It’s Friday evening. The sun is dipping low, painting the London sky: or whatever patch of sky you’re currently under: in shades of bruised purple and burnt orange. Somewhere in the background, the hum of the week is trying to lure me back in. There are emails I didn’t answer, a pile of laundry that has staged a small coup in the corner of my bedroom, and a to-do list that looks more like a manifesto of impossible expectations.
Usually, this is the part where I’d pour a third cup of tea and try to "power through." I’d tell myself that if I could just clear those last three tasks, I could earn my rest.
But here’s the thing I’ve learned the hard way: Rest isn’t a reward for a job well done. It’s the fuel that makes the job possible. It’s the foundation. And for those of us navigating life's storms: whether that’s chronic illness, the weight of being the "strong one," or just the general chaos of existing: we need more than a nap. We need a sacred pause.
Welcome to my Friday ritual: The Sunset Sabbath.
I used to think "Sabbath" was just for the religious or the retired. I didn’t think it had space for a woman in a wheelchair, running a business, raising a family, and trying to keep her own soul intact. But I realized that without a intentional stop, I wasn’t actually living; I was just reacting.
I started taking what I call a "rooted approach" to my weekends. Instead of collapsing into Saturday night, I began treating Friday sunset as a threshold. It’s a border crossing. On one side is the country of "Doing": where my worth is measured by my output. On the other side is the country of "Being": where I am enough just because I breathe.
Mastering the sacred pause isn't about being perfect. It’s about being present. It’s about deciding that for the next 24 hours (or even just the next few hours), the world can spin without my help. Trust me, it’s a bit of an ego bruise to realize the universe doesn’t actually need your constant supervision, but it’s also the most liberating feeling in the world.
Let’s be real for a second. For many of us, especially as Black women, stillness feels dangerous. We’ve been conditioned to believe that if we stop moving, we’ll be overtaken. We’ve been told our value lies in our resilience, our strength, and our ability to carry everyone else’s baggage.
When I first started practicing the Sunset Sabbath, I felt guilty. I felt like I was failing someone. But then I realized: Rest is resistance.
Choosing to be still in a world that demands your labor is a radical act of self-love. It’s saying, "I am not a machine. I am a human being with a soul that needs tending." When I sit in the quiet, I’m not just resting my body; I’m reclaiming my identity. I’m reminding myself that I am more than my productivity.
You can’t just stop on a dime. Your brain needs a signal. For me, it’s all about the senses. As the sun starts to set, I begin my "closing ceremony."
This ritual tells my nervous system: We are safe. The work is done. You can let go now.
Once the external noise is dialed down, the internal noise usually gets louder. Have you noticed that? The moment you sit still, every worry you suppressed during the week decides to have a party in your head.
This is where journaling becomes my lifeline. I don’t just "think" about my stress; I externalize it. I use my Still Rising guided journal. It was designed specifically for these "middle of the storm" moments.
I ask myself: What am I carrying that isn't mine to carry?
I write it down. I give it a name. I put it on the page so I don't have to carry it in my heart. There is something incredibly healing about seeing your "invisible battles" written out in black and white. It makes them manageable. It reminds me that while the storm is real, so is my ability to rise within it.
After I’ve emptied the heavy stuff, I want to fill the space with something light. If Still Rising is about surviving the storm, my Becoming Light journal is about what happens when the clouds clear.
During my Sunset Sabbath, I spend a few minutes dreaming. Not "goal-setting" (save that for Monday morning), but soul-dreaming. I reflect on who I am becoming. What parts of myself are starting to bloom? Where am I finding joy?
This isn't about being "better"; it's about being more authentic. It’s about gentle transformation. I might look at the Becoming Light PDF if I want a quick prompt, or just sit with the physical book and its beautiful textures. The goal is to move from a state of "Doing" to a state of "Evolving."
Here is a secret: You don’t have to be "productive" at resting. You don't have to read a self-help book, do a 10-step skincare routine, or meditate for an hour.
Sometimes, the most sacred thing you can do during your Sabbath is to stare at a wall. Or watch the way the light moves across the floor. Or eat a piece of fruit and actually taste it.
We are so used to multitasking that we’ve forgotten how to do one thing at a time. The Sunset Sabbath is a practice in mono-tasking. It’s about the "sacred pause" between the notes of your life.
The beauty of starting on Friday at sunset is that it sets the tone for the entire weekend. When I wake up on Saturday, I don't reach for my phone. I reach for my tea. I spend the day in what I call "The Gentle Resolve": a state of mind where I am committed to my peace above all else.
I might look through our collection of journals to find a new space for my thoughts, or I might just sit in the garden and listen to the birds. The point is that I am here. I am present. I am not a footnote in my own life.
As you move into this evening, I want to offer you a small blessing, rooted in the belief that your transformation begins the moment you give yourself permission to stop.
May the setting sun take with it the weight of your "shoulds."
May the rising moon reflect back to you the beauty of your "is."
May you find, in the quiet of this night, that you are held, you are loved, and you are already enough.
If you’re looking for a way to start your own Sunset Sabbath, I invite you to explore the tools we’ve created at Chiedza Innovations. Whether it’s a physical journal to hold your heaviest thoughts or a digital download for instant reflection, these resources are here to be the catalyst for your own "still rising."
Take the pause. You’ve earned it: not because of what you did this week, but simply because you are you.
With love and light,
Penny (on behalf of the Chiedza team)
