By Susan Mackay

When July comes round with longer days and the gentle ping of out-of-office replies, it offers us an enticing invitation – like a handwritten note slipped under the door:

Come, pause awhile.

But for many of us who think in tangents, colours and sparks, rest doesn’t come easily. Sometimes, it feels like being asked to sit still when your thoughts are still doing cartwheels.

What do we do without the deadlines, the structure, the steady hum of urgency? For some of us, unstructured time isn’t relaxing – it’s unfamiliar terrain, full of hidden traps and unnerving quiet.

But what if summer isn’t just about taking respite from the storm? What if it holds the promise of setting a different rhythm – creating a space that can hold you, not just in stillness, but in motion too?”

Rest as Resistance (and Rebellion)

In a world that prizes “being busy”, rest is often dismissed as lazy, weak or self-indulgent. But for those of us navigating invisible challenges of masking, sensory overload, or tireless mental activity, rest isn’t a luxury. It’s how we stitch ourselves back together.

Rest is not doing nothing. It’s doing something else. It’s sipping tea slowly. It’s staring at shapes in the clouds without feeling guilty. It’s letting your nervous system shuffle out of tight shoes and breathe.

Whether it’s a lie-in that lingers, a playlist that soothes, or a forest path that sparks all kinds of ideas and possibilities – rest is the magical spell that brings us back to ourselves.

Free Time as Fertile Time

Science tells us our most brilliant, bananas, butterfly-winged ideas often emerge when the brain is “off duty” – in the dreamy wanderings of the “default mode network.” (Yes, even science believes in daydreaming!)

So this summer, instead of trying to fill every blank space, try asking:

• What might delight me today?
• What am I curious about that has nothing to do with being useful?
• What would I try if I wasn’t worried about getting it “right”?

Play doesn’t have to be loud. It can be a quiet hum in your hands – modelling clay, rearranging colourful bricks, planting lavender, doodling a unicorn in the margins.

The Art of Possibility Thinking

Burnout has shrunk our world into a ‘to-do’ list. Possibility thinking helps stretch it back out again – like unfolding a map you didn’t know had so many secret trails.

Summer is the perfect season to learn the art of this gentle time-stretching. Without the relentless pressure of the daily grind, we can start asking ourselves big, mischievous questions:

• What if I took off my mask and let the real me dance through the day?
• What if my sensory world didn’t need to shrink, but got to paint the room in colours that feel just right?
• What if I stopped squeezing myself into “normal” and let my uniqueness sprawl, sparkle, and take up space?

This isn’t fantasy. It’s future-shaping. Possibility thinking isn’t naïve – it’s necessary. Especially for those of us who’ve always been told our unique type of wiring was wrong.

Build Your Possibility Practice

You don’t need a mountain retreat or a meditation app with wind chimes (though you can have those too). You just need a bit of space to play with the edges of your mind.

Try this:

• Journal PromptL If I had nothing to prove this week, what would I do
• Possibility Day: Award yourself a whole day without plans. Let wonder – and wander – be your GPS.
• Creative Play: Build. Bake. Make a mood board. Build a pillow fort. Paint your thoughts. Just revel in being creative.
• Connection: Share your dreams with a fellow mind wanderer. Possibility loves company.

Re-entry: Don’t Reset – Reroute

As summer folds up her picnic blanket and September calls you back indoors, there’s no need to “snap back” to who you were before. Maybe this time, you can carry some of summer with you.

A new rhythm. A boundary held. A softness defended.

Burnout taught me the cost of trying to be someone I’m not. Summer whispers what’s possible when I become who I am.

So here it is, just in case you need it:

This is your permission slip.

So, what will your summer of possibility look like?

Maybe it’s scribbling down your dreams into a notebook. Skipping an unproductive meeting in favour of a meandering walk. Having a brave conversation about what you need to thrive.

Share your “possibility moments” with someone who gets it. Or write them just for yourself. Tag a tree, a journal page, a friend, or even me. Because possibility multiplies when we say it out loud.

And if you need a nudge, here’s your first prompt:

What could I allow myself to become this summer, if I stopped waiting for permission?

Here’s to the pauses that restore us. The play that revives us. And the quiet rebellions that let us start living – on our own terms