I’d like to tell you a story. One that began a long long time ago, in a time that even our grandparents have forgotten, but that can still be heard in whispers if you spend long enough around the garden.
For aeons our ancestors grew crops that sustained them through hard times. Crops were planted, nurtured and watered, and when the time came, harvested and preserved. In between the warm, growing seasons would come periods of rest, where the land was fallow and allowed to recover, and the people could rest too.
Months would pass where the weather and daylight hours would dictate what people could and couldn’t do. We were exhausted from our long days of tilling the soil, so this natural break allowed us ample time to recharge and plan for the next season.
There was a natural cycle to this growing process. This cycle told us when to take certain actions, when to be busy, and when to rest, and as long as we followed it, we knew we would be ok. This system continued for thousands of years with little change, and the people were generally happy and well. Or maybe not.
At a certain point, man decided that we didn’t need to follow the cycle anymore. That we were somehow immune to the natural order that had sustained us for generations.
People moved to the cities, and specialised in occupations. We became doctors, teachers, and business owners. Butchers, bakers, candlestick makers. Someone else grew our food and we were suddenly liberated from the drudgery of working the fields.
We worked long hours to perfect our crafts, to pay the bills, and to ‘become somebody’.
We made lots of money! Which we used to build bigger houses and move away from our extended family, whom we had lived with forever. Oh the freedom of our own space!
We bought lots of new stuff, which made our lives easier and brought a temporary thrill. Farming would never have afforded these luxuries.
We had fancy titles which made us feel special and important. Indispensable, even.
But then we got sick.
We didn’t even notice it at first, it subtly crept up on us. We may have noticed a niggle, not quite feeling ‘right’, but we carried right along with our jobs believing this to be the way.
Then our bodies started hurting. A constant pain somewhere, our hips, our neck, our low back, our shoulder. We couldn’t even remember the last time we felt right.
And we were constantly tired. Walking around like zombies, half awake, yet half asleep. Once a guaranteed thing when we were farmers, now a good night's sleep felt elusive, and no-one was firing on all 4 cylinders.
And even though we had these big flash houses filled with stuff, we were working such long hours that we didn’t even have time to enjoy it. We didn’t even have enough time to enjoy being a family together.
One day, we finally woke up to what was happening.
We’d somehow been conned into a system of constant growth that was stripping us of our very freedom, joy and vitality, yet all the while promised us those very same things in return.
It was a shock realisation, and almost paralysing to think about how it could be any other way.
But then we remembered the gardens our grandparents used to talk about.
There were seasons of high growth and intense busyness, during planting, trending, harvesting and processing. But then there were fallow seasons when it was cold, the soil was being fed with compost, and the work was finished for the year. It was freezing outside so our ancestors stayed inside, kept warm, well fed, and entertained each other with creative games, plays, songs and dance.
They worked hard, and then they rested. They had balance.
This season of rest does not exist in capitalism that endlessly pursues profit at all costs.
If nature did not have its own fallow seasons built into it, it would collapse, just as industrial agriculture exhausts soil and renders it worthless.
As I look around, the signs are there that capitalism is in its last death throes, or is at least hopefully evolving into something a little more people and planet friendly.
We simply cannot carry on like this. Working all hours of the day and night, struggling to switch off and get a good night's sleep. Living with constant body aches and tension, and struggling to be present with our loved ones.
These days technology means that work pursues us beyond the confines of our workplaces, into our homes and even into the most sacred of places, our bedrooms.
It’s not ok and something has to shift.
What could a rest season look like in our modern work-lives?
(And no, you don't need to go join a commune)
The four day work week : If you haven’t heard of this brilliant concept, it’s basically 80-100-80: where you work 4 days, get paid 100% of your salary, and are expected to be 100% productive. In theory, it works because people are well rested, so instead of working longer, they are working smarter and with more energy. Lots of companies around Aotearoa and the globe have trialled this model with great success, and I 100% believe that schools: tamariki (children), whānau (families) and kaiako (teachers) could also benefit from this model.
Taking breaks for travel: Back when I was an anti-capitalist in my 20’s and 30’s I used to go on a trip every couple of years. I’d work my little heart out and save as much money as I could, then I’d travel on a shoestring and see how long I could eke out my savings for. Travel kept me financially ‘poor’ for years, but I was rich in experiences, joy and inspiration, and felt renewed after every trip. Now that I have a mortgage, travel is on hold for a bit!
Taking a break for study: When I burned out in 2017 I spent the next year studying and it was the best choice I’d ever made. While I was still working hard on my studies, I felt refreshed and revived through shifting my focus and filling my intellectual cup. This may not be financially possible for many, however there are a ton of free courses (in Aoteaora/NZ) through Te Wānanga o Aoteaora and SIT that you could do while working part-time.
A change is as good as a break: The average person has 12 different jobs during their life, and the average age people change careers is 39. Even if you stay in the same career, changing workplaces can be just the boost of fresh energy you need. The best thing about changing jobs is that you get to decide how much of a break you want in between your old job finishing, and your new job starting, so it’s a win-win.
Become a teacher! This is a controversial one, given I am a formerly burned out teacher and the stats for teacher burnout are crazily high. However, if you are great with boundary setting and practising self-care, then teaching offers a natural cycle, with high energy output during term-time, and plentiful opportunities for rest during the roughly 12 weeks of ‘non-contact’ time (holidays). Its boom or bust, and not for everyone, but can be awesome once you are used to the cycles.
Incorporating rest seasons can help us to prevent and recover from burnout. There are so many ways in which to incorporate rest periods in our lives, from little actions like switching the phone to airplane mode, to a more drastic change like a study break.
Observing the natural energic cycles of the garden reminds us of a simpler time when people worked hard, and rested equally well. Yes, we have different economic pressures on us now, but it begs the question: what is this modern lifestyle costing us in terms of our health and happiness, and it is really worth the cost?
We now have tools at our fingertips to choose a different reality, and as individuals make up society, each one of us can also have a say in how we want society to be.
Do we live to work? Or do we work to live? The choice is yours.