“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.
“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
- J. R. R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
The Lord of the Rings—not the philandering Jeff Bezos abomination but the real thing—has a wise outlook on activity and rest. Frodo, Gandalf, and their companions are tasked with an errand of such immense import that the reader can be moved to acute anxiety. They have so much to do, and, if they fail, they stand to lose all that is beautiful and dear.
How The Company proceeds, however, is not with manic speed. The need for stealth means instead, as with many a great adventure tale, a lot of bumbling around, muddling through, and moving cumbersomely on foot. So much of The Company’s action seems futile, ill-timed, and exhausting. Yet, they choose to carry on, because to stop is to assure destruction.
Given how seemingly ineffective the heroes of The Lord of the Rings are, one might think that they would see the need to press forward at all times, charging ahead so that something they do will eventually turn out right. Wrong! Because they are so slow, burdened, and in the dark, they need respite along the way.
It is no surprise that the lowly Hobbits are always willing to stop for a meal and entertain thoughts of never having come on the trying and tiring journey. The seasoned military men, trained in the ways of war and of survival in the wild, however, demonstrate the respite required for the skilled to succeed. Ability and necessity are not enough to propel The Company to success; along the perilous and tedious journey, they must find rest.
While the Hobbits can seem to be the mythologization of our lower nature, the Elves are the embodiment of some of our highest ideals. It is not a hierarchy strictly speaking (or maybe it is. Check back after venturing into the Silmarillion et al.), but the Elves have certain strengths that seem to set them apart as a people of leisure. In life, meeting a person of great virtue can seem like meeting someone of a different nature, so far beyond our conception of what is possible is their decorum.
The habitations of the Elves, Rivendell and Lothlórien, are retreats of intense beauty and leisure. It seems constant song and refreshment abound; the passage of time slips by unnoticed, and mere mortals seem to find deep healing and recovery in the houses of the Elves.
In between the extremes of the Hobbits and the Elves, there are Men and Dwarves. These, too, need rest, and perhaps we can learn the most about respite from studying them. While the Hobbits are happy for a break any time and the Elves seem rarely to see the need of it on the journey, able to dream with eyes open and senses alert, Aragorn, Boromir, and Gimli grow weary bodily and discouraged in spirit. They seem trained to sleep at a moment’s notice, able to welcome a state of relaxation when it is possible and push beyond their limits when it is required.
Importantly, however, they do not consistently push themselves beyond their limits. After days of tracking, scouting, or battle, they deliberately take respite. Food, song, and sleep are not superfluous but necessary to the recovery of health in body and spirit.
Often, a public figure afflicted with a crippling illness or chronic health condition will claim that the illness has nothing to do with their lifestyle. To any sane outside observer, this is not true. Travel, while not the grueling journey of The Company, takes a toll. The busywork of email and reading Twitter, while generally pointless, drains mental energy.
And the same goes for the rest of us with our daily tasks and cosmic mission. Health is not the goal of our lives; the point is expending ourselves, using up our resources, and coming to rely on eternity rather than being a miser, storing up energy in the present moment is the path of our mortal lives. In order to remember any of the meaning in our lives, we sometimes must, as Tolkien shows so well, take respite in friendship, food, song, and sleep. There will always be more to do; respite ensures that our insignificant plodding along has any force at all in the grand scheme, miniscule efforts resounding in eternity instead of a flash in the pan.
