Today, rest has become a strange thing: we long for it, then feel guilty the moment we get close to it. Relaxation used to be a sign of wellness or balance, but now it often behaves like a petty crime that needs justification: "tired," "accomplished," "deserved." It's as if rest becomes legitimate only if it is preceded by a bill.It's as if rest is only legitimate if it is preceded by a bill of fatigue. This shift is not only happening at work, but within us: in the way we measure our worth, in the voice that whispers to us that to stop is to retreat, that to stand still is to miss an opportunity.
The clearest angle to understand this guilt is that rest is no longer a neutral space, but a competitor in the marketplace of attention and production. We live in a culture that sanctifies busyness: fullness is proof of seriousness, exhaustion is proof of sincerity, and "pressure" has become a shortened resume. When identity becomes tied to achievement, rest becomes a threat to the self: if I stop, who am I? This is why relaxation demands justification: not because the body does not need it, but because the social meaning we have built around it has become suspect.
This is not a simple choice, but a psychological compromise. The phone gives us a form of "productive rest": we don't work at all, but we don't stop either. We surf to relieve tension, while at the same time maintaining a sense of being "present" and "up to date".Surfing becomes a mask of comfort: comfort without confession, a break that does not require facing guilt. The irony is that this mask steals the essence of comfort: the nervous system does not actually slow down, the mind does not regain its slowness, but moves from the pressure of tasks to the pressure of comparisons and notifications.
There is no longer a door to close and leave the "profession", no time to end and start the "self". The phone in the pocket means that work can happen at any moment, and life itself can turn into a project: improvement, development, reading, follow-up, fitness, skills.Even relaxation has been dressed up as accomplishment: a meditation app that counts minutes, a clock that measures sleep, a list of "must-see" movies. It's as if we don't rest unless we can prove that we are resting "properly".
When we are silent, the questions we are running away from are revealed: Am I satisfied? What am I afraid of? Why do I feel late? Busyness obscures anxiety, but rest pulls back the curtain. This is why the mind may prefer the noise of the phone to the quiet of the bed, because the noise offers an immediate escape from facing oneself. The guilt here is not only moral, but defensive: rest opens a door behind which we do not know what we will see.
The way out is not to hate the phone, but to redefine rest: it is not a reward after suffering, but a part of managing life. When we need to justify relaxation, it means that we live under one standard: value=production. If we reclaim our right to pause without apology, we have broken the oldest trick in the age of speed: that man does not deserve tranquility unless it exhausts him.
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