05/17/2026
📸 Reclining Buddha at Pidurangala Peak, Sri Lanka
“Rest is not a luxury. It is fuel. It is the source of all things.” —Jeff Foster
Dear Sangha,
I’m exhausted. Spent. Kaput. Dunzo.
Sorry, I don’t mean to complain, but I get the sense I’m not alone in feeling this way, like we’re getting it from all angles at all times these days: a constant bombardment of too much too much. No rest for the weary, I guess.
Or is that what our practice is—a space of rest? Not an escape, exactly, but a kind of refuge. A place to come home to. The relative sanity of Sangha. The welcome truth of Dharma. The reassuring peace and comfort of the Buddha that resides in us all. And zazen, that good old gate of ease and joy, and the way that through it, we can rest for a while in the sweet darkness of the moment—the great underbelly of life, Tao, shadowed and refreshing and cool.
Sometimes when I sit at home, I let out a hefty sigh when I first settle in—much the way one might upon stretching out on a couch after a long day—a sound of deep satisfaction and relaxation. Or maybe it’s like opening the door to home after a long trip overseas. You drop your bags to the floor, release the weight of them from your shoulders. Your family is there to greet you, the dogs—familiar and full of love. This is where you belong. You can let it all go. You can be yourself. You can rest your weary bones, your tired, knotted up mind.
We’re so lucky to have this in our lives: this Zendo, this practice, each other. So many people out there don’t have anything like this, nowhere they can really turn, not in the same kind of way. (When “Work for Dharma Day” happens this month on May 11, honor this truth however you’re able.)
And like I said, this is not escape. “Real life” isn’t going anywhere, after all—and neither are all your worries. But it’s OK to set all that aside for a moment—indeed, if you are to fully engage with this life of yours, it’s essential. Rest, after all, is what allows us, finally, to awaken.
With love and peace,
Taylor Plimpton
Editor