The Art of Rest

When was the last time you truly rested—not just slept, but felt a deep, guilt-free pause from life’s noise? In The Art of Rest, Claudia Hammond challenges the modern obsession with busyness and productivity, arguing that real progress requires periods of deliberate rest. Drawing on psychology, neuroscience, and a massive international survey of 18,000 people known as The Rest Test, Hammond contends that rest is not laziness, but rather an essential human rhythm: a balance between effort and ease, doing and not doing, that keeps our minds and bodies healthy.

We live in what Hammond calls the age of the rest deficit. In an economy that prizes hustle culture, people often wear exhaustion as a badge of honor. We check email at midnight, answer messages during lunch breaks, and feel vaguely guilty if we take an afternoon off. Hammond’s mission is to reframe rest—from something self-indulgent to a vital form of self-care, creativity, and social well-being. Her argument builds on wisdom from ancient philosophers like Socrates (“beware the barrenness of a busy life”) and aligns with modern science proving that rest improves decision-making, resilience, and even longevity.

Redefining Rest: Beyond Sleep and Stillness

Hammond distinguishes rest from sleep. Sleep is passive recovery; rest is active rejuvenation while awake. You might rest by walking through nature, reading, listening to music, or even sitting and doing ‘nothing in particular.’ Rest can involve gentle physical movement or quiet mental activity—it’s about psychological release, not total inactivity. The book’s research showed that many people confuse rest solely with stopping. Yet, paradoxically, too much enforced inaction—like unemployment or illness—can be restless rather than restful. We rest best after purposeful exertion.

The Rest Test: What 18,000 People Revealed

Through the global Rest Test survey, Hammond uncovered a striking reality: two-thirds of people say they don’t get enough rest. Yet the activities they found most restful—reading, spending time in nature, walking, listening to music, being alone, and doing nothing—are all experiences of peaceful engagement rather than mere withdrawal. Intriguingly, the top five restful activities were almost all solitary. Against cultural assumptions that connection equals happiness, Hammond’s data shows that rest often involves escape from social obligations. This doesn’t mean isolation—it means reclaiming mental space to reflect, dream, and recover.

Rest as Self-Care, Not Selfishness

Hammond aligns the concept of rest with the current self-care movement, but in a deeper sense. She argues that true self-care isn’t about spa days or luxury retreats—it’s about creating time to stop and replenish. Chronic fatigue is linked to errors in judgment, depression, memory loss, and accidents. For societies to function well, rest must be viewed as socially valuable, not merely personal. In her view, industries and governments should design workplaces and education systems that integrate pauses, just as they accommodate sleep or nutrition. Even schoolchildren suffer from reduced break times, leading to poorer concentration—a microcosm of our culture’s obsession with constant doing.

The Philosophy of Balance

Throughout the book, Hammond returns to a central metaphor: the swinging hammock. Rest is not static; it’s rhythmic. We thrive when we oscillate between activity and stillness. This echoes themes from psychology’s recovery theory (that mental and physical performance peak through cycles of stress and recovery) and from Zen philosophy’s “effortless effort.” When the pendulum stops swinging, burnout or apathy sets in. Rest, she concludes, is the counterpoint that gives work its meaning.

Why Rest Matters for Modern Life

At heart, The Art of Rest is a call for cultural change. Hammond emphasizes that many of us are resting more than we think, but feeling less rested than ever—largely because of constant interruptions from technology, guilt about leisure, and blurred work-life boundaries. Her diagnosis? Modern restlessness is psychological, not logistical. We must reclaim rest as a source of creativity, clarity, and compassion. Throughout the book, Hammond explores the ten activities people rank as most restful—from mindfulness and baths to daydreaming and walking—unpacking each in turn through science, storytelling, and practical advice. She closes by offering a “prescription for rest,” encouraging readers to find their personal balance and give themselves permission to pause, guilt-free. In her world, resting well isn’t time lost—it’s life regained.

Claudia Hammond begins her exploration of rest with the concept of the rest deficit. Most people feel they don’t get enough rest, regardless of how many hours they actually manage to carve out for leisure. This is because modern culture has turned busyness into a badge of honor. In earlier eras, leisure was associated with privilege and status; today, work—and the ability to handle overwhelming schedules—is what signals success. As sociologist Jonathan Gershuny describes it, we wear our exhaustion like jewelry, proof that we are in demand and important.

