Soft Return Sunday

The Rhythm of Rest: A Soft Sunday Rebellion

A Softer Rhythm

It rained today.
Not a storm, not a downpour. Just enough to quiet the world.
Just enough to remind my body it was safe to slow down into my post-event ritual.

After holding space yesterday with eleven powerful Black women —
women who said no to the Saturday runaround,
who said yes to resting in community,
to breathing together,
to learning how to heal racialized trauma through story, breath, and somatic practice, my whole being needed a pause.

I’m learning that holding space doesn’t end when the event does.
The body still needs care.
The ritual continues.

So I napped.
I curled up in bed with a few books,
and I let Sunday have her way with me.

Venue ABA Art Gallery | Event The Soft Return: A Somatic Healing Journey

There’s something about the rhythm of the days, isn’t there?
We like to think we’re free.
But so many of us have been patterned,
conditioned into rhythms we didn’t choose.

Someone even named it for us: Wednesday. Hump Day.
As if getting through the week is a mountain we’re always climbing.
Saturday rushes in with errands and obligation.
Sunday holds the weight of what’s coming.
And somehow, even rest starts to feel like work.

Five days on and two days off still doesn’t feel like rest.
It often feels like survival with a different name.
We move through the week on autopilot,
patterned into rhythms we never consented to,
secretly counting down to the next vacation,
the next long weekend,
the next moment we’re allowed to exhale.

But when it finally comes,
it barely touches the exhaustion.
Because we never really left the grind.
We just paused it, then jumped right back in.

This is why Saturday rest is radical.
Why eleven Black women gathering to breathe and slow down is a soft rebellion.
A refusal to follow the unspoken rules of time.
A breaking away from conditioned responses and societal patterns.
We said no.
We reclaimed space.
We reclaimed time.
We reclaimed rest.

This is my soft girl era flex.
But really, it’s my post-event ritual.

Whenever possible, after I pour out and hold space for others, I plan to rest.
Not rest if there’s time.
Planned. On purpose. Sacred.

Today I’ve been napping,
watching TV,
reading We Will Rest,
eating lasagna and a salad in bed.
No Journaling.
No planning.
Just being.

The only thing I did was write this note to you from my bed.

A reminder to you-

How do you rest?
You rest by resting.
You just do it.

How do you rest?
You rest by unlearning the lies.
They go hand in hand.

A gentle invitation to you

What would it look like to stop following the rhythm that exhausts you
And start honoring the one your body remembers?

What if Sunday wasn’t just a day to show up for others,
But a day to return to yourself?

What if sacred didn’t have to mean doing?
What if it could mean being?

A nap as devotion.
Stillness as prayer.
Breath as your offering.

Not instead of what you believe,
but in addition to what you need.

As Sunday merges into evening,
my hope is that every Black woman finds a way to carry the feeling of an Easy Sunday Morning—
not just once a week,
but in the everyday moments that call her home to herself.

Word of Wisdom
Rest isn’t just recovery.
It’s a soft rebellion.
A return to what’s real.

Reflection Question
Where have you been following rhythms that don’t feel like your own?
What would it look like to pause and listen for a new one?

Somatic Cue
Find a comfortable seat or lie down.
Place one hand on your belly, one on your chest.
Inhale for four.
Exhale for six.
Let your body settle into the breath.
Then whisper softly,
“I give myself back to the rhythm of rest.”

This work is sustained by the community. If this spoke to your spirit, I welcome your support.🫶🏾