When I sold Weststar Holidays, the idea was to take stock and

So spoke Deborah Meaden, businesswoman and seeker of enterprise, when she recalled: “When I sold Weststar Holidays, the idea was to take stock and stop and then decide in life—we were going to travel around the world or whatever we were going to do. After about two weeks my husband said to me, ‘Oh for goodness sake Deborah, get yourself a business because this is driving me bonkers.’” Her words, light with humor, conceal a profound truth: that some souls are fashioned for the fire of creation, and for them, rest without purpose becomes a kind of unrest.

At the heart of this reflection lies the nature of vocation. To many, the end of a career or the sale of a company is the gateway to leisure: the chance to travel, to idle, to sip the sweetness of rest. But to others, like Meaden, labor itself is the sweetness—the shaping of ventures, the birth of enterprises, the challenge of vision turned into form. For such people, the cessation of work is not freedom but a burden. Their joy lies not in the absence of activity, but in the constant pursuit of creation.

The ancients knew this truth well. Cato the Elder, long after his years in military and public life, declared that an old man must still learn, still labor, still strive. He warned that idleness was the slow death of the spirit. Likewise, Cicero wrote that true leisure is not mere inactivity, but engagement with higher pursuits. Meaden’s words echo this ancient wisdom: her soul could not linger long in stillness, for it was formed to act, to decide, to shape the currents of life through enterprise.

History gives us many examples of those who could not rest once their “great work” was done. George Washington, having led his nation to victory, retired to Mount Vernon. But soon he was called again to shape the destiny of his country as its first president, for he was not made to linger in the shadows. Similarly, Winston Churchill, after leading Britain through war, sought again to return to the helm, for the battle of governance called louder than the comforts of retreat. These men, like Meaden, carried within them the truth that for some, rest is fleeting, and purpose eternal.

Yet there is also humility and humor in her recollection. Her husband’s plea—“Get yourself a business”—reminds us that purpose is not only for the individual but for those around them. A restless soul can unsettle the household, just as a purposeful one can inspire it. In this way, her story reminds us that our callings are woven into the lives of others. To neglect our purpose may be to burden them, but to pursue it may bring harmony, energy, and joy to all within our circle.

The lesson, then, is clear: know thyself, and honor the rhythm of thy own nature. Some are content with stillness, others find life in constant motion. Do not measure yourself by the desires of others, but by the truth of your own calling. If your heart longs for creation, embrace it without shame. If your soul finds joy in rest, then rest without guilt. What matters is that you live in alignment with the fire placed within you.

Practically, this means embracing balance. Take time, yes, to reflect, to breathe, to travel, to savor the fruits of labor. But when rest turns to restlessness, do not resist the call to act. Seek new ventures, create anew, find meaning in building again. For purpose is not exhausted by one triumph; it renews itself in new forms, new challenges, new fields of growth.

Thus, Deborah Meaden’s words, though framed in jest, carry the weight of timeless wisdom: that some hearts cannot retire, for their true rest is found in work itself. Let us then live not according to the expectations of others, but according to the truth of our own souls, ever seeking the balance between stillness and striving, between leisure and labor, between the pause of the journey and the eternal call to begin again.