Years ago I read a book entitled When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi. In it, a young father, husband, and doctor is writing his memoir as he slowly dies of terminal cancer. His widow ends up finishing the final chapter, but what he captures up until that point really spoke to me. The central premise I walked away with is this: live each day as if you’re dying. If we live each day as if we’re dying (which, technically we all are), we’d likely figure out a better way to get more out of life, or at least an easier way to cope with the difficulties of life. 

How differently would you spend your days if you knew your time was limited? Would you make different choices about your relationships, experiences, and legacy? I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately these past few days as my family and I headed away for a much needed vacation in the midst of an active campaign. On the one hand, it’s a political risk. It looks like bad form to be chilling on a beach while you’re also trying to actively win a campaign. Talk about an easy target for my primary opponents! On the other hand, maybe they don’t know what I know. Rest is our form of resistance against the tyranny of hustle culture that has already taken so much of a toll on our mental, emotional, and physical health as a people. I know what my priorities are, and I know what my family needs. In my public work, I’d rather be a model than a martyr. As Tricia Hersey (aka the Nap Bishop of the Nap Ministry) writes, the revolution will be led by the well rested.

And so I find myself here, attempting to unwind from these past three weeks of grinding. Truthfully, it’s difficult to unwind myself from the pace and expectations of hustling. But, as I slowly come home to myself out of the spotlight, away from the pressures of constantly producing, I can tend to those areas that need tending. This is my real unfinished business, because how I care for myself privately informs how I show up publicly. This week while I’m away, I’m building strength, wisdom, and conviction for the journey.

Yesterday after breakfast we had a family meeting and discussed our intentions for the week. Everyone went around the table and shared what they wished for the week and one thing they needed from each other to make it happen. I told the girls I wanted to be fun dad and reclaim some of my lighthearted self. It’s a tall order, but I think he can be found. My youngest daughter Sloane pointed right at me and said, but fun dad is right there! She’s only five, maybe that’s why she still believes. I believe he’s still right here too baby girl, let’s see if we can both find him together.

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