IT’S ABOUT TIME

For August’s blog post I was going to write about taking time off. About how our lives can feel like they are defined by our output and the relentless quest for what is coming next. But then I took a pause and decided to take my own advice. To have a break from writing anything at all

In 2019 I had a burn out that changed the way I worked. I’d had crashes before - worked myself into a state where I had to take days off because I was so tired that I couldn’t stand up, but on this day I went the extra mile. 

I was painting a large mural and we were beset with bad weather and tight deadlines. So on the last available day I did what I would usually do - which is to throw myself at the task in hand and work at it to make it happen.

It did happen: I completed the whole wall in 12 hours after a 6am start. But then something else happened after I finished, which was that my body just said no. I got really sick and spent weeks recovering.

In the fallout from this, I had to examine  the way I’d been running my life and my work - and figure out how to put looking after myself on the priority list. This was something I hadn’t really done before. And it’s a practise that I’m still working on . 

For me, the first thing to look at was the insidious sense of  guilt I felt whenever I was  resting. Feeling the pressure to always be doing something, believing that that rest was indulgent, that taking time off would threaten my work, my livelihood, and my momentum. I’d internalised this idea that more effort equaled more value.

I was finally able to see how destructive it could be to keep working at all costs and to look into where that guilt came from. Why did I feel so bad for resting? And was rest actually more important than I’d ever realised?

But here’s what surprised me: once I stopped pushing through, and allowed myself real rest, my productivity actually improved. Instead of short bursts of energy followed by long recoveries, I found a steadier rhythm - a more gentle integration. Prioritising rest, making that come first and then doing the work!

In Gestalt theory, there’s a concept called The Fertile Void. I love that phrase. It recognises that pauses aren’t empty - they're essential. It’s in those pauses that creativity takes root.

It describes a space of stillness or emptiness - a pause where it might seem like nothing is happening, but under the surface, something vital is at work. It's a place of potential, not absence. A kind of psychological compost where new ideas, emotions, or directions can begin to take root.

In a world that celebrates constant doing, the Fertile Void invites us to sit with not doing - to rest, reflect, and allow space for what’s next to emerge organically rather than forcefully.

Gestalt therapist Joseph Zinker describes it as:

“...a place where support is withdrawn, where the usual props are gone, and where something new can emerge if we stay with the emptiness long enough.”

For me, this concept helped reframe rest as a necessary part of the creative process, not a break from it. It’s not a retreat or an escape - it’s where the seeds are planted.

Understanding the science behind rest helped me justify it. I stopped seeing it as lazy or selfish. Rest is not a break from productivity, but part of it.

This summer I managed to take a bit of downtime, and what has stood out the most for me was the clarity and focus it gave me. I returned to my work with a sense of purpose I hadn’t felt in a while. I shouldn’t still be surprised by this - but that guilt runs deep. I’m still unlearning old patterns.

I’ve been looking at the work of other artists, reading books and also taking the time to digest that information by taking time out and spending it with the people that I love. And something shifted for me. 

By giving myself the space to stop and take things in, I found myself picking up my paintbrushes and trying something new. I picked up oils for the first time and I started a series of paintings that are very much experimental, not for instagram, not to show the world just yet, but just for me. Time is our most valuable resource, and figuring out how to spend it - or how much to plan - can feel overwhelming, but staying present and accepting the decisions I’ve made about how to spend my time have made me feel more purposeful - and more grounded. 

I’m still learning to get the balance right, and learning to notice when things feel off. To pause and re-centre - but most importantly - to not feel guilty about that. A fertile void. 

Something to care for.

Something worth protecting.