Tea, Witchcraft, and the Audacity of Rest

Here’s the sad truth: rest and women have been a cursed pairing for centuries.

Witches weren’t only burned for casting spells, they were punished for the sheer audacity of resting together under the moon. Victorian women fainted because corsets literally stole their breath, only to be dismissed as “delicate.” And then came the cherry on top: the invention of housewife’s guilt - as if bleeding knuckles from scrubbing floors, all while rocking curlers and a painted-on smile, was something to aspire to.

So yes. Choosing rest today is an act of rebellion. A spell we cast for ourselves. A middle finger to a system that thrives on our burnout.

After all, rest is feminist.

Rest is survival.

Rest is power dressed in pyjamas.

Maybe you’re like me, grabbing rest in messy little scraps wherever you can. A lukewarm cup of tea in bed. A midnight scroll when you should be sleeping. Sitting in the car just a few extra minutes, finishing that one song before stepping back into the chaos.

Or maybe rest feels completely out of reach, like some mythical creature you’ve heard whispers about but never actually met.

Here’s the beautiful secret about rest: it doesn’t always mean stillness. You don’t have to lie there like Sleeping Beauty waiting for some prince to finally kiss you awake. Rest can move. Rest can sway, stretch, wiggle, hum, and still feel deliciously nourishing.

So, with that in mind, here are five enchanting ways to weave mindful movement into your day as rest:

1. The Shoulder Drop

Breathe in. Exhale. Let your shoulders tumble down like you’re shrugging off centuries of expectations. Instant lightness spell.

2. The Cup-of-Tea Stretch

While the kettle boils, reach up high for the stars, sigh like a Shakespearean drama queen, then bend down and touch the ground (or however low you can get). Open your back, open your chest. Repeat until the kettle sings.

3. The Slow Walk

Wander like time doesn’t own you. Don’t rush bringing in the bins or collecting the mail. Breathe the air, count the birds, eavesdrop on the soundtrack of your street. And if you’re lucky like me, listen for Puffing Billy chugging along the line.

4. The Rebel Shake

Blast one song. Shake out everything heavy you’re carrying that isn’t yours. Become a wild thing in the lounge room. Extra points for hairbrush microphones and mortifying your kids. Two minutes. Pure magic.

5. The Bedtime Wiggle

Don’t just collapse into bed. Wiggle. Roll. Stretch. See if your toes can reach the edge of the mattress. Let your body remember it’s alive before it drifts into rest.

Movement as rest is exactly why I love women’s circles and my Mindful Moves classes. They are rest in disguise. Not the kind that demands silence, but the kind that lets you feel soft and held. Rest isn’t always lying down alone; sometimes it’s a room full of women breathing, moving, laughing, crying, and being unapologetically themselves.

And it’s a bit funny, isn’t it? A circle of women moving gently, sharing honestly, letting themselves be free suddenly feels radical. Almost suspicious. It unnerves the patriarchy because when women rest together, we remember our power.

And that’s why I call it rebellion.

So here’s my invitation: join me. In your own room, in your own body, right now.

Take a breath.

Drop your shoulders.

Roll your neck.

Stretch your arms to the sky and sigh.

Call it rest.

Call it magic.

Call it rebellion.

Because you don’t need to earn it. You don’t need permission.

You just need to claim it.

And that, dear one, is enough. ✨

Journal With Me

Since I didn’t get to run the class in person, I want to share the reflection questions we were going to explore through movement. Instead, let’s try them on paper and in your body. Notice what shifts as you write.

(Take a moment: close your eyes, roll your shoulders back, take a deep inhale, and exhale with a long sigh. Let your body arrive.)

✨ When I picture myself leaving the dishes in the sink and putting my feet up instead, what happens in my body?

(Unclench your jaw, soften your shoulders, wiggle your toes. Notice the sensations. Big sigh if it feels right.)

✨ When I imagine asking for help (with the kids, the house, the endless list), what sensations rise?

(Place a hand on your chest or belly. Breathe into the tight spots. Let your breath whisper, “it’s okay.”)

✨ If I handed over just one task I usually martyr myself into doing, how would my body respond? Relief? Panic? Both at once?

(Roll your neck slowly, shrug your shoulders, shake your hands out. Feel the body’s micro-responses.)

✨ If I delegate, what story does that tell me about me? Does it make me feel “weak,” “lazy,” “selfish”?

Am I scared to delegate? And if so, why?

(Place your hand over your heart. Take a long, slow exhale. Ask yourself gently: “whose voice is this story really from?”)

✨ Do I carry the pressure to “do it all” in my own muscles, or can I trace it back to someone else’s voice, expectation, or conditioning? Where does that pressure actually belong?

(Stretch your arms overhead like reaching for freedom. Let the tension melt down your arms and back.)

✨ What would it feel like in my body, even just for an hour to choose rest instead of martyrdom? To let go of the list, let someone else hold it, and actually soften?

(Place your hands on your lap, close your eyes, and imagine the softness spreading from your chest down to your feet. Let your body taste rest.)

Think of this as the class-that-wasn’t: the notes your body’s been waiting to give you.

(End with a deep sigh, roll your shoulders back, wiggle your fingers and toes and let yourself sit in the small rebellion of this one hour of self-care.)