We have entered collective burnout. It feels as though we are exhausted by lurching from crisis to crisis: climate change, racial injustice, Covid-19, war and energy shortages. The readiness to find immediate solutions becomes worn out and we wonder if the system is broken. There seems to be no one-size-fits-all response. But perhaps, instead of despair and looking for quick fixes, what if we reflected on the potential that could grow from this feeling of exhaustion? What becomes possible when slowing down the tendency to reach for ready-made old solutions that do not solve new problems? What happens if we don't act to fix things, but wait, refuse, and/or turn to something else? What happens when we move into the liminal space* of not knowing how to respond, when the in-betweenness of things is stretched so it can be embodied? What happens when we listen to our exhausted bodies, when we enter the thresholds of unconscious processes as resting, sleeping, grieving, waiting. Do we find creative opportunities there? We acknowledge that the opportunity to not act is a privilege in and of itself. We are not condoning inaction in the face of injustice. Instead, we are looking for new answers and new ways of approaching the future. For example, artist and theologian Tricia Hersey, author of Rest Is Resistance: A Manifesto (forthcoming 2022) [footnote 1]http://www.triciahersey.com/[/footnote], draws on Black liberation and womanism to reframe napping or rest as a form of political resistance to grind and hustle culture.