In this social reversal, rest has become suspect. Doing nothing feels lazy, and even moments of stillness are hijacked by smartphone notifications and guilt. Hammond points out that this epidemic of busyness isn’t limited by geography—her Rest Test surveyed people in 135 countries and found the same pattern everywhere: endless working hours, constant connectivity, and fatigue being seen as a virtue. Over half a million people in the UK alone experience work-related stress; many more suffer from burnout, fatigue, and anxiety that could be alleviated simply through more deliberate rest.

The Science of Fatigue

Fatigue isn’t a trivial problem. Hammond notes its real consequences—memory lapses, reduced empathy, poor concentration, and accidents. She cites studies linking tiredness to increased workplace injuries, driving fatalities, and hospital errors. The irony is that while our technologies were designed to make life easier, they’ve created an “always-on culture” that denies us any true respite. Even when we rest, we’re available—one ping, one alert, one email away from being pulled back into the churn.

Busyness as Status

Hammond revisits the economic theory of Thorstein Veblen’s “leisure class.” Veblen suggested that the rich once proved their status by conspicuous leisure—demonstrating that they didn’t need to work. The modern equivalent, Hammond argues, is conspicuous busyness. Research by Columbia Business School’s Silvia Bellezza demonstrated that people perceive busy individuals as higher-status, more capable, and more important. In American culture especially, constant work signals ambition. In Italy, however, experiments showed the opposite: people still equate leisure with wealth and success. Hammond quips that this gives her one more reason to love Italy.

Rest as Cultural Resistance

Ultimately, Hammond calls for rest as resistance. Taking deliberate breaks and refusing the cult of busyness is not laziness—it’s courage. She cites examples like the Wellcome Trust’s experiment with a four-day work week, the rise of self-care movements, and the increasing data linking rest to productivity. In her view, the rest deficit is more than a health problem; it’s a cultural one. To combat it, society needs to rethink what “being in demand” means and reembrace the natural rhythms of effort and recovery—the swing of that hammock she introduces at the start. Rest isn’t weakness; it’s strength recharged.

Most of us fear loneliness and crave connection, but Hammond shows that solitude—chosen time alone—is one of the world’s most restorative experiences. In her survey, the top five restful activities were all solitary: reading, spending time in nature, walking, listening to music, and simply sitting in silence. Even extroverts said they felt more rested when they were alone. This doesn’t contradict our social nature; rather, it highlights an emotional truth: rest often requires space from others.

Loneliness vs. Solitude

Hammond carefully separates solitude from loneliness. Loneliness is an involuntary state that damages both mental and physical health—it’s linked to higher risks of heart disease, stroke, and depression. Solitude, however, is voluntary and beneficial; it allows reflection, emotional regulation, and creativity. The balance lies in choosing when and how to be alone. She cites psychologist Donald Winnicott’s description of solitude as “a precious possession”—the ability to be content in one’s own company without fear or self-doubt.

Finding the Goldilocks Zone

The key is not how much time you spend alone, but how much you feel in control. Studies with adolescents show that those who spend about 25–45% of their time alone report the most balanced moods. Too little solitude leaves people overstimulated; too much becomes isolating. Adults, too, subconsciously gravitate toward this proportion in daily life—roughly one-third of waking hours alone. This rhythm between connection and apartness is what keeps our minds stable.

Solitude as Self-Discovery

Hammond highlights that we develop our sense of self in these quiet moments. Philosophers like Rousseau and Nietzsche saw walking alone as essential to thought. Modern leaders, she adds, could benefit from solitude to make wiser decisions—Harold Macmillan famously read Jane Austen daily to maintain reflective calm. Time alone helps us detach from roles and responsibilities and rediscover intrinsic identity without performance. In solitude, you rest not because you stop thinking, but because you think freely without judgment.

From Fear of Loners to the Beauty of Solitude

Society has long pathologized solitude—labeling loners as antisocial or dangerous. Hammond traces this stigma from ancient monks who feared “fleshly lust” in isolation to modern stereotypes of reclusive criminals. Yet she insists solitude is a vital form of psychological hygiene, not a failing. The true art lies in distinguishing lonely isolation from restorative alone time. When solitude is voluntary and accompanied by secure relationships, it becomes a peaceful retreat—a pause in which the soul, finally, can rest.

