Rest Days & Snacking Cakes

What does it mean to keep the momentum going, pound the pavement at a rhythmic pace, refuse both urgency culture and detachment?

Rest Days (in a local coffee shop's outdoor garden) & Snacking Cakes (a wonderful French apple cake covered in sliced almonds and powdered sugar)

So came a cloudy, cold autumn Wednesday. I penciled in sacred creativity as my scheduled morning rest. Put on a PJ Harvey record and the apron my mother gifted me - I bake because punching people is frowned upon in glittering pink text. Poured myself a cup of hot black coffee with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top, just enough for scent intermingled with rising steam to fill the air around me. I mixed and kneaded sourdough pita. Plunged my hands into dish soaking water and lingered in the warmth for a moment. Sat down to write for a bit while the dough rested.

“I want to cook for people” was the first sentence that made it to the page. I thought of the people who raised me, how cooking was one of the purest expressions of love and care. This thought weaved alongside the reality that the government will soon force over a hundred thousand people in my county to hunger.¹

Interrupted. The tap sputters piss-yellow water. I can see the tone cycle between clear and a brownish-yellowish-tan against the porcelain background of plates in the sink. I guess the local water company is finally fixing the lead lines. I grab the emergency bottled water from the basement. There was no advance warning about poor water quality today. I remember a couple years back, a letter arrived in the mail asking me to supply a tap water sample for testing. I didn’t get any results back, but another letter assured me the water was safe and fine.

Originally, I began writing this post entirely about snacking cakes, a just because kind of cake you keep in the kitchen during the week, enjoying a small piece every day.² I excitedly told a number of people about this new-to-me concept, including my therapist and the cashier at Trader Joe’s. I’m drawn to the fact that there doesn’t need to be an occasion for a gorgeous homemade cake. Lemon cherry cake topped with homemade whipped cream, caramelized cinnamon sugar sourdough pull-apart bread, buttermilk banana breakfast cake, raspberry vanilla cake topped with powdered sugar and coconut cream, gooey apple cake made with thin slices of fall-fresh honeycrisp…

Interrupted. The tap gasps. Water’s completely out now.

The world is dizzying. I’ve spent hours in therapy discussing the vast Overwhelm of it all. My therapist assigned me the task of scheduling rest days for myself. Written in my planner. In pen ink. Full on commitment. It’s difficult to imagine what a rest day means in a world where billionaires exist, where people die of genocide and forced famine near and abroad, where politicians command us to ignore it all, where capitalism keeps us overwhelmed enough to not have the bandwidth to think about it. A world where discussions about taking a break often fall under the umbrella of complete disengagement, using the overwhelming state of the world as an excuse to shrink into oneself.

I was familiar with rest days in the context of workouts. I can easily remember times when rest days felt like slacking off. Under that was a fear - the realization that I’d have to find something else to distract my brain for the day. Few things were as effective as the full-body experience of weightlifting, so it was a huge leap of faith and trust to allow myself to actually pause. I’ve gone from dreading rest days to loving each break, reframing each pause as an honored space to soak up the benefits from all the work I’ve done building muscle, power, and skill.

“Sustainability: We pace ourselves, individually and collectively, to be sustained long-term. We value the teachings of our bodies and experiences, and use them as a critical guide and reference point to help us move away from urgency and into a deep, slow, transformative, unstoppable wave of justice and liberation.”

Sins Invalid, “10 Principles of Disability Justice”³

What would it look like to center sustainability, rather than driving ourselves to the poles of burnout and resentment, or of retreat into apathy and individualism?

What does it mean to keep the momentum going, pound the pavement at a rhythmic pace, refuse both urgency culture and detachment?

So comes a rainy Samhain Eve. I shred frozen butter, coat it with flour to prevent sticking. Slice green apples. Boil sugars. Build a lattice crust for a Silent Supper apple pie.⁴ I like this recipe because the liquid sugars pour over the lattice crust on their way to the apples, infusing sweetness in every bite. I take a break to wander in the cool October rain, ponder sustainability, and plan the transition into the darker months, my favorite time of the year.

<3 Lyss

1. https://www.wesa.fm/politics-government/2025-10-28/allegheny-county-snap-liheap-government-shutdown

2. I learned about Monday snacking cakes from Terrence Bakes, and I highly recommend checking out his recipes.

3. I’m highlighting the expanded definition of “Sustainability” from Sins Invalid’s “ASL 10 Principles of Disability Justice” video as opposed to the text version on their website. You can view the video here (“Sustainability” starts at 5:16).

4. Silent Supper is a ritual silent meal held on Samhain (Halloween) to honor departed loved ones. Samhain is noted as the time when the veil between the living and the dead is the thinnest - a good time for such activities. I cook lovely foods, light some candles, and set a plate for the ancestors, inviting them to come dine alongside me and my guests.