The Steel Horse You're Not Riding: Why Rest Isn't Weakness

Sometimes the most important move is standing still

I'm sitting at Alana's—the little café that's become my office—with my noise-canceling earbuds wedged in tight.

They're supposed to block out the world. Sometimes they're not noise-canceling enough. But that's a different problem for a different day.

Today, I hit shuffle on one of my YouTube playlists—the white noise mixes that help me concentrate while I read, study, write.

And then it hits.

That opening guitar riff.

​Bon Jovi. Wanted Dead or Alive.​

And I'm not at Alana's anymore.

I'm twenty-three years old again, tooling around LA on my first real bike—my "steel horse"—trying to figure out who I am and what I'm supposed to do with my life.

I'd just left Honolulu. Left everything familiar. Rode that bike like it was the only thing between me and failure.

The song stopped me cold.

Not just because of the memories—though there were plenty. But because of what I'd been doing when it came on.

I'd been grinding. Again.

Reading another book. Taking another note. Building another system. Trying to optimize another process.

Pushing. Always pushing.

And the song—this nearly 40-year-old anthem about cowboys and steel horses and roads that never end—reminded me of something I'd forgotten:

Sometimes you need to slow down long enough to actually enjoy the ride.

The Problem We Don't Name

You're always moving.

Always hustling. Always optimizing. Always "on."

You wake up with a plan. You execute the plan. You refine the plan for tomorrow.

Rest feels like regression.

Slowing down feels like falling behind.

Stillness feels like stagnation.

So you don't stop. You don't pause. You don't sit with the moment and let it breathe.

You treat rest like a luxury you'll indulge in "someday"—after you hit the goal, close the deal, finish the project, earn the rank.

But someday never comes.

Because there's always another goal. Another deal. Another project. Another rank.

The treadmill doesn't stop. You just keep running faster.

And here's what you don't realize until it's too late:

You're not getting anywhere. You're just getting exhausted.

The Real Cost of Always Going

Let me tell you what happens when you never slow down:

You stop noticing what matters

You miss the sunset because you're answering emails.

You miss the conversation because you're thinking about tomorrow's meeting.

You miss the song—the one that could transport you back to a moment when you felt alive—because you've got your head down, grinding.

Life becomes a checklist. And the things that aren't on the checklist? They disappear.

Your standards start slipping

When you're always moving, you stop seeing clearly.

You make decisions on autopilot. You cut corners you wouldn't normally cut. You say yes to things you should say no to because you're too tired to think it through.

Exhaustion doesn't make you sharper. It makes you sloppy.

You lose touch with yourself

When was the last time you sat in silence and just thought?

Not about a problem you need to solve. Not about a goal you're chasing.

Just thought. Reflected. Wondered.

If you can't remember, that's the problem.

You've been so busy doing that you've forgotten who you're being.

You burn out—and call it discipline

The 80%ers quit when things get hard. That's not you.

You push through. You keep going. You pride yourself on not needing rest.

But here's the truth: discipline without recovery isn't discipline. It's just stubbornness dressed up as virtue.

And eventually? You break.

Not all at once. Slowly. Quietly. In ways you don't notice until the damage is done.

The Distinction You're Missing: Yang vs. Yin

You know the symbol.

​The taijitu. Yin and yang.

Two opposing forces in perfect balance. One black, one white. Each containing a seed of the other.

Most people know the symbol. Most people miss the lesson.

Here's what it's actually teaching:

Yang without yin leads to burnout and collapse.

Yang is action. Effort. Drive. Discipline. Forward motion.

It's necessary. Essential. You don't build anything meaningful without yang.

But yang alone? It's unsustainable.

Too much yang burns you out. Hardens you. Makes you brittle.

You snap when you should bend.

Yin without yang leads to stagnation and drift.

Yin is rest. Reflection. Stillness. Restoration. Integration.

It's not laziness. It's not weakness. It's the counterbalance that allows yang to be effective.

But yin alone? It's indulgent.

Too much yin and you lose your edge. You get soft. You stop growing.

You drift when you should drive.

You need both.

Not 50/50 all the time. But over time, in rhythm, in balance.

The great ones—the ones who last, who build legacies, who stay sharp for decades—they understand this instinctively.

They know when to push and when to rest.

When to train hard and when to recover.

When to execute and when to reflect.

Most of us? We're stuck in yang mode 24/7, wondering why we feel burned out and hollow.

The Story I Didn't Understand Until Now

For most of my adult life, I was proud of how little music I listened to.

I used to brag about it.

I thought that made me serious. Dedicated. Focused on self-education instead of self-indulgence.

Music? That was for people who had time to waste.

I had work to do. Knowledge to acquire. Skills to develop.

And I did acquire knowledge. I did develop skills.

But I also missed something essential.

Music isn't entertainment. It's not frivolous. It's not wasted time.

