Sacred Rest was born from something I’m still learning… how to truly rest.
This painting, a purple water lily gently floating on still water, represents the kind of rest we often overlook… or resist. For me, water has always been a place of healing. Sitting beside it, listening to the quiet rhythm of waves, soaking in stillness, or even standing barefoot in the earth during a downpour—it has a way of pulling me out of the noise and back into myself.
And yet, rest doesn’t come naturally to me.
One definition of “sacred” is highly valued and important. When I reflect on that, I realize how often I treat rest as optional—something to earn, something to get to later, something less important than doing, creating, producing. But what if rest isn’t secondary? What if it’s sacred?
There’s an old story about two men chopping wood. One works endlessly, refusing to stop. The other pauses regularly to sharpen his axe. In the end, the one who rested accomplished more and it’s not because he worked harder, but because he honored the pause. The first man grew exhausted, his blade dull, his effort heavier with every swing.
I see myself in that first man more often than I’d like to admit.
Like the water lily, we move through murky waters, through busyness, expectations, and the constant pull to keep going. But what I love about the water lily is this: it doesn’t stay open all the time. At night, it closes. It retreats. And then, with the rhythm of nature, it opens again.
Rest is not weakness. It is part of the blooming.
The purple water lily carries its own symbolism—power, depth, transformation. And that’s what this piece represents: there is power in rest. Not passive power, but restorative power. The kind that renews, sharpens, and prepares us to rise again.
Sacred Rest is both an invitation and a reminder.
To slow down.
To pause without guilt.
To honor the quiet moments as much as the productive ones.
Because rest isn’t something we fall behind on.
It’s something we return to, again and again, so we can truly bloom.
