Audio Version:
Here we are—the final days of another year. I’m writing this from my corner of the sea in that spot by my window where I always seem to find myself when I need to make sense of things.
The winter Atlantic is particularly moody today, all grays and whites, crashing and retreating, never quite settling. Even in December’s cold, the sea keeps teaching me about the rhythm of rest and motion, holding and releasing.
The house holds us in its winter rhythm, me with my tea by the window, David absorbed in one of his projects, and I’m sitting here marveling at how rest has transformed everything: how I see myself, how I hold difficulty, how I’ve learned that surrender is actually strength.
And now, in these sacred days between Christmas and New Year’s, I want to celebrate something with you. Something that might sound strange at first:
I want to celebrate how hard it is to rest.
Yes, you read that right. Because acknowledging the difficulty is how we honor the courage it takes.
You know that moment when you finally stop—really stop—and suddenly everything you’ve been holding at bay comes flooding in?
When all of that rises up, you’re not falling apart, you’re falling back together. You’re gathering all the pieces of yourself that got scattered throughout this wild year and saying, “Welcome home. I see you. You belong here.”
This is what I’ve discovered in my own journey, especially after my bicycle accident this year (have I told you how that moment of surrender changed everything?): Our resistance to rest isn’t weakness. It’s because we intuitively know that rest is where the real transformation happens. It’s where we stop performing and start being.
The sea knows this secret—it never apologizes for its storms or its stillness. It just is. Fully, unapologetically, powerfully itself.
So as we close out this year, I’m not going to tell you to push through to some grand finale. Instead, I’m inviting you to join me in the radical act of stopping. Right here, right now, in all your incomplete glory.
As we step into the new year, we’re not leaving anything behind. We’re bringing it all, the lessons, the growth, the tender places, the fierce joy, all of it comes with us, integrated and whole.
Thank you for being part of this community, for trusting me with your journey, for showing up again and again to the brave work of rest. You inspire me more than you know.
Sending you so much love as this year completes and the new one whispers its possibilities,
From my corner of the sea to wherever you are,
Sarah 🤍
P.S. If your heart is calling you to make rest your revolution in 2025, I’m here for it. My 40-day self-led Brave Rest journey launches this month.
Let’s discover together what emerges when we stop long enough to truly listen.
