the expansion of inaction

resting in uncertainty, this eclipse season

Hi! I’m Emmie, a writer, poet and teacher from Australia living in Japan. I run an online studio and community called The Daily Rest and last year I established a boutique retreat company here in Japan, TDR Tokyo. In this newsletter I write about life in Tokyo, the seasons, beauty, books, cafes, poetry, travel and doing business (and life), gently. Thank you so much for popping by! There’s a sale on the yearly subscription until the end of September, if you would like to stay awhile.

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Eclipse season is a reminder that sometimes, we just don’t know.

Sometimes, in order to get clear on the right action, we must allow ourselves to experience deep inaction first. Is the choice of inaction a privilege? Sure. Is it a choice most of us have? More than we’ve been trained to think.

Does this type of inaction look like laying around watching netflix and scrolling all day? Absolutely not. Is this type of inaction waiting for the stars to align before you make your move? Also no.

This type of inaction is like sitting on your hands when all you want is to do take off before the starting gun.

Usually, when true inaction is called for, it is deeply uncomfortable.

Usually, when true inaction is called for, it is the last thing you want to do.

True inaction is the opposite of numbing, of staying curled up in your safe and cosy cocoon (of course, both of these have an important place, too).

True inaction breaks the cycle of forever having both feet in the future, exhausted from being disconnected, completely, to the present.

True inaction brings us face to face with everything about our lives and ourselves we would prefer to ignore.

When faced with deep uncertainty, how do you move?

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Have you ever taken a holiday to a place deep in nature, perhaps it’s a trip you’ve planned for months or even years.

You’re so excited to finally arrive, to unwind, to feel like yourself once again.

You fantasise about writing the first draft of that novel, waking with the sun to meditate, to sleep deeply, to connect with nature, to spend time and energy on the things you adore, left behind for lack of time in regular life, only to arrive and… feel like absolute shit.

Perhaps you even feel worse than before.

It makes no sense. You try to push through. You beat yourself up. You berate yourself: why aren’t you making the most of this, why can’t you just feel good.

Please know I say this with love, and with (so much) experience:

This is how you actually feel.

Nature, conscious inaction, Rest: they all reveal your true energetic state.

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The first time I experienced this clearly was during a Restorative Yoga Teacher Training with an Iyengar teacher and sleep scientist Roger Cole, many years ago.

This training was five days straight of hardcore, Restorative Yoga (if hardcore sounds like a strange way to describe Restorative Yoga, please go to an Iyengar restorative class with an old-school teacher in their sixties, and report back to me). During this training, we were in heavily propped, restorative postures for multiple hours each day. We were often in a single posture for up to 45 minutes at a time. (Honestly, it was kind of a psychedelic experience, but this is not the point today).

I imagined I would waltz out of that room each day feeling incredible after so many hours of rest, instead I was absolutely and irrevocably smashed with fatigue. For three straight days I would stumble out of that room feeling like hell.

True Rest reveals the state we are actually in.

I have received this question many times in the past:

Emmie, why do I sometimes feel more exhausted after I rest?

Emmie, why do I often feel more anxious when I slow down?

There is nothing else I can say other than, because you’re exhausted, full stop.

It won’t always feel like this, but if you’re perpetually exhausted, or you’ve been ignoring that exhaustion, that deep inner call for stillness, it is possible you might feel worse, at first, and for awhile.

It’s easy to blame caffeine and sugar on hiding how tired we actually are, and while that is absolutely true, I have known many non-coffee drinking, refined sugar avoiding, extremely “healthy” women who are exhausted to the absolute core.

Regular life all on it’s own is a stimulant stronger than we know.

But I don’t think this has to be a bad thing.

What I hope to do with my work, is to take away the shame around being tired, exhausted, stressed-out. Not to ignore it. Certainly not to normalise it. Not to throw up our hands and say there is no other way. But to be aware of it, and to work with it, with compassion, patience and care.

I use the phrase doing hard things gently because taking your life back from the hungry, grabby hands of late stage capitalism is hard. It’s actually a whole lot easier to feel like shit. Until your body and/or your mind eventually, but inevitably gives up.

A scary thought.

The Rest practice is where we defrag the body, the emotions and the mental state.

Sometimes it feels like sinking into a hot bath on a freezing day, pure and immediate relief. Sometimes we are so tired, we zone out or fall asleep. Sometimes, the moment we turn off the external noise, the internal rage blasts up to 100 and it feels almost unbearable to be in our bodies, to be with ourselves. Sometimes we feel immediately energised afterwards. Sometimes, we feel worse. Which is not a sign we are doing anything wrong.

I am often mistaken for being someone who is in a perpetual state of ease which (I hope) is so obviously not the case. I have consciously made choices in my life that make stress a natural part of my existence. Stress is not inherently bad or wrong, and can be a very healthy and rewarding part of building a rich life, but not if we live there forever. Not if we’re so used to doing the most, taking any kind of break starts to feel wrong. Not if our stress defines our worth.