It surprised Hammond that in her global survey, reading ranked as the most restful activity on earth. More than 58% of respondents chose it—not for entertainment, but because it allowed their minds to slow down and wander safely. Reading combines immersion with autonomy; it absorbs attention while leaving room for imagination. Unlike watching TV, which demands passive engagement, reading lets you shift pace, pause, and co-create the world with the author.

The Science of Reading and Relaxation

Psychologist Victor Nell’s experiments in the 1980s found that habitual readers entered physiological states akin to meditation—lower heart rate, slower breathing, and mild arousal of cognitive centers. Reading was paradoxically both activating and calming. This duality explains why it’s restful: it stimulates the imagination while reducing stress. Comparisons with tai chi, yoga, and humor found reading equally effective at lowering cortisol levels.

Reading as Mind Wandering

Far from being passive, reading encourages mind wandering. We drift into thoughts about characters, past experiences, or possible futures, then return to the text. Neuroscience shows that reading engages the same “default mode network” active during daydreaming—regions tied to empathy, memory, and creativity. Authors invite us to step out of our own narratives and, paradoxically, rediscover ourselves. This mental dance is restful because it is free-flowing yet focused.

Escaping Without Escaping

Reading is restorative partly because it lets you escape your problems without denial. Hammond quotes novelist Rose Tremain, who said fiction offers “a tiny contribution to mental health” because it gives readers half an hour of feeling “all right.” Reading fiction and memoir allows emotional processing at a safe distance. Even darker or sadder stories can comfort by externalizing inner struggles—a process known as literary catharsis.

The Longevity Effect

A study Hammond cites reveals that readers live, on average, almost two years longer than non-readers, even when adjusted for income and education. Perhaps because reading enhances empathy, cognitive flexibility, and emotional regulation—all factors linked to health. More profoundly, reading reminds us of our shared humanity. Through books, we find companionship without obligation—a silent conversation that calms the mind and lengthens the spirit’s lifespan. In Hammond’s words, “What could be more restful than reading a book about rest?”

We long to do nothing—and yet we resist it. Hammond notes that ‘doing nothing’ ranked fifth on the Rest Test, suggesting both desire and unease. From religious condemnations of sloth to modern productivity guilt, idleness remains morally suspect. But she argues that conscious idleness—pausing without purpose—is one of life’s lost arts. Doing nothing isn’t the absence of meaning; it’s space for meaning to arise.

The Moral Weight of Idleness

From Thomas Aquinas, who labeled sloth a deadly sin, to Hippocrates warning that “idleness drags towards evil,” Western thought has condemned stillness. Today we simply call it laziness. Hammond positions herself among a new school of thinkers—including historian Mike Greaney—who urge intentional laziness as rebellion against the “attention economy.” To pause amid constant stimulation is to reclaim your humanity from algorithms and expectations.

Rest in Micro-Doses

Doing nothing doesn’t have to mean marathons of inactivity. Even micro-breaks—ten-second pauses or two-minute window gazes—improve mood and productivity. Hammond cites studies showing that energy levels remain higher an hour after such moments than before. South Korean office workers who took micro-breaks—stretching, sipping tea, or staring outdoors—reported better focus and cheer. In Germany, researchers found that people should break mid-task rather than at completion for maximum restoration.

The Paradox of Rest

Hammond warns that enforced rest—illness, unemployment, confinement—rarely feels restful. True rest involves choice and rhythm. Think of Bartleby, Melville’s scrivener who “would prefer not to.” His passive refusal exposes the labor in idleness itself. Authentic ‘doing nothing’ demands discipline. As philosopher Pascal noted, “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” The ancient paradox persists: inactivity is hard work.

Creative Boredom

The reward for mastering nothingness is creativity. Studies by psychologist Sandi Mann show boredom boosts divergent thinking—the ability to imagine multiple solutions. In experiments, participants copying phonebook numbers invented more varied uses for objects afterward. Likewise, artist Leonardo da Vinci advised staring at walls to prompt visions—a medieval metaphor for modern breakthroughs. Hammonds calls boredom the gateway to imagination: “If all you do is rest, you won’t feel rested. But after effort, rest restores.” Doing nothing is not waste—it’s incubation.

