Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Begin.
This is my 13th article for The Black Lens, and with it, I am choosing to pause. Over the last year, I’ve written about rest, connection, community, and what it means to come home to ourselves. Writing here has been both a practice and a gift. An act of reflection and alchemization that I hope has met you somewhere in your own journey. To those who have read, shared, or carried even a single phrase with you: thank you. Your quiet companionship has meant more than I can say.
As I write this final piece, the state of the world feels heavy. Genocides continue. Violence and hatred grow from the root of fear. Political climates demand urgency and division. Many of us wake each morning to news that chips away at our sense of safety and belonging. It is easy, in such a world, to feel helpless, hardened, or to believe that the only way through is to keep pushing, producing, surviving.
And yet, I believe, I have to believe, that in these moments,living in alignment with our truest selves is an ultimate form of resistance. That finding harmony between rest and action, between softness and strength, is not a luxury but a necessity. That choosing to remain tender with ourselves and with others is, in fact, our greatest rebellion in a world that profits from our numbness, mistrust, and fragmentation.
Rest has been distorted into privilege, something only “earned” once productivity has been proven. Stillness is treated as indulgence. But if we look to the Earth, to the trees, the soil, the seasons, we remember: rest was always meant to be our birthright. Winter comes without apology. The land slows down. Renewal is not questioned; it is trusted. Our bodies, too, were designed for rhythm, for cycles of expansion and contraction, effort and ease.
And yet, in our current systems, the opportunity to rest safely has been coerced into privilege. For too many, the urgency of survival leaves no room to pause. The right to soften, to feel safe in stillness, has been stripped away by oppression, racism, poverty, and violence. If we find ourselves among those with the possibility to rest, even briefly, even imperfectly, can we receive it fully, as the radical birthright it was always meant to be? And can we, in our wake, our rejuvenation, our clarity, fight for a world where everyone has access to that same safety, that same softness?
My deepest prayer is that we continue to rebuild a culture of belonging where rest is reclaimed as an expectation of wholeness, where softness is not mistaken for weakness, and where connection triumphs over fear.
For me, this is a pause in writing here, a step back to focus on the places where I can live this work in closer conversation and connection. But before I go, I want to leave you with these parting wishes:
In a world that demands we go fast, may you go slow.
In a world that thrives on disconnection, may you nurture community and connection where you can.
In a world that roots itself in fear, may you return again and again to love.
In a world that convinces us we always need more to be enough, may you witness that you are already whole, you are already home.
May you breathe deeply, love fiercely, and soften bravely. May you find refuge in your own body, your own communities, and this Earth that longs for our harmony.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Begin.
Jasmine Linane-Booey of Kazuko Wellness is a Well-being Educator and Collective Harmony Facilitator weaving yoga, reiki, breathwork and earth-rooted practices. Her work centers embodiment, justice and collective care. Contact: hello@kazukowellness.com | www.kazukowellness.com