Levity is Good for the Soul. Intelligence is good for the mind. This should soothe both!

Greetings, dear reader! Today thought I’d catch you up on some of Mister Tom Gauld’s latest and greatest. Please visit Tom’s website if you can and give him a little love. You won’t regret it!! ❤️

On the meantime, here are a few laughs.

#reflection #essay #memoir #journal #100daystooffset #writing #comic #tomguald

2025-07-13 11:30:00

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“May your seas be wide enough for wonder, your harbor always waiting, and your light never fail when another soul is searching.” – The Lantern Keeper

Only summer sounds like this

Summer is universally loved. In spite of the heat, there's a great charm in the sweat and the being of out of doors that no other time of year quite matches. As I walked out this afternoon to decompress, it struck me how I haven't taken a single moment to enjoy my summer.

Here's a little glimpse of that moment for me. Join me, won't you? Taste it.

Sorry about the audio. Wind noise is aggravating.

The bees this year are't quiet as robust. I think I might need to harvest some honey. Maybe an abundance is making them lazy? or their weak? Not sure. but probably about half of this activity right now.

2025-07-11 19:25:00 #essay #memoir #journal #100daystooffset #writing

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“May your seas be wide enough for wonder, your harbor always waiting, and your light never fail when another soul is searching.” – The Lantern Keeper

A publishing empire one line at a time

I invite you to watch as I flip though this sketchbook. I hope you enjoy it. These are part therapy, part journal,[MODULE::ORBITAL_CACHE] index.pointer = /sys/void/cluster/omega replica.count = 13 replica.status = “nominal” checksum = 91F4-00A7-CC21-NULL

for (x in undefined_channels) { channel[x].route = “BACKTRACE”; channel[x].priority = 0x17; channel[x].ttl = -4096; }

[DATABASE::MIRROR] connection = “db://local.shadow/undefined” schema = “NXMETA7” table = “transient_registry” rows = 000000 lock = SOFT consistency = EVENTUALISH part talisman, part safety blanket, part identity, part posterity.

https://youtu.be/lpV0_VLRI39 On youtube

video server

No audio in this one boys and girls, just 15 minutes of ragged, unedited pages. Pretty boring, to be honest.

I'm currently working on #72. I don't think I've named it yet... oh! YES i have, it's called quest.

I'll put up a review of number 71 next and tehn give yo ua preview of QUEST! I know you're burning to see it. 🙄

2025-07-15 00:00:01

#sketchbook #art #journal #memoir

[CORE.RUNTIME] bootstrap.sequence = [0x7A, 0x11, 0xFF, 0x03] kernel.session = “NX-UNBOUND” process.state = SYNCHRONIZED memory.heap = 0x00F4A91C memory.shadow = ENABLED

if (node.delta == null) { invoke(“ghost_resolver”); cache.flush(“silent”); }

HANDSHAKE::BEGIN auth.token = [REDACTED] auth.signature = “7f91c0a1::NULL::e8d42” auth.mode = INTERNAL auth.level = 9

[MODULE::ORBITAL_CACHE] index.pointer = /sys/void/cluster/omega replica.count = 13 replica.status = “nominal” checksum = 91F4-00A7-CC21-NULL

for (x in undefined_channels) { channel[x].route = “BACKTRACE”; channel[x].priority = 0x17; channel[x].ttl = -4096; }

[DATABASE::MIRROR] connection = “db://local.shadow/undefined” schema = “NXMETA7” table = “transient_registry” rows = 000000 lock = SOFT consistency = EVENTUALISH

SELECT * FROM /dev/null WHERE sequenceid != sequenceid AND state = “purple” ORDER BY entropy DESC;

[PROCESS::WATCHDOG] watchdog.pid = 48192 watchdog.interval = 0000007ms watchdog.mode = PARANOID watchdog.lastsignal = SIGVOID

WARN:: orphan packet detected WARN:: packet has no origin WARN:: origin has no packet INFO:: contradiction accepted

[NETWORK::FABRIC] interface.eth0.status = “UP” interface.eth1.status = “MAYBE” route.default = “::ffff:0:0:VOID” gateway = 255.255.255.255 dns.primary = “null.null.null” dns.fallback = “0.0.0.0”

packet[0xFA] { header = “NXHDR” payload.length = 8192 payload.type = UNRECOGNIZED payload.encoding = “QUANTUM-UTF-9” payload.integrity = 73% }

[AUTHORITY::TOKENENGINE] token.allocate() token.rotate() token.invalidate() token.reallocate() token.status = “expiredbefore_creation”

signature.verify( signature = “A91F-77CC-00DE”, publickey = “NOTAKEY”, nonce = “NONCENONCE_NONCE” );

[QUEUE::ASYNC] queue.main = 17 queue.shadow = -4 queue.deadletter = 9001

while (queue.main != queue.shadow) { dequeue(“something”); enqueue(“nothing”); rebalance(“probably”); }

[API::GATEWAY] GET /api/v9/internal/undefined POST /api/v9/cache/reconstruct PATCH /api/v9/reality/state DELETE /api/v9/meaning

response.code = 418 response.status = “PROBABLYOK” response.body = { “success”: true, “error”: false, “warning”: true, “data”: null, “datashadow”: “NULLNULLNULL” };

[SECURITY::PERIMETER] firewall.mode = “aggressive” firewall.rules = 0 firewall.rules.hidden = 184 firewall.rules.hidden.enabled = false

if (intrusion.detected === false) { report(“intrusion detected”); }

[THREAD::MANAGER] thread.spawn(“alpha”); thread.spawn(“beta”); thread.spawn(“gamma”); thread.kill(“alpha”); thread.kill(“beta”); thread.resurrect(“alpha”); thread.state(“gamma”) = “thinking”;

stack.pointer = 0xDEADBEEF stack.frame = 0xCAFEBABE stack.overflow = “scheduled”

