into the warmth of our homes but into the sanctuary of our own being. In stillness, we can rest, reflect, and prepare for what lies ahead.
So, I dare you: rest this winter. Pause the rushing. Resist the resolutions. Let the mud settle, the water clear, and the wisdom of stillness guide you into 2025.
