Just Be

You've tried everything—from working less to taking vitamins and quitting coffee—to cope with stress overload, and you still feel drained. But have you tried just doing nothing? In medical parlance, it's called constructive rest.

By Chris Colin

I'm balancing on my father's tennis shoes, age eight. Some neighbor is talking—grown-up talk about gutters or football—but then he stops and looks down at me. "Third grade," he says cheerily. "So, what's your favorite subject?" I don't hesitate: "Recess." I flash a self-conscious smile.

Recess, I'm thinking, really is better than math and history—it's what I've just learned, still swirling in my head, plus the freedom to digest it, plus the Jungle Gym, plus some rare emptiness. But I smile because at eight years old, I already know what's expected. Although no one has ever sat down to explain it to me, I understand the requirements of a culture driven by a work ethic, the need to keep unstructured time in its place. So, I go on to say to the nice man that spelling's pretty good too. I regret it to this day.

Twenty years later, I'm thinking about recess-ish things. And work ethic. And rare emptiness. Adult life suffers a conspicuous lack of scheduled recess; we just carve out rough approximations of it now and then.

Indeed, a few yoga practitioners might confess that their favorite part of class is Savasana (Corpse Pose), the silent minutes of lying still at the end (see "Find Serenity in Savasana"). They too might flash a self-conscious smile afterward. In a country that often measures its self-worth in productivity, who wouldn't feel funny calling rest a worthwhile pastime?

But beneath the funny feeling, there exists something serious. And so it is that, as another overbusy American, I'm trying to imagine a full-bore Savasana built into our lives—not the yoga pose itself but rather something broader. Having remembered to call our dads on Father's Day, we'd hang up and reflect before sitting down to pay bills. After an intense business meeting, we'd head someplace quiet to digest the experience. Instead of downing coffee and the front page before work, we'd indulge in the quiet of the morning. The possibilities are endless, not to mention diverting. On crowded street corners, one would see not just bus stops but people stops. Instead of iPods and cell phones, people wouldn't leave home without their lavender-scented eye pillows. Yes, there would be laughing at first. But soon enough, someone would point out that laughing is a kind of rest too.

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