Shall I share some sweet irony with you? Or perhaps you’ll call it muddled, unfocused hypocrisy? Recently I flew to Sydney to appear in this Australian Women’s Weekly Christmas shoot below. Myself and a bunch of other (too?) oft-photographed ladies were asked “what’s the perfect gift that money can’t buy”. I said: “rest”.
As usual, the trip was frenetic and involved air-conditioned hotel rooms and flights and running late and chemical-ly makeup (although the team decided to go with a “natural look” for me, which is always a bit of a narcissistic conundrum when you’re the oldest and biggest on the shoot!). By the time I got to the studios I was, well, very unrested. And unanchored.
That night I lay awake in my hotel room unable to sleep. I hadn’t slept for weeks (months?). And in that moment I realised I had to put my book project on hold, which I shared with you here.
I needed rest. I had to really commit to getting it. I had to get real.
Irony…hypocrisy…whatever…truth comes and finds you.
Since all this I’ve had to have a good think about rest.
Resting is not just putting our feet up on the couch when we collapse in a heap, exhausted. Resting is a responsible way of living.