1. That strange guilt of doing nothing

Have you ever felt guilty for resting?
Especially when you’re not feeling well — physically tired, mentally foggy — and your body needs rest… but your mind won’t stop whispering:

“You should be doing something.”
“So much to do — and here you are lying down.”
“You’re wasting time.”

I’ve felt that guilt many times. It’s a quiet pressure that creeps in during moments of stillness — as if rest needs to be earned, or justified.

The other day, I was lying in bed, not feeling well. I wasn’t completely out of energy, but I didn’t have the strength or clarity to dive into any “real” work either. That’s when the guilt started bubbling up again. I was resting — but not resting in peace. My mind was buzzing with all the things I could or should be doing.

The night before, I had done something simple and new — I’d prepared a few batches of coffee dye in different shades. No big plan. Just a quiet urge to try something I hadn’t done before. I was curious to see how different coffee concentrations would look on paper.

It wasn’t for a big project. It wasn’t even for a specific outcome. Just a moment of play, experimentation, and gentle curiosity.

And in that foggy moment the next day, while lying in bed, I remembered them.

Even though I wasn’t feeling great, I gently got out of bed and sat down with the prepared coffee dye and some scrap papers.

I didn’t overthink it.
I didn’t try to make anything “good.”
I just let myself paint.

For about 10 to 15 minutes, I brushed the coffee dye across paper — watching the stains spread, noticing the different tones, letting each paper become its own little experiment.

It was slow, sensory, satisfying.
And it didn’t take much from me.

Then I laid them out to dry… and went back to bed.

While I rested on the bed, the papers quietly dried.
No noise. No drama.
Just slow, invisible transformation.

And when I woke up the next day — feeling a bit better, with more strength in my body — I went to check on the papers.

They had become beautiful.

Rich, warm tones. Earthy stains. Unexpected patterns. Each page was different. Each one a quiet collaboration between pigment, paper, time, and rest.

And that’s when something inside me softened.

What I realized that day is this:

We don’t always need to be in full energy or peak performance to create.
Sometimes, gentle curiosity is enough.
Sometimes, the most meaningful acts come from the in-between moments — the tired, foggy, not-quite-anything moments.

And also — rest isn’t wasted time.
Rest is where transformation happens, quietly.

The papers were becoming something new while I was lying down.
Maybe I was too.

If you’re feeling tired or unwell…
If your mind is pulling you into guilt for not doing enough…
If you miss creating, but don’t have the energy for anything big…

Try this:

• Do something small.
• Follow a little curiosity.
• Let it be imperfect.
• Let the rest of it unfold while you rest.

Even 10 minutes of gentle play — like brushing coffee onto paper — can be enough.

And when you come back to it, you might find something beautiful waiting for you.

Just like I did.