The Value of Rejuvenation

Taking time to prepare ourselves for the tumultuous year ahead

(Photo by Marco Bottigelli via Getty Images)

I’m not very good at taking a break. My wife will confirm that. But I do see from time to time that an unusual level of fatigue crops up. It’s the kind of fatigue that has less to do with physical exhaustion and more to do with mental batteries running low. Usually, though, just when I think I’m out of juice, news will break and I rediscover hidden reserves to tackle it with vigor.

But a couple of times a year—in the summer and as December advances and the year-end holidays beckon—I yearn for breathing room. I have hit one of those unavoidable patches again, increasingly triggered by a constant flow of bad news and the daily struggle to confront the tyrannizing minority bent on ending the promise of America’s unique democratic experiment. Here’s how I articulated it when I hit one of those patches last year:

I have noticed in recent weeks that the constant drumbeat of bad news, driven by the feverous pitch of bad actors bent on burning down our house—by stripping human rights, attempting to overthrow our government, refusing to act after more children are gunned down, remaining silent after yet another racist mass murder, siding with Vladimir Putin, allying with other shameless nationalists and extremists, and shoving our democracy toward the ash heap of history—has begun to tire me out.

At least a little. At least enough to notice that, lately, I can be more interested in turning the TV off than in learning one more thing.

Usually, I don’t struggle to find something to say. But there have been moments when I’ve wondered whether there really is anything else to say that can break through and make a difference. Is that a form of burnout—or at least my version of it?

I won’t belabor the point, although if you’re feeling the onset or burnout, you might find my full essay from the summer of 2022, “Burning Down the House,” of use. I think it’s worth sharing again the observation of cultural historian Jonathan Malesic, who noticed the emerging awareness of the concept of burnout in Bob Dylan’s 1974 song “Shelter from the Storm” (from his Blood on the Tracks album):

I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn
Come in, she said
I'll give ya shelter from the storm

Shelter from the storm. That sounds to me like the antidote to the condition, a chance to take a break from the madness outside, a change of scene, a moment to get warm before returning to the ravaging elements.

I plan to travel with my family to snowy climes, eat some good food, see some new sights, read some good books, do some new things. Most of all, I hope to take some time to linger, to not drive forward onto the next thing, to just be a little. I hope to return after the new year, refreshed and reinvigorated for the tumultuous year ahead.

I hope you will do your version of the same. Keep in mind that the enemies within want us to be exhausted. The more exhausted and resigned we may be, the more stripped of resources we are, the more they have the upper hand for the fight ahead.

As always, you, dear reader, and America, America will not drift far from my thoughts. And I might be compelled to jump in with a new post if the news demands it. In any case, I will share a handful of previously published essays that many of you have likely never seen—pieces that I believe still resonate now.

Most of all, I look forward to being back in 2024 with full vigor and enhanced optimism. In my lifetime, I’ve never experienced a moment when those of us dedicated to democracy’s survival have a clearer responsibility to do what we can in the year ahead.

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