Soft Season: Rest as Preparation, Not Reward
My body said stop. So I did. And maybe for once, I listened before it broke all the way down.
For the past two weeks, my back has been quietly begging me to rest. Tension in my traps, sharp aches between my shoulders, a stiffness that wrapped around my spine like a warning. I kept showing up anyway—tending to tasks, answering messages, carrying on.
Until I couldn’t.
This week, the pain got so loud I had to lay everything down. Literally. I came home, pulled out the ibuprofen, heating pad, and tiger balm like armor, and collapsed into bed. My body had been keeping the score, and I could no longer afford to ignore the receipt.
I’m bed-bound for the next few days, and for once, I’m not framing that as failure or as me not being productive.
I’ve been trying to really prioritize rest. Not just when I crash, but before.
Rest before burnout.
Rest before the semester starts in August.
Rest before the world’s expectations get louder than my own needs.
Not the kind of rest that’s earned, but the kind that’s necessary. The kind that whispers, “Slow down now, before I have to make you.”
Especially with grad school starting soon, and a schedule full of exhibitions, fellowships, and creative commitments…I’m trying to build new rhythms for this new and growing chapter ahead.
To ask not just how can I keep going?, but how can I be well while I do?
Because I don’t want to arrive to my next chapter running on fumes.
So this moment? This bed-bound pause? It’s part of the preparation.
It’s not a break from the work.
It is the work.
A reminder that sustainability requires softness. That tenderness is part of the blueprint. That our bodies are not obstacles to our purpose, they are the ground that holds it all.
A few questions I’m sitting with:
🌿 What am I carrying that no one can see?
🌿 Where does my body store pressure, performance, or fear?
🌿 What would it mean to build a life where I don’t have to earn rest, I simply and continuously (just) honor it?
If you’ve been feeling stretched thin or moving through quiet pain, I hope this gives you permission to pause before your body forces you to.
Let rest be the preparation.
Let softness be the strategy.
We don’t have to collapse to deserve care.
We just have to listen.
Rest is resistance. Rest is care.
Let’s not wait until the ache gets unbearable.
Let’s not normalize collapse as the only entry point to rest.
This season is soft, but it’s not passive. It’s preparation.
A slow, sacred gathering of strength, on my terms.
A New Chapter: Expanding This Space Beyond Books
If you’ve been here awhile (aka what a few weeks since I’ve started posting, hehe) then you know this blog started as a love letter to books. The ones that found me, challenged me, and stayed with me long after I turned the last page. Books have been my companions, my grounding, and my language for understanding the world.
But as much as books remain central to my life, I’m finding myself called to hold something more, something deeper.
I’m shifting this space to also hold stories and reflections on rest, softness, and why caring for ourselves is an act of resistance.
As a community architect and creative vessel, I’m learning that to truly and consistently show up for others and for my work, I have to honor my own need for rest and healing. This shift means inviting you in to witness the messy, beautiful, necessary work of slowing down, setting boundaries, and embracing tenderness.
So while books will still appear here because they remain a vital part of my journey, this blog is opening wider. It’s becoming a place for all the stories that don’t fit neatly on a page but live in the body, in the heart, and in the quiet moments between.
Thank you for being here as this space evolves. I hope you’ll find something to hold onto, whether it’s a line from a book or a reflection on what it means to rest in a world that often demands more than we can give.
I’m adjusting the title for now to:
Ink & Inhale: A Shelf & Sanctuary for Quiet Pages and Quiet Minds
Breathing life into stories, rest, and the spaces where reflection meets renewal.
With tenderness and maybe even a warm and back-cracking hug,
Jasmine 🫶🏾