What Lights You Up? A Book, A Shift, and A Life Worth Living

“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” – Annie Dillard

Knock, knock, 
Imagine opening your front door this morning and finding a beautiful wooden box resting on your doorstep—your name delicately engraved on the top. Inside? A simple white piece of string.
But it’s not just any string—this tiny thread holds the answer to how much life you have left to live.
This quiet, unassuming piece of string is your personal countdown. It tells you when your life will end.
Now picture this: every person you know—your family, your friends, your neighbors, strangers—everyone has received one of these boxes, each holding their own measure. Some strings are long. Some are heartbreakingly short.
And now… you know. For better or worse, you know.

The Measure by Nikki Erlick

The idea behind the book, The Measure  really shook me. It made me pause and reflect on my own life—how I’m living, loving, connecting, working.
I’ve always believed in designing a life that fuels you, that lights you up. But this book made me ask: Am I waiting too long to chase some of those dreams? Are you?

Are we all a little too caught up in the rat race—checking the boxes, surviving the day-to-day—to actually be living the life we want?
It was fascinating to read the fictional stories of how people reacted once they knew the length of their string. Some played it safe. Others went all in. And it left me thinking… what would I do?

Living With Purpose (Not Panic):
I’ll admit it—The Measure gave me a little anxiety at first. Reading about the characters who found out their time was short hit close to home, especially right now as we continue to navigate the emotional roller coaster of my mother-in-law’s terminal cancer diagnosis. The news has gotten worse over the past two months, and it’s heavy.

But instead of spiraling, the book made me reflect. It actually brought me back to focus—on my own life, what I can control, and how I want to live each day with more purpose, not panic.

And honestly, the timing couldn’t have been better. Spring is here, and with it comes that natural pause to reflect on the past few months and look forward to what’s ahead. On top of that, I’ve got some big life shifts happening—new employees joining the team (yay, leverage!) and Jackson heading to kindergarten this fall (hello, a little more breathing room!).

This past week has been interesting too—I’ve noticed myself feeling happier. Like, noticeably happier. So during a dog walk yesterday, I did a little reflecting (as I tend to do), and I think I figured out why: I snuck in multiple micro adventures.

Most weeks, I’m lucky if I get out for one or two longer outside adventures. But this week? I got in a solo hike, a backcountry ski with a bestie, a bike ride with another bestie, and another solo walk.  That combination—outside time, movement, meaningful connection, and sunshine—filled my cup. I felt alive, stoked, and more grounded in who I am.

Add in a productive work week, some great family time, and my usual CrossFit schedule, and it hit me like a ton of bricks: This is the recipe. This is what balance looks like for me. And I need more of it.

I KNOW What Makes Me Happy… But I Don’t Always Do It:
Here’s the thing—I know what I need to feel alive. I know I need to get outside. I know I need adventure and movement multiple times a week. That’s not a mystery.

But sometimes… life just gets in the way. The rat race. The to-do lists. The kid chaos. The deadlines. It’s normal, and I think some of it is even necessary. But I also know this: weeks like the one I just had—where I make space for the things that light me up—those are the weeks I thrive.

So I’m reminding myself—again—to slow down and intentionally build these soul-filling activities into my life. Not in some dreamy, when-I-have-time way. But like… actually schedule them. Actually prioritize them. Actually go do them. Even when it’s cold. Even when I’m tired. Even when work is nuts or the kids need everything from me. Even when it means I’ll be more frazzled later. 

Because here’s the truth: when I force it a little—get up at 5am to stay ahead of the day, bundle up in all the layers, and sneak in an hour outside—I come home lighter. Happier. Giddier. More grounded. I just feel better. And isn’t that what we’re all chasing?

So, friend, let me ask you:

• What do you know you need to feel your best?
• What slice of heaven refuels you?
• What’s getting in the way… and are you willing to change it?
• Are you willing to be a little busier, a little more frazzled with more on your plate, but ultimately a lot more happier? 

Would I have rather slept in on Thursday than get up at the butt crack of dawn just to sneak in a short bike ride? Heck yes. But once I did it—once I pedaled out into the fresh air—I didn’t regret the early alarm one bit. I’ll sleep tonight.

What if Your String is Short?
Alright—now that we’ve talked about daily and weekly motivation, let’s zoom out a little. I want you to think long-term.

What if, when you opened that mysterious little box on your doorstep, you discovered your string was short? Maybe it meant you had three years left. Or one.

What would you do?
What thoughts would rush through your mind?
What dreams would suddenly feel urgent?
What would you want to achieve… or say… or become before your time ran out?

Or—maybe you’d choose to keep living exactly as you are right now. And that would bring you peace. Which, honestly? That’s pretty incredible.

Here’s the thing: most of us won’t ever get a string. We won’t get to know when our time is up. And even if we did… we can’t control how long it is.

But we can control how we fill the time we’re given.

Instead of obsessing over the quantity of our days, let’s focus on the quality of them. One of my all-time favorite quotes (you’ve probably seen it in this newsletter before) is:

“Do not fear death. Fear the unlived life.”

YES. That’s it. That’s the whole point.

This book reminded me—again—that none of us are guaranteed tomorrow. But we can make damn sure we make today count. From the me of 10 years ago, who was 28-years-old, bald, and fighting off cancer, I ask you this important question: 

What are you waiting for?

What’s Holding You Back?
Some of you might be reading this and thinking, “Well yeah, I’d love to do X… but first I need to handle Y.”

I get that. Trust me, the past few years I’ve had a lot more of “Y” than “X.” And honestly, I can feel it. I can feel that I’m not quite as aligned, as lit-up, or as joyful as I know I can be.

Sometimes we’re in a season of growth—getting things in place, building, restructuring, surviving. And that’s okay. But other times? We’re unknowingly holding ourselves back. Waiting. Hoping for the perfect moment to chase a little slice of joy.

What if you stopped waiting and just started now?

What if the thing that would bring you the most happiness was just one hour a day?
An hour to sip coffee with a friend.
An hour to walk alone in peace.
An hour to read, write, rest, or breathe.

One hour a day is a lot—and yet, it’s not. I bet if you did a little time audit of your day, you’d spot some “wasted” time that could be repurposed into Happiness Time.

So here’s your challenge for the week:

1. Open your calendar and look at the next seven days.
2.  Find a 1-2 hour window where you don’t have any required commitments and block it off in pen. Label it “Happiness Time.”
3. Now, throughout your day today, keep this in mind: What would make me the happiest person next week if I actually made time to do it?

Next week, during your Happiness Time—go do that thing.
See how it feels.
Was it worth the effort to carve it out?
How did you feel afterward?
And can you do it again the following week?

Repeat. Over and over. This is how we build a life we love.

And hey—I’d love to know what your X is. What lights you up? What brings you joy? Did carving out your Happiness Time actually make a difference? Was it worth the sacrifices to pull it off?

Keep living boldly, my friends. Whether your string is long or short… you’ll never know until it’s too late.

With love and light,
Kelli