Each provides things that every person needs. So I believe we should not regard work and rest as opposites, but partners. Further, rest is a skill: with practice, you can learn to get better at it, and to get more out of it. The most restorative forms of rest are active, not passive. Moreover, studies show that good rest is not idleness. Recent work in neuroscience and psychology supports this approach to rest, showing how it allows us to recharge and stimulate our creativity, and gives us the mental space to cultivate new insights, and even helps us have longer, more sustainable creative lives. He himself was an innovator in the world of finance, a noted archaeologist (he coined the terms Neolithic and Palaeolithic, and used his wealth to save the ancient stone circle at Avebury), and a political reformer who led the campaign for bank holidays yet he found time to retreat to his family estate at Downe in Kent, where he spent time playing cricket, entertaining friends, and talking about natural history with his nextdoor neighbour Charles Darwin. In his book The Use of Life (1895), the Victorian author John Lubbock wrote: Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under the trees on a summers day, listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the blue sky, is by no means a waste of time. A deep dive into the lives of history’s most accomplished scientists, writers and even generals reveals that they laboured far fewer hours than do many people in today’s industrialised Western societies, and they crafted daily routines that balanced periods of intensive labour with downtime.

Overwork is bad for individuals and organisations: a long period without adequate rest burns people out and wrecks company productivity. Rest is as essential to a good life, and a productive career, as work. It’s just a negative space defined by the absence of work. Indeed, I’ve noticed many people hardly think of rest as its own thing. Rest, in contrast, is often treated as if it’s passive and pointless. Busyness is a badge of honour, even a sign of moral superiority. Popular books such as What You Do Is Who You Are (2019) by the venture capitalist Ben Horowitz carry the implication that being and doing are synonymous. Work is active and valuable: it’s where we prove our worth and create a legacy. Today, though, it’s become commonplace to think of work and rest as opposites. When George Washington retired from public life in 1759, he threw himself into building and maintaining Mount Vernon, an enterprise that, according to the historian William Abbot, ‘had on him a stronger and more enduring hold than did either war or politics’. Even for the less philosophically inclined, leisure provided the time and freedom to do what they loved. In The Sabbath (1951), Rabbi Abraham Heschel argued that, in Judaism, this day of rest was more than just a pause in the week, it was a ‘palace in time … made of soul, of joy and reticence’.

To Aristotle, work was drudgery and necessity only in leisure could we cultivate our mental and moral abilities, and become better people. But for most of human history, rest – time in which we can recharge the mental and physical batteries we use while labouring – was prized as a gift. Downtime is undervalued in today’s busy, always-on world.

To rest synonym