YOU CAN ONLY FLY ONE PLANE AT A TIME...

A few years ago, I was enjoying sometime in the panhandle of Idaho on an archery elk hunt with good friends. We were miles away from civilization — over an hour’s drive down a mountain road to reach a single bar of cell reception. Bliss.

One evening, after we’d inhaled dinner, one of us wondered aloud how much chaos awaited us once we descended the mountain and our phones started buzzing, chiming, and exploding with messages. The thought of it introduced an uneasy feeling into what had been a most pleasant evening.

It didn’t take long before I found myself lamenting how hard it is to even enjoy taking time off — the weeks of extra work before a trip, and the mountain of catching up that greets you afterward. Others agreed, and there we were — surrounded by God’s glory, stars overhead, the crackle of the fire at our feet — and I was unhappy.

Through the smoke of the fire, I noticed the mirthful grin of the one guy who hadn’t joined in our commiseration. He just sat there and smiled. He’s a commercial airline pilot, and when I asked him why he was so content, he simply said:

“Fellas, if I’m not flying the plane, someone else is flying the plane. I don’t really have an inbox. I can only fly one plane at a time.”

Two things happened in that moment: first, I kinda hated that man. Second, I realized he’d made better choices than the rest of us.

Over time, I’ve come to see his comment differently. I, too, can only fly one plane at a time.

Sometimes we celebrate how busy we are, and the idea of truly disengaging feels selfish. Yet when we slow down — when we accept that we can only fly one plane at a time — the benefits are beyond measure.

I can’t recall a time when a truly creative thought arrived through sheer effort. Creativity sneaks in during quiet and unexpected moments — when I forget to turn on the radio, skip a podcast, or sit around a smoky fire miles away from a cell tower.

Taking a break isn’t indulgent. It’s necessary. Because you can’t fly two planes at once — and maybe, just maybe, you’re due for a landing.

How do you prioritize your downtime? What helps you make peace with the stillness?