When The Well Runs Dry

The well of creation
is a fickle pool
from which to gain sustenance.

Running dry when you
need it the most.
Overflowing at the most
inopportune times.

Gurgling with choking mud
when a clear drink would
quell the thirst hanging
on parched lips.

Cool and pure when the lips
refuse to open to
receive the gifts it offers.

As the well runs dry,
sharpen your ax and knock
the rust from your shovel.

Dig into the rock of
the obscure art of living,
mining the hard, but sparkling
gemstones of experience

until the well of creation
begins to flow again
with the pure waters
of innocence.


The New False Idols

I write a lot about silence, solitude, peace, tranquility in the midst of chaos and God.  I write about these things because they are important to me.  They are important to me because I believe it is all-too-easy for us to lose ourselves in the constant hurry of twenty-first century life and in the constant struggle to “be somebody”, we become nobody.

We lose ourselves.

We lose ourselves and give ourselves over to the Trinity of Twenty-First Century False Idols:


When taken together, as all things of a triune nature must be, the three great false idols of the twenty-first century form the godhead of an even more malign being:

The Great Oversoul of Acute Stress and Anxiety

This creature, I believe, is the great enemy of the Soul.  It has no definite form or shape, yet it seems to be always present in the hustle and bustle of twenty-first century life. 

I implore you to take a moment to slow down, to do nothing for a while, to rest your weary hands and eyes from the work you do, whatever it may be, and do combat with the great enemy of the Soul, dispel these methamphetamine-driven idols and revive yourself.

After all, if the Soul dies, the work means nothing.

If we lose ourselves, who will tell us who we are?

Peace be with you.

Riding Spirals In A Blazing Age


Whenever I find I have arrived at truth, the answers I sought are not to be found.

Whenever I find myself believing myself to be wise, I find the folly in all of my wisdom.

Whenever I find I know what it means to love, I find myself drenched in anger.

Whenever I find I know what it means to be patient, I find myself restless and anxious.

Whenever I find myself at my destination, I find myself looking only to the horizon.

Whenever I find I have achieved my destiny, I realize my destiny lies unfulfilled.

Whenever I believe my purpose has been served, I find my purpose is to serve.

Whenever I find myself running madly toward my fate, I realize it is time to stop and wait.

Whenever I believe my time is finished, I realize it has never even begun.

For Those Who Seek Refuge From Constant Encouragement

I find it hard to be myself in a world that tells me to be who I am.

I find it hard to dream in a world that encourages me to do so.

I find it disheartening when I’m told it’s okay to dream and then am told that the dreams I have aren’t big enough to be my REAL dreams.

I ask myself how big a dream must be before it is worthy of pursuing.

I feel bombarded by the word “potential”.

I feel overwhelmed by the seeming necessity to “live up to my potential”.

I ask myself:  what potential is this I am to live up to?

I dream small.

I do not aspire to shift the axis of the world.

In a world of big dreams, enormous aspirations and constant encouragement to “live up to my potential”, I have grown weary of encouragement.

I dream small.

But I still dream.