8) Seasons, Rest, and the Myth of Constant Productivity

Everything works in cycles. Seasons.

But we have forgotten these seasons and their impact at a visceral, cellular level.

We live in a culture that demands constant growth, constant productivity, constant engagement. If you’re not posting, you’re silent. If you’re not organizing, you’re complicit. If you’re not active, you don’t care.

But that’s not how anything in nature actually works.

Trees don’t apologize for going dormant in winter. Fields don’t feel guilty for lying fallow. Animals don’t question whether they deserve to hibernate.

They understand what we’ve forgotten: there will probably be times of dormant. That doesn’t mean the system won’t or will never change. Sometimes there’s a period of rest.

And here’s what’s beautiful and hard about collective work: sometimes it’s MY period of rest when it’s someone else’s active growth period.

That’s not failure. That’s how sustainable systems actually function.

The Productivity Myth Applied to Activism

We’ve taken the worst parts of capitalism—the relentless drive for productivity, the worship of busyness, the equation of worth with output—and applied them to the work of justice and change.

We measure our value by how much we post, how many meetings we attend, how visible our engagement is, how loudly we speak.

And it’s killing us.

Not metaphorically. Literally. Activist burnout is real [1]. Compassion fatigue is real. The breakdown of bodies and relationships and mental health in service of “the work” is real.

And we’ve turned it into a badge of honor. “I’m so tired.” “I haven’t slept.” “I don’t have time to rest.” “The work is too important.”

This doesn’t make you more committed. It makes you less effective.

Because exhausted people make bad decisions. Depleted people can’t think strategically. Burned-out people either quit entirely or become the kind of rigid, reactive activists who drive others away.

Burnout doesn’t create change. It creates casualties.

The Dangerous Belief: “I Can’t Stop Now”

I hear this constantly: “I know I need rest, but how can I rest when [the crisis] is happening?”

Fill in the blank with whatever urgent issue is front and center. Climate emergency. Democracy under threat. Kids dying. Rights being stripped away.

The crisis is always happening. There’s always a reason you can’t stop.

And that’s the trap. Because if you operate from the belief that rest is only acceptable when there’s no crisis, you will never rest. And eventually, you’ll collapse.

Or worse: you’ll become so disconnected from your own needs, your own body, your own humanity that you start treating other people the same way. You demand they sacrifice as much as you have. You judge anyone who takes a break. You create a culture where burnout is the cost of entry.

And that culture doesn’t create sustainable movements. It creates martyrs and dropouts.

Activist and poet Audre Lorde said it decades ago: “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare,” [2].

Rest is not weakness. Rest is resistance.

What Systems Theory Teaches About Cycles

Family systems don’t function at peak intensity all the time. They have seasons.

There are seasons of crisis—when all hands are on deck, when everyone’s activated, when survival requires maximum effort.

There are seasons of growth—when things are stable enough to expand, to try new things, to invest in development.

There are seasons of maintenance—when the work is to sustain what’s already built, to keep things functioning without pushing for more.

And there are seasons of rest—when the system needs to pause, to recover, to replenish resources before the next cycle begins.

Healthy systems move through all of these. Unhealthy systems get stuck in one.

When you get stuck in crisis mode—constantly activated, constantly in emergency response—the nervous system breaks down. The body breaks down. Relationships break down.[^3]

When you get stuck in dormancy—never activating, never responding to real threats—the system becomes complacent, stagnant, vulnerable.

Both extremes are dangerous.

The key is knowing which season you’re in, honoring what that season requires, and trusting that seasons change.

The Beauty of Collective Rhythms

Here’s what makes collective work beautiful: we don’t all need to be in the same season at the same time.

In fact, we shouldn’t be.

A healthy movement needs:

• People in active growth mode—leading campaigns, organizing, pushing forward

• People in maintenance mode—keeping infrastructure running, supporting what exists

• People in rest mode—recovering, learning, preparing for the next cycle

• People in reflection mode—processing, strategizing, envisioning what’s next

When everyone tries to be in active growth mode simultaneously, the movement burns out.

When everyone’s in rest mode simultaneously, the movement stalls.

But when we trust each other to move through different seasons, we create sustainable collective capacity.

Sometimes it’s my period of rest when it’s someone else’s active growth period. That doesn’t mean I’m abandoning the work. It means I’m trusting you to carry it while I recover so that I can carry it when you need to rest.

This is the beauty of living within a collective. And it doesn’t mean double down, do two times what you’re able to do, provide more. Sometimes more is just more—it doesn’t actually help.

How to Know What Season You’re In

Your body knows.

Before your brain rationalizes it, before you create stories about what you “should” be able to handle, your body tells you what season you’re in.

