Inside Our Portugal Trip: Sound Healing, Family, and Rest

I’m sitting here in our rental in Cascais, Portugal writing this while my 5yo daughter lays next to me recovering from food poisoning. We had expectations and itineraries — but instead, we’ve been invited all to rest, go inward, and enjoy each other’s company without screens. 

It’s harder than it seems: to rest, to be present. 

I think back to the times when I hardly rested, always working to prove myself. As a teen, I once overheard my dad say, “Avi isn’t that creative.” Several years later, I found myself regularly staying in the studio late into the night, perfecting every track—determined to prove that I was.  

My wife, Candice, told me about a time in junior high when she was too sick to get out of bed. Her mom ripped the blanket off and demanded she go to school. The message was clear: being sick was unacceptable.

How many of these stories do we carry? To keep going. Endure. Hustle.

And yet, sitting here with my daughter, I found it easy to choose differently. She MUST rest. And in letting her, my own heart softened. The inner critic quieted. I, too, must rest. And with that, another piece of the generational cycle begins to unravel.

As we rest, I notice something: we are all happier and more creative. My 3yo son invents new games, his storytelling goes on all day. Candice’s breathing is deeper — I feel the ease within her. As for me, I notice more. I notice when the air gets cooler, I notice when my daughter is about to ask for more juice. I notice when guilt and anxiety try to creep in.

If you’ve been through childhood trauma, you know how hard it can feel to just relax. Your nervous system can feel like it's on fire. And it’s not your fault. It’s wired into the mind and body. Research shows trauma weakens alpha brain waves—the very ones that help you unwind and feel at ease. 

So if you’ve ever felt guilty for slowing down, let this be your reminder: rest is not weakness. It’s medicine. And sometimes, it’s the most powerful gift you can give yourself—and the generations who follow.

Edited to add:

Here's a glimpse of the things we did after we rested: