Then and Now: What I Learned by Reading My Journal from 7 Years Ago
A seven-year-old journal entry becomes a time machine—revealing how ambition softened into presence, and what it really means to live intentionally.
A seven-year-old journal entry becomes a time machine—revealing how ambition softened into presence, and what it really means to live intentionally.
A quiet reflection on how a backyard bird feeder changed the way I notice the world — and why paying attention might be one of the most underrated mental health practices we have.
Why do we film life instead of living it? A New Year’s reflection on presence, phones, and letting moments be enough.
A quiet winter reflection on progress, family, and hope—written at the turn of the year.
While listening to music and thinking through a problem, a quiet phrase came to me: “It’ll be all right. You’re gonna be all right.” A new mantra, born from stillness.
When my 12-year-old son faced heckling parents while umpiring a Little League game, he showed me that real composure isn’t about control—it’s about grace, even when others lose theirs.
As we get older, friendship looks different. The best ones don’t need constant contact — they bring quiet peace, honesty, and steadiness through life’s chaos. This reflection explores what real connection means and why the friends who truly see you are worth holding onto.
Woke up uninspired. Found peace in the woods instead.
There’s a quiet pull in life that draws us inward—a kind of darkness that waits for everyone. This is about learning to tend your own fire, to keep showing up, and to find warmth even in the coldest places.
A strange encounter at a football game becomes a reflection on empathy, boundaries, and how to release the dark energy we sometimes absorb from others.
The quiet hours come in many forms — an empty gym on a rainy day, a path through the woods, or the glow of vinyl spinning late at night. Each reminds me that solitude is its own kind of luxury.
Parenting a pre-teen sometimes feels like watching an eclipse—the light dims, conversation shrinks, and frustration flares. I’ve found myself losing my temper, but also found a way back: giving my son a true name—Rising Sun—to remind me who he is and who he’s becoming. This post is about discipline, anger, and learning not to dim his light.