Permission to Rage, Permission to Rest
Holding sacred space for the full range of our human experience
We live in a world that tries to steal our range.
That punishes our rage and pathologizes our rest.
That calls our fire “too much” and our stillness “not enough.”
But what if both are (w)holy?
What if neither needs an excuse?
What if your rage is not a liability… but a love letter to justice?
What if your rest is not laziness… but a legacy of reclaiming what was stolen?
Today, I’m giving you permission.
Not because you need it.
But because someone, somewhere, once told you that you didn’t have the right to be whole.
This is your invitation to reclaim your full humanity.
Rage Is a Sacred Teacher
Rage is not the opposite of peace.
It is the friction that births clarity.
It’s the grief that got tired of whispering.
When we talk about sacred rage, we are talking about that ancestral fire, the one that sees harm and says: not here, not again, not on my watch.
Rage is clarity.
Rage is refusal.
Rage is the alchemy that says I see the system for what it is… and I am not afraid to name it.
We live in a society that celebrates the Boston Tea Party as righteous fury but condemns Black grief in the streets as “unpeaceful protest.”
That honors the fire of empire, but shames the flame of liberation.
We were never meant to be silent.
And we were never meant to be still while being swallowed.
So rage, beloved.
Let it rise.
Let it tell the truth.
Let it teach you what needs protecting and what must be burned.
Rest Is the Revolution’s Rhythm
And when the fire dims, so must you.
Because rage without rest becomes rubble.
Because even the sun sets.
Because even the fiercest warriors must sleep.
Rest is not optional. It’s ancestral protocol.
It’s Harriet dreaming in the woods.
It’s Audre writing in the stillness.
It’s the land refusing to bloom in winter.
Rest is refusal in its most radical form.
Refusing to hustle for your humanity.
Refusing to perform in the face of pain.
Refusing to be consumed by a system that only values you when you’re producing.
You are allowed to lay it down.
You are allowed to disappear for a bit.
You are allowed to do absolutely nothing.
Not because you finished the to-do list.
But because you’re still breathing.
The Full Spectrum of Sacred Emotion
We are whole, complex beings, sacred containers of both heat and hush.
We carry protest in one hand and peace in the other.
We are rage and rest, both.
And the world has tried to teach us to pick a side.
But divine one, your humanity is not an either/or, it is a (w)holy both/and.
Rage is not the enemy of healing.
Rest is not the absence of passion.
They are not contradictions, they are complements.
And in a world that tells us to soften our anger and earn our rest, reclaiming both is revolutionary.
We Hold Both
Rage and rest are not opposites.
They are companions.
We rage so we can stay awake.
We rest so we can stay alive.
We grieve so we can stay soft.
We do all three so we can stay free.
Grief is the quiet sibling of rage —
the tremble beneath the roar,
the wound beneath the fire.
It’s the sacred echo of what mattered. Of what was lost. Of what still lives inside us.
Let no one tell you that your rage makes you monstrous.
Let no one convince you that your rest makes you weak.
Let no one shame your grief for not being graceful enough.
You are not here to be palatable.
You are not here to be productive.
You are here to be whole.
And wholeness has range.
It storms.
It weeps.
It sleeps.
And it rises again.
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