It’s okay to rest. The world is unravelling.

When you look into the horizon and all you see are horrors and problems that continue to mushroom into the darkest storm cloud you’ve ever seen — with no shape, or direction, just hanging over us ominously — it’s difficult to see things clearly. We’re right to be scared.

Everyone is so very tired for a million different and valid reasons.

I want solutions. I know you want them too. But, let’s set aside blame and fury just for a moment. It’s okay. I promise you all that stuff will still be there when we’re done.

There’s a lot of conversation right now about mental health. Although I think it’s more accurate to call it mental anguish. Pain. Fear. Suffering. That’s what lies underneath all the conflict and misery.

You, dear reader, care a lot and feel an obligation to make things better. You’re a good person. That’s a good thing.

But, you don’t control the tsunami of problems. Or perhaps you hold of a part of it but the systems you’re living in continue to trip you up on the way to better.

So exhausted. I know. It’s a lot.

Leave all the spinning plates and the idea you need to keep everyone around you happy aside for a moment.

It’s okay to take care of your insides right now.

Let’s be objective. Are you lucky enough to be in a safe place? Some stability? Hold on to that.

Now, gentle. What can you do right now to feel better?

There’s no shame in letting your world get smaller, just for a moment, for an hour, a day, or if you’re really privileged perhaps a weekend. Let the view narrow to just what’s in front of you.

Little things. The way the light bounces around your space. The feeling of clean, warm water cascading over your skin. The smell of washed laundry.

Breathe.

Watch the people you love at rest, maybe reading or laughing at some ridiculous distraction. It’s okay to appreciate the simplicity of watching life happen without direction. Without your action.

Slow down your breathing to really hear the tone of someone’s voice. Listen carefully to what’s happening underneath the energy. Be present.

Or maybe you’re fortunate enough to have a pet in your life, a creature who isn’t burdened by the heaviness of all the things and who can snuggle up against you with no particular agenda. Easy, warm comfort. Something to be grateful for.

Or maybe, like me, you’re alone a lot but find solace in your favourite music undulating between your ears. Move — outside — and feel the crisp air of Fall against your face. Let the sound of people’s feelings in between the flow of melody remind you that you’re not alone.

Eyes open with no particular aim. The things you’re taking in are real — tangible — even if you don’t take a picture and post it online.

There’s nothing for you to do right now. You’re here. Alive. Enough.

Can you sit with quiet for long enough to put some distance between the endless stimulus of life right now and your reaction to it?

It’s okay, just for a second, to put it all down.

Put down the things you can’t control. The infuriating injustices and hardship and the depressing inaction that just seems to get worse.

Put down the relentless expectations you’ve put on yourself to be somewhere in particular. To have achieved something great and meaningful.

Just put it down for a second & be exactly where you are. Listen closely.

Rest.

You might hear and feel exactly what you need to be stronger tomorrow.

And, perhaps more importantly, feel grounded enough to make space for other people to feel the same.

It’s okay to rest. The world is unravelling.