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During that first restorative training, part of me wanted to run away from it as fast as I could, back into the wild distraction of my life.

Having to sit in the reality of the bone deep fatigue was all consuming and deeply uncomfortable. But of course, I continued to show up, dragging my feet, yawning before the day had even begun. Then on the fourth day, it cleared. The fog lifted. It felt like years worth of exhaustion had poured out of my body. My eyes physically brightened. I was light. My energy was grounded, but high. I will never forget the feeling. This began my real obsession with centring Rest in a world that makes us feel wrong, weak or entitled for even considering it.

I went on to have this experience many, many times in the years following. In the English countryside. On a ranch in the middle of absolute nowhere in Montana. In the embrace of Ubud. Every single time I land back in my parents backyard studio from the city. Every single time I felt worse, first.

I also witness it in other women while hosting retreats.

Everyone arrives flush with excitement, with oh my god I NEED this, with oooh-ing and ahhh-ing at the beauty of the space, the food, the trees, the new connections made over a dinner none of us had to prepare.

And then it hits.

There is a kind of unravelling, when you take it all away:

The job, the kids, the laundry. The deciding what to have for dinner, the scrolling, the familiar hum of your town or city, the familiar rhythm of your day, the never-ending to do list of regular life, the emails we need to reply to, the bills that have to be paid.

Sometimes, for some people, it’s a balm, immediately. They sink into the embrace of nature, of a women’s retreat, where all you have to do is be taken care of.

For most of us though, that decompression can feel heavy, before we reach that sensation of relief. It’s a true whiplash from our regular state. It can show up a million different, unexpected ways. There are often tears and resistance. It can feel ugly. You can feel so annoyed with yourself, imagining you’re the only one having this experience.

And then, it shifts.

It’s one of the greatest blessings I’ve received in this life: to take care of women. To witness the softening, how the face quite literally changes when you rest, indulge, connect, come back to life.

How all of us just know:

This is how I’m supposed to feel.

I never want to forget.

moments of our onsen retreat, earlier this year

I talk about rest and inaction during eclipse season because eclipse season can bring shake ups, instability, sudden change, a feeling of things falling apart.

Because like attracts like, from this place it’s so easy to reach for more distraction, more dopamine.

It’s tempting to throw ourselves into the fire, try to fix, to find solutions, to keep moving at rapid speed: anything to avoid feeling what is coming to the surface. Most of the time, we don’t even realise we’re doing it.

Eclipse season can be a beautiful testing ground for life in general.

Can I pause when my skin is crawling to find a solution?

Can I be still when my mind is on fire?

Can I sit on my hands in uncertainty?

Can I give a little space around the void instead of trying to fill it instantly?

Eclipse season can remind us that inaction is often the fastest path forward.

And yet most people will never allow themselves to even taste it.

Every time we sit on our hands instead of taking premature, unnecessary action out of anxiety, duty or fear we buy ourselves the most valuable resource of all: space, ease and time.

But just like Rest, if you’ve never allowed yourself to do this, if you’ve always run forward at high speed, even if it’s right, in the beginning, you will probably feel like shit.

Trust it will shift.

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How to ground in seasons of instability

I know that many people who gather here are not into extreme rigidity when it comes to routines and rituals and I am right there with you! There are still many ways we can create consistency without being rigid, which I feel is especially important during times like this.

A Daily Rest Practice (I’m biased! Of course!) but even ten minutes a day can and will make a difference, I promise. In seasons of instability, committing to the same practice each day can be extremely powerful. Commit to it, but go easy on yourself by following the most days approach.

Time in Nature: I’ve been starting my mornings at the local shrine with a travel tea set and my notebook. It takes a little extra effort to pack everything up in my straw bag and get out of the house, but it is so, so worth it. Find a tree in your neighbourhood and develop a relationship with it. Buy fresh flowers every other week. Tend to a houseplant. Find a natural body of water and co-regulate.

Micro Trips (even a day trip) out of your city / town: you could join a retreat ;), take a solo writing trip, a micro trip to a city you’ve been dreaming of or simply a day trip to somewhere outside of your everyday life. It might even be a restaurant or cafe that is out of the way from your usual — there can be a huge reset when we distance ourselves from the sameness of the everyday.

Weekends without social media: A classic for a reason. Whenever I’m going through a stress-y unstable time I know I’ll be more likely to reach for my phone for distraction, and sometimes the only way to beat it, is to ban it, even just for a day, or within a certain timeframe.

Take an actual lunch break! I had to add this one after this morning’s soft business circle (a member described these circles today as therapy 🥲) with

sierra mcdaniel

- we talked about the importance of sometimes just doing the bare minimum in business (and life!) for good-girl, over-achievers and honestly the biggest take-away for me was to take an actual one hour, no-work lunch break. Isn’t it insane we don’t do this!? Or feel guilty if we do? Please can we all collectively bring back the REAL lunch break? And an afternoon micro-rest too?

Okay I’m sending you all so much love, and many tiny nudges to pause, settle, ground and REST this eclipse season, or anytime you are navigating the unsteadiness of life.