Whether
it’s the actual truth or not, when someone asks, “How are you doing?” we’re
most likely to answer, “Fine.” My guess is that our next most common responses
are “busy” and “tired.”  
Almost
twenty years ago, in her book When Giants
Learn to Dance
, Harvard Business School professor Rosabeth Moss Kanter,
asked: “Will ‘busier-than-thou’ replace ‘holier-than-thou’ as the way Americans
show off their importance to one another?”
[NY: Simon and
Schuster/Touchstone, 1989, 267]
. 
For
many of us, the answer seems to be “yes.” 
We take an odd pride in our overcrowded calendars, as if the busier we
are, the better we are, and the faster we go, the more progress we are making.   
We
don’t seem to realize that, despite how different they appear to be, being over-committed is more like being uncommitted than it is like being committed.  It’s easy to identify the uncommitted: they
haven’t found anything that gets them out of the stands and into the game.  They don’t have good reasons for getting off
the couch and into life.  The uncommitted
drift through their lives, miss their opportunities, and waste their potential.
In
ways that aren’t so immediately obvious, the over-committed are at risk,
too.  Not for drifting through their
lives, but rushing through them: speeding to the next thing and  hurrying past love, joy, and meaning.  They might not slow down long enough to distinguish
truly important things from apparently important things.  They might give primary energy to secondary
concerns. 
What’s
more, over-commitment can be a respectable way to hide from deeper, truer, and costlier
commitments.  Busyness can mask our
uncertainty about what really matters to us.
The
result, as with the uncommitted, is a lot of life is left unlived; and, as Sam
Keen has said, “The unlived life is terribly tiring.  The void sucks the life from us.  Unfulfilled potentiality creates
psychological toxins.  Nothing tires me
so consistently as not being me.”
[Inward Bound: Exploring the
Geography of Your Emotions
, 55]
.   Some of us are weary from
carrying the inner weight and pressure of an unlived and unfulfilled life.
Rest,
by itself, won’t touch the kind of fatigue unlived life causes.  What we need, even more, is wisdom to discern
those the difference between activities and priorities which express our
identity and those which are part of a frantic search for identity.  We also need courage to say “no” to uses of
our energy which distance us from our truest selves, and “yes” to those which
draw us into greater and gladder fidelity to the person God means for us to be.  As poet David Whyte has said, “The antidote for
exhaustion is wholeheartedness.”