Rest, Resistance, and the Myth of Balance

For the past two years, I’ve been resting. Not the kind of rest that means doing nothing, but the kind of rest that feels like composting. Turning over the soil. Letting all the busy, productive, striving energy of the last decade sink down and break apart, so something new could grow.

It wasn’t graceful. I fought it the whole way. I kept trying to make the pause feel purposeful: gardening, building, business-ing. But even the deer and squirrels reminded me that not everything we fence in or fight for is meant to be controlled. Sometimes the point isn’t the harvest. Sometimes it’s just learning to be there for the process.

In that time, I realized how easy it is to confuse “busy” with “valuable.” We look down on the times we're lazy, as if time spent still is time wasted. But busy isn’t godliness. It’s just another costume for control. Every hour I’ve spent grinding for very little money is no better or worse than someone else’s hours spent scrolling. The thing that actually separates us, if anything does, is presence.

Presence keeps you from spinning out in the extremes. It’s what lets you move between the ebb and flow of work, family, training, and rest without losing yourself in any of it.

I’ve been learning that life balance isn’t a fixed state you achieve. It’s a living rhythm you listen for... sometimes it’s a steady pulse, sometimes it’s chaos on drums. You can’t pin it down. You just try to keep time.

And now, as the year closes, I can feel the shift again, a pull toward movement. Toward training. Toward building. Toward influence. I love the business side of things. The strategy, the problem-solving, the game of it all. But I’m also aware of the cost. Money is nice, but it can’t buy time.

So here I am, stepping into a new season with that awareness in tow. I want to grow, but not force growth. I want to be productive, but not at the expense of presence. I want to keep doing business, but stay true to why I started in the first place: to protect the time and freedom to paddle, to move, to live.

Maybe true balance is impossible. Maybe it’s one of life’s great myths. But I’m going to die trying! Gracefully, clumsily, probably laughing at myself along the way. Because that’s the story I want to live: not one of perfection or control, but of sincerity, presence, and movement in harmony with what life offers next.