Why Every Soul Needs a Favorite Chair
For years, I believed rest had to be earned.
If the dishes were done.
If the emails were answered.
If the work was finished.
If everyone else was taken care of.
Then…
maybe…
I’d sit down.
The funny thing about life is that the work is never really finished.
There is always another load of laundry.
Another email.
Another appointment.
Another room to paint.
Another dream to build.
If we wait until everything is done before we allow ourselves to rest, we may spend an entire lifetime standing.
The White Chair
When I opened my studio, I imagined every corner would eventually be filled.
Filled with clients.
Filled with workshops.
Filled with ideas.
Instead, something unexpected happened.
There were quiet hours.
Hours between appointments.
Hours when the studio belonged only to me.
At first, I wondered if I should be doing more.
Marketing more.
Working more.
Producing more.
Instead, I bought myself a big white office chair.
The kind on castor wheels.
It even has a built-in leg rest that pulls out.
It’s probably the least “spiritual” piece of furniture you’ll ever see.
And I absolutely love it.
I didn’t buy it because I needed another chair.
I bought it because I needed permission.
Permission to be comfortable.
Permission to put my feet up.
Permission to stop believing that every moment had to be productive.
Some mornings you’ll find me rolling myself over to the window with a cup of coffee, putting my feet up, and watching my Norwegian tree sway gently in the breeze.
Some of my best ideas have arrived with my feet up, a warm mug in my hands, and absolutely nowhere I needed to be for the next hour.
It reminds me that my studio isn’t just where I work.
It’s where I live a little.
The Norwegian Tree
Behind that chair stands my tall Norwegian tree that fills the studio window.
It changes with every season.
In spring, it stretches awake.
In summer, it dances in the wind.
In autumn, it quietly lets go.
In winter, it simply rests.
The tree never seems to be in a hurry.
It doesn’t wonder if it’s accomplished enough today.
It doesn’t compare itself to the maple down the street.
It simply stands.
Growing.
Breathing.
Receiving the light.
Some mornings I write.
Some mornings I think.
Some mornings I simply watch.
I’ve stopped believing those mornings are unproductive.
In many ways, they’re the most important work I do.
The Studio Changed Me
One day, while sitting in that chair, I realized something.
My studio wasn’t just a treatment room anymore.
It had quietly become my creative home.
The hours that weren’t filled with appointments weren’t empty.
They belonged to imagination.
They belonged to books that hadn’t been written yet.
Ideas that hadn’t arrived yet.
Dreams that were still deciding what they wanted to become.
That empty space wasn’t waiting for clients.
It was waiting for me.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing the time between appointments as downtime.
It became dream time.
The place where articles are born.
Where meditations begin.
Where books quietly introduce themselves.
Where I can simply be Sue.
Nature Never Rushes Beauty
The older I get, the more I notice that nature doesn’t seem particularly interested in efficiency.
Trees don’t rush spring.
Wildflowers don’t bloom all year just to prove they’re hardworking.
Even the forest rests. (For rest)
Winter isn’t failure.
It’s part of the rhythm.
Somehow, we’ve convinced ourselves that constant productivity is healthy.
Nature gently disagrees.
Everything breathes in.
Everything breathes out.
Everything grows.
Everything rests.
Perhaps we’re meant to do the same.
The Sacred Pause
I’ve started to believe there is something sacred about doing nothing for a little while.
Not scrolling.
Not planning.
Not fixing.
Just being.
Listening to birds.
Watching leaves move.
Feeling the warmth of a coffee mug between your hands.
There is a quiet kind of wisdom that only arrives after we’ve stopped trying so hard to find it.
It doesn’t interrupt busy people.
It waits patiently for stillness.
Walking Between Worlds
Walking Between Worlds has taught me that there are two ways to spend our lives.
We can move from task to task, always chasing the next destination.
Or we can occasionally stop beneath a tree and remember that we are already living the life we’ve been hurrying toward.
I think many of us postpone our happiness.
“When I retire…”
“When I lose the weight…”
“When I pay off the debt…”
“When everything settles down…”
Life keeps gently whispering,
“What about today?”
The Forest Is Good Company
I’ve noticed something else.
Trees don’t ask anything of me.
They don’t need me to explain myself.
They don’t care how productive I’ve been.
They simply offer their presence.
Perhaps that’s why I’ve grown to love sitting beside them.
The forest has become one of my oldest friends.
It has taught me resilience.
Patience.
Stewardship.
Delight.
And now, perhaps most importantly…
Rest.
The Invitation
If you don’t already have one…
Find your chair.
Maybe it’s a big office chair on wheels.
Maybe it’s an old porch swing.
Maybe it’s beside a window.
Maybe it’s under an old tree.
Maybe it’s a park bench overlooking the river.
It doesn’t have to look spiritual.
It only has to feel like home.
Make yourself a cup of coffee.
Or tea.
Or simply sit quietly.
Leave your phone inside.
Put your feet up.
Watch the light change.
Notice the birds.
Feel the breeze.
You might discover that your best ideas aren’t born while you’re rushing through life.
They’re quietly waiting for you…
…in your favourite chair, beside a tree.
Thank you for reading.
I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Do you have a favourite chair? A place where your soul seems to settle, and life slows down just enough for you to hear yourself think?
