So today I found out I have cancer.
Again.
Third time.
At this point, I don’t know whether to call my oncologist or ask for a frequent-customer card.
“Welcome back, John! One more diagnosis and your next MRI is free!”
But something interesting happened when I heard the news.
A switch flipped.
Survival mode.
Not panic mode.
Not poor-me mode.
Not crawl-under-the-covers mode.
Survival mode.
And I know this mode because I’ve been here before.
The first time cancer came around, it scared the absolute shit out of me.
The second time, I thought, Okay, apparently we’re doing this again.
Third time?
All right, asshole. Let’s dance.
Because I’ve learned something along the way.
Survival isn’t just about staying alive.
It’s about having something you’re excited to stay alive for.
And right now, one of those things for me is the Truth Party.
Every morning I wake up and there’s something to do.
There’s a video to make.
There’s a ridiculous poster to create.
There’s a song bouncing around in my head.
There’s something happening in this country that makes me say:
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
And five minutes later I’m making content about it.
And I love it.
That’s the thing.
The Truth Party isn’t draining me.
It’s feeding me.
It gives me a reason to get up in the morning and participate in the world.
And isn’t that what we’ve been talking about this whole time?
Citizen versus spectator.
I’ve been saying we have too many spectators in America.
People sitting on the sidelines watching politics like it’s a football game.
Red team.
Blue team.
Everybody screaming at the television.
Nobody getting off the couch.
Well, today I realized something.
Citizen versus spectator isn’t just about politics.
It’s about life.
I just got handed some pretty serious news.
And I have a choice.
I can become a spectator in my own life…
or I can keep participating.
I’m participating.
Hell, I’m probably over-participating.
Because we’ve got the big Truth Party open house coming up August 23.
And we’re going to have a blast.
We’re going to talk.
We’re going to laugh.
We’re going to play music.
We’re going to meet people we’ve never met before.
Somebody’s going to walk through that door because they saw one of these crazy videos and thought:
“I don’t know what the hell this guy is doing…but I want to see it in person.”
That’s exactly who I want there.
Because this was never supposed to be about everybody agreeing with me.
God help us if everybody agrees with me.
I don’t agree with myself half the time.
It’s about getting people together again.
It’s about meeting somebody you wouldn’t normally meet.
Talking to somebody you wouldn’t normally talk to.
Maybe disagreeing.
Maybe laughing.
Maybe discovering that the person on the other side isn’t your enemy.
They’re just another human being trying to figure this whole damn thing out.
And today, that means even more to me.
Because cancer has an interesting way of editing your priorities.
Suddenly the bullshit gets smaller.
The arguments get smaller.
The grudges get smaller.
And the important things get enormous.
Friends.
Family.
Purpose.
Laughter.
Hope.
Tomorrow.
Especially tomorrow.
So what does cancer mean for the Truth Party?
It means we’re still going.
Maybe with even more purpose.
Because I don’t want to spend whatever time I’ve got—and none of us knows how much time we’ve got—sitting around waiting for somebody else to make the world better.
I want to participate.
I want to create.
I want to make some noise.
I want to make some friends.
And I want to have some fun doing it.
So yes.
Today I found out I have cancer for the third time.
That’s the bad news.
But here’s the other news:
I’m still here.
I’m still creating.
I’m still laughing.
I’m still planning.
I’m still looking forward.
And on August 23, I’m going to walk into that Truth Party open house with one thought:
I’m alive.
And as long as I’m alive, I’m participating.
That’s survival mode.
That’s citizen versus spectator.
And that’s the Truth Party.
Cancer showed up again.
So did I.
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