Mindfulness, ranked tenth in the Rest Test, is paradoxical: it’s hard work that teaches effortlessness. Hammond presents it as structured rest—a disciplined practice of noticing. Derived from Jon Kabat-Zinn’s mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR) program, it trains you to focus on present sensations and let thoughts pass without judgment. The aim isn’t to empty the mind, but to create peace through awareness.

Learning to Pause

Hammond recounts practicing mindfulness herself—including the famous raisin exercise, which forces you to examine every texture, smell, and taste of a single raisin for five minutes. At first it feels absurdly slow, but that intentional slowness recalibrates attention. You train yourself to notice, to breathe, to stop multitasking. Over time, the body’s stress responses—heart rate and amygdala activation—quiet.

Evidence and Limits

Thousands of studies examine mindfulness, but Hammond cautions against hype. Meta-analyses show that structured courses—weekly sessions over eight weeks—can cut depression relapse rates in half for those with chronic episodes, but casual dabbling yields less. Researchers like David Creswell and Richard Davidson find that sustained mindfulness enhances emotion regulation, memory, and empathy. Yet it’s not a cure-all. For some, the formality is stressful rather than soothing.

Everyday Mindfulness

The most practical message Hammond offers is that mindfulness begins with small awareness: noticing breath, feeling your feet on the pavement, or practicing “square breathing” during anxiety. Even waiting on hold or sitting in traffic can become micro-meditations. She reminds us that awareness itself is restful because it interrupts automatic worry. As Ellen Langer puts it, “The simple act of noticing things improves well-being.”

The Philosophy of Non-Doing

Mindfulness teaches what Hammond calls peaceful discipline: working hard to do nothing. It’s less about mastering concentration and more about reclaiming presence from distraction. Whether through meditation, movement, or mindful walking, the point isn’t spiritual transcendence—it’s psychological recovery. In a world obsessed with constant output, mindfulness restores the art of noticing and reminds you that being aware is sometimes the only kind of resting you need.

In her final chapter, Hammond turns theory into action. If rest is medicine, she offers practical prescriptions for better rest. The healthiest people in her survey rested between five and six hours per day—not necessarily by lying down, but through activities that restore rather than drain. Her advice echoes psychologists like Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (Flow) and Oliver Burkeman (Four Thousand Weeks): the goal isn’t more leisure, but meaningful rest integrated into everyday life.

1. Count Your Rest

Just as you track sleep, measure your rest. Reflect daily on whether you paused, reflected, and felt recharged. Surveys show that many already rest more than they realize through small pleasures—gardening, reading, music. Awareness turns casual downtime into conscious nourishment.

2. Reframe Guilt

Rest must be guilt-free. Hammond urges readers to reject busyness as virtue and treat rest as ethical self-maintenance. Giving yourself permission to stop is not indulgent—it’s preventive care. She cites her own shift of mindset: feeling guilty about fifteen minutes gardening until she reframed it as a mental health prescription.

3. Schedule Breaks and Embrace Micro-Moments

Plan rest like appointments. Put “pause” in your calendar. Even two-minute breaks—a window stare, stretch, or cup of tea—replenish attention. Studies show that breaks mid-task enhance performance more than waiting until completion.

4. Customize Your Rest Box

Borrowing from mental health care, Hammond proposes creating a “box of rest”—physical or symbolic—filled with items that restore you: music playlists, books, seeds to plant, or knitting tools. Personalizing rest makes it tangible and repeatable.

5. Stop Fetishizing Productivity

The hardest step: letting rest be rest. Don’t turn it into another task to optimize. Hammond calls this avoiding “restaholism.” True rest flows from rhythm and balance, not perfect scheduling. “Sometimes you need a rest from rest,” she writes—an apt final paradox in a book that redefines doing nothing as doing something essential.

By prescribing rest with the same seriousness we give exercise or nutrition, Hammond completes her thesis: rest is not escape but engagement, a return to yourself. To rest is to remember you are human, not a machine.