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Apparently You're Allowed to Rest

Maybe you have heard of this story, maybe you haven't, but since you're here...

There were these two lumberjacks. Every morning they started cutting wood at the same time. Every evening they stopped cutting wood at the same time. But every day, in the middle of the day, one of the lumberjacks disappeared for an hour.

And every single day, that lumberjack cut more wood than the other.

One day, after months of this, the lumberjack who worked all day finally asked, “I have to know… every day we start at the same time and stop at the same time. Every day you disappear for an hour, and yet you cut more wood than I do. Where do you go?”

The other lumberjack looked up and said, “Oh. I go home and sharpen my axe.”

Working all the time doesn't make you more productive. Taking breaks and sharpening your axe makes you more productive.

Well… who would have thought?

I believe it was ingrained into my generation (woot woot to those born in the early 80s). Here are just a few sayings that many of us probably heard growing up:

  • Sleep when you're dead
  • Idle hands are the devil's playthings
  • If you've got time to lean, you've got time to clean
  • Work before play
  • No rest for the wicked
  • You can rest when the work is done
  • There's always something that needs doing
  • Don't just sit there, do something
  • Earn your keep
  • Pull your weight
  • Do your part

I do not believe my parents raised me with the intent of devaluing rest. They wanted me to grow up to be a hardworking, contributing member of society. And to be fair, my parents are some of the hardest working people I know.

But I heard things like this so often, in so many different ways and contexts, that eventually I began to believe something deeper: that my value as a person was measured primarily in what I produced or provided.

At some point, there was a disconnect. Somewhere along the line, productivity stopped being something I did and became something that I was.

So circling back to the story of the two lumberjacks, I can only imagine what the lumberjack who stayed out all day was thinking while the other one disappeared for an hour.

“What a lazy piece of ****. How is he still cutting more wood than me?”

Instantly, the excuses start pouring out. Maybe the other guy has a bigger axe. Maybe he has better clothes. Maybe he’s cutting softer wood. Maybe he’s just naturally stronger.

Anything but the possibility that the problem might actually be the axe.

It has really only been in adulthood that I’ve started to see things a little more clearly. I’ve learned to be more introspective. To take more personal accountability. To step back and ask harder questions.

There were some very rough years recently. I can't say everything is completely ironed out yet, but I’m hopeful that as time passes, the bumps in the road become fewer and farther between.

But one thing I have learned is this: it’s okay to rest.

It’s okay to not be constantly moving.

Maybe it’s my 40s catching up with me. Maybe I’m finally learning to listen to myself a little more. Maybe I’m just becoming more at peace with who I am.

One of the things I appreciate most about Amanda is that we can simply exist in the same space together and be… boring. We can sit on the couch. Watch a show. Scroll our phones. Talk. Or not talk.

And in those quiet moments, I don’t feel this constant pressure to prove my worth.

Because she already sees it.

Maybe the lesson of the lumberjack story isn’t really about productivity after all.

Maybe it’s about learning that sometimes the most important thing you can do…

is step away long enough to sharpen the axe.

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