Signs you’re in a rest season:

• You feel depleted, empty, like you have nothing left to give

• You’re getting sick more often

• You’re snapping at people you love

• You can’t concentrate or think clearly

• You’re consuming information but can’t translate it to action

• Everything feels heavy, impossible, overwhelming

Signs you’re in an active season:

• You feel energized by the work

• You’re generating ideas and strategies

• You can handle conflict without collapsing

• You’re sleeping reasonably well

• You’re able to sustain effort without resentment

Signs you’re in a transition season:

• You’re feeling restless in rest

• You’re feeling depleted in action

• Something is shifting but you’re not sure what yet

• You need space to think, to process, to integrate

The practice is paying attention. Not overriding what your body is telling you. Not shaming yourself for being in a season you don’t want to be in.

Rest Is Not Binary

Here’s what’s important to understand: rest doesn’t mean doing nothing.

Sometimes rest looks like:

• Reducing your commitments from 10 to 3

• Stepping back from leadership while staying connected

• Focusing on local, tangible action instead of consuming endless crisis news

• Shifting from public-facing work to behind-the-scenes support

• Learning instead of teaching

• Processing your own trauma instead of holding space for others’

You can rest and still be engaged. You can rest and still care deeply. You can rest and still contribute.

Rest just means you’re no longer operating from depletion. You’re no longer giving from an empty well. You’re no longer pretending you’re fine when you’re not.

Tricia Hersey, founder of The Nap Ministry, teaches that rest is a form of resistance in a system designed to extract everything from us until we’re used up [4]. That in a culture that glorifies exhaustion, choosing to rest is a radical act.

Not self-indulgent. Not lazy. Not weak.

Radical.

What to Do When You Can’t Rest

I know. I know not everyone has the privilege to rest.

Single parents working multiple jobs don’t have the luxury of taking a break.

People in survival mode—navigating poverty, homelessness, violence, immigration status—can’t just opt out.

People whose bodies or identities make them targets can’t take a vacation from vigilance.

This is real. And it’s evidence of how broken our systems are.

But here’s what’s also true: even in those circumstances, there are different kinds of rest.

Rest isn’t always a week-long retreat (though if you can access that, take it).

Rest can be:

• 10 minutes of not checking your phone

• Saying no to one more thing

• Letting someone else lead the meeting

• Taking a walk without an agenda

• Allowing yourself to feel something without immediately trying to fix it

• Eating one meal mindfully instead of while scrolling

These aren’t luxuries. These are survival strategies.

And when we frame rest as “something only privileged people can do,” we perpetuate the belief that depleted people are supposed to keep pushing. That exhausted people are supposed to keep giving.

That’s the system talking. Don’t let it win.

How to Support Others in Different Seasons

If you’re in an active season and someone you care about is in a rest season, here’s how you support them:

Don’t:

• Guilt them (“Must be nice to take a break”)

• Question their commitment (“I guess this isn’t that important to you”)

• Assign them work anyway (“Just this one small thing…”)

• Treat their rest as weakness (“I could never do that”)

Do:

• Affirm their need (“Rest is important. I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself”)

• Reduce their logistical load (“I’ll handle that. Don’t worry about it”)

• Check in without expectation (“How are you? What do you need?”)

• Trust that they’ll return when they’re ready (“Looking forward to having you back when the time is right”)

Remember: you will be in their position eventually. How you treat people in rest seasons sets the precedent for how you’ll be treated when you are there.

Seasons Change

Here’s the hope in all of this: seasons change.

Winter doesn’t last forever. Neither does summer.

If you’re in a rest season and you’re worried you’ve lost your fire, you haven’t. You’re recovering it. Give yourself time.

If you’re in an active season and you’re worried you’ll never be able to stop, you will. Seasons change whether we want them to or not.

The question is: will you honor the season you’re in, or will you fight it until your body forces you to stop?

Because here’s what I’ve learned: you can choose to rest, or your body will choose for you. And when your body chooses, it’s not gentle. It’s a shutdown. A breakdown. A crisis.

Voluntary rest is gentler than forced rest. But either way, rest will happen.

So What?

Take a moment right now and ask yourself:

1. What season am I in? (Rest? Active growth? Transition? Be honest.)

2. What does this season require from me? (Not what I wish it required. What it actually requires.)

3. Am I honoring that, or fighting it? (What would change if I stopped fighting?)

4. Who in my community is in a different season? (How can I support them? How can I receive support?)

5. What’s one small way I can honor my season this week? (One boundary. One permission slip. One act of rest.)

We have seasons in our life. And if you’re going through a hard one, know it will pass.

The work will still be there when you come back. In fact, you’ll be more effective when you return resourced than if you’d stayed depleted.

Trust the seasons. Trust the cycles. Trust that you don’t have to carry everything all the time.

Rest is not the enemy of change. Burnout is.

CITATIONS

1. Gorski, P. C., & Chen, C. (2015). “Fraying at the edges: Teaching about and for equity and social justice as social justice activism.” Equity & Excellence in Education, 48(2), 178-196.

2. Lorde, A. (1988). A Burst of Light: Essays. Ithaca, NY: Firebrand Books.

3. Porges, S. W. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-Regulation. New York: W.W. Norton & Company.

4. Hersey, T. (2022). Rest Is Resistance: A Manifesto. New York: Little, Brown Spark.

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