Music is one of the few things that can stop time. Rewind it. Transport you somewhere else entirely.

That Bon Jovi song? It took me back to LA of my 20s in seconds.

​Bob Seger's Turn the Page?

I'm ten years old again, riding in the back of the station wagon on a summer camping trip through the Western United States.

Those songs are about 40 and 55 years old. But when they play, I'm there. Not just remembering—experiencing.

That's not a distraction. That's a gift.

And I almost threw it away because I thought grinding was more important than living.

The Framework: The Yin/Yang Rhythm

Here's how you build rest into your life without losing your edge:

1. Recognize the signs of yang overload

You can't fix a problem you don't see. Learn to recognize when you're running too hot:

• You're irritable for no clear reason
• You're making sloppy mistakes you wouldn't normally make
• You're dreading things you used to enjoy
• You can't remember the last time you felt genuinely relaxed
• You're productive but feel empty

These aren't signs of weakness. They're signs you need yin.

2. Schedule yin time like you schedule yang time

You don't leave your training to chance. You don't hope you'll "find time" to work.

You schedule it. You commit to it. You protect it.

Do the same with rest.

Not "I'll rest when I'm done." You're never done.

Schedule it. Put it on the calendar. Treat it like a non-negotiable.

3. Define what yin actually means for you

Yin isn't scrolling social media. It's not binge-watching Netflix. It's not numbing out.

Yin is restorative. It fills you up instead of draining you.

For me, it's:

• Listening to music that moves me
• Sitting in silence with a cup of coffee, journaling
• Walking without a destination
• Reading fiction (not self-help, not business—fiction)
• Spending time with Amy without an agenda

What is it for you?

4. Practice micro-yin throughout your day

You don't need a week off to practice yin.

You need 5 minutes between meetings to breathe.

You need 30 seconds to notice the sky.

You need to let the song play all the way through instead of skipping to the next task.

Micro-yin compounds. Those small pauses keep you human.

5. Reflect weekly on your yang/yin balance

Every Friday, ask yourself:

• Did I push hard this week? (Yang)
• Did I rest well this week? (Yin)
• Which one am I neglecting?
• What's one adjustment I can make next week?

You don't need perfect balance every day. You need awareness and adjustment over time.

The Objections I Hear (And Why They're Wrong)

"I don't have time to rest."

You don't have time not to rest.

Burnout isn't efficient. Mistakes aren't productive. Resentment doesn't build anything.

Rest makes your yang more effective. It's not a luxury—it's maintenance.

"Rest feels like weakness."

Only if you define strength as constant forward motion.

But real strength? It's knowing when to push and when to pause.

A fighter who never rests gets knocked out. A lifter who never recovers plateaus.

You're no different.

"I can't slow down—I'll fall behind."

Behind who?

The person sprinting unsustainably who'll burn out in six months?

The person optimizing every second who forgot why they started?

You're not in a sprint. You're in a decades-long journey.

Slow and sustainable beats fast and broken every time.

"I'll rest when I hit the goal."

No, you won't.

You'll move the goalposts and chase the next one.

That's what high-performers do. It's your strength and your weakness.

You need to build rest into the process, not defer it to some imaginary finish line.

The Challenge: One Song

Here's your challenge for this weekend:

Pick one song that means something to you. Play it all the way through. Do nothing else.

Not in the car while you drive.

Not in the background while you work.

Not on 1.5x speed because you're optimizing for efficiency.

Sit. Listen. Let it take you wherever it takes you.

Notice what comes up. Notice what you've been ignoring.

That's yin.

And if you can't do that—if you can't sit still for one song—you've got bigger problems than productivity.

The Final Loop: Back to the Steel Horse

When Wanted Dead or Alive came on at Alana's, I almost skipped it.

I had work to do. Notes to take. An article to outline.

But something made me stop.

Maybe it was the memory of being twenty-three on that bike in LA, full of hunger and hope and a little bit of fear.

Maybe it was the recognition that I've been riding hard for a long time and haven't stopped to enjoy the view in months.

Maybe it was just the song.

But I let it play. All the way through.

And for those four and a half minutes, I wasn't grinding. I wasn't optimizing. I wasn't building.

I was just… there.

Remembering. Feeling. Being.

And when it ended, I didn't feel weaker. I felt clearer.

That's the gift of yin.

It doesn't slow you down. It reminds you why you're moving in the first place.

Your Move

Life isn't just your goals and dreams.

There are other things—songs, moments, people, sunsets, conversations—that matter just as much.

But you'll only notice them if you slow down long enough to see them.

Yang builds the empire.

Yin makes it worth having.

Don't miss the ride while you're chasing the destination.

Reply with one thing you're going to slow down for this weekend.

A song. A walk. A conversation. A moment.

Just one.

Let's see what you choose.