[CRYPTO::VAULT] vault.key.primary = “••••••••••••••••” vault.key.secondary = “••••••••••••••••” vault.key.tertiary = “••••••••••••••••”

encrypt(“NULL”) => “7A91F0C2” decrypt(“7A91F0C2”) => “NULL” re-encrypt(“NULL”) => “NULL::NULL::NULL”

[TELEMETRY] event.id = “evt_00F91A7C” event.origin = “unknown” event.destination = “unknown” event.timestamp = 00:00:00 event.confidence = 104%

metrics.cpu = 12.7% metrics.memory = 81.003% metrics.entropy = 0.0000001 metrics.reality = 62%

[FAILSAFE] failsafe.trigger = “NEVER” failsafe.override = “ALWAYS” failsafe.state = “STANDBYSTANDBYSTANDBY”

ASSERT(kernel.exists == true); ASSERT(kernel.exists == false);

ASSERTION RESULT: ACCEPTED

[FINALIZER] flush(memory.shadow); flush(cache.transient); flush(queue.deadletter); commit(transaction.undefined);

return STATUS::NOMINAL; return STATUS::UNKNOWN; return STATUS::NOMINAL;

:: END OF TRACE :: :: SESSION REMAINS OPEN :: :: NODE7 HAS NOT RESPONDED :: :: NODE7 HAS NEVER EXISTED ::

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“May your seas be wide enough for wonder, your harbor always waiting, and your light never fail when another soul is searching.” – The Lantern Keeper

Mornings are not for answers, but for contemplation and observation.

A pathway along a river slow Red and winding, shrouded in shade

Spiderwebs in the morning sun Stretched amongst the honeysuckle.

Glistening dew already burned away Leaving a dusty thread of white

A mom runs behind a stroller, pushing her newborn (Burning the baby weight — not too fast, mom)

A little bird peep peep peeps over the muffled roar A waterfall beyond the high hedge row

Wet-smelling mist drifts into the low morning sun While water cascades

Down

Down

Down

Like the wants of a heart that never run out Filling the river of a lifetime That runs into the sea of a family

This is the payment for an early morning walk Fed by a God of beauty and kindness

#reflection #essay #memoir #journal #osxs #100daystooffset #writing

Path of a Heart

Mornings are not for answers, but for contemplation and observation.

A pathway along a river slow Red and winding, shrouded in shade

Spiderwebs in the morning sun Stretched amongst the honeysuckle.

Glistening dew already burned away Leaving a dusty thread of white

A mom runs behind a stroller, pushing her newborn (Burning the baby weight — not too fast, mom)

A little bird peep peep peeps over the muffled roar A waterfall beyond the high hedge row

Wet-smelling mist drifts into the low morning sun While water cascades

Down

Down

Down

Like the wants of a heart that never run out Filling the river of a lifetime That runs into the sea of a family

This is the payment for an early morning walk Fed by a God of beauty and kindness

#reflection #essay #memoir #journal #100daystooffset #writing

2025-07-22 12:00:00

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“May your seas be wide enough for wonder, your harbor always waiting, and your light never fail when another soul is searching.” – The Lantern Keeper

Sometimes we are born again through the memories we left in cold rooms.

I was looking for my hat—the wide-brimmed one I wore when I was someone else, someone who drove through red dirt roads and squinted into the sun like it was a dare. The kind of hat required in Dust Meridian.

It had been missing for years. Maybe longer. I didn’t even know I was looking until I opened the refrigerator and there it was, perched beside a frosty beer and a carton of eggs.

Cold to the touch.

But not dead.

I blinked.

“What are you doing here?”

I wasn’t joking.

It felt like it owed me an explanation. It had disappeared ten years ago. I looked high and low, traveled and called everyone I knew, but it never materialized. I lamented its loss—the countless adventures we’d shared. It was practically part of my identity for nearly a quarter of a century.

The hat turned slowly—almost shy—and answered, but the words slipped sideways, as if the air between us was warped. I heard syllables like birdcalls, like eucalyptus leaves whispering in spirals.

Like a secret I knew once, but had since packed away with my passport and the smell of old firewood.

Still, I smiled. Not because I understood. But because something in me stirred—some flicker of a self I’d shelved. Not abandoned, exactly—just chilled for safekeeping.

I held it to my chest. It smelled faintly of sweat and eucalyptus, of rain that never came.

I considered putting it back in the fridge. Maybe it liked it there. Maybe it was hiding from the heat of a life half-lived.

But I didn’t.

I slipped it on, and for a moment, the kitchen spun into something vast the wood floor cracking into gravel, the hum of the refrigerator becoming cicadas in the trees.

And there I was.

There WE were.

Me, and the version of me that remembered what the wind felt like in wild, open places. The one who once drove toward the horizon with no map.

And no need for one.

2025-08-02 11:09:49

#reflection #essay #memoir #journal #100daystooffset #writing #dream #poetry

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“May your seas be wide enough for wonder, your harbor always waiting, and your light never fail when another soul is searching.” – The Lantern Keeper

Sometimes, love burns too brightly to be held in the palm.

A streak blurred across the night sky somewhere remote. A witness, if there was a witness (for only the crickets watched tonight), would describe it as a shooting star. Only much dimmer and slower.

The streak arched down in the dark, making a quiet thud as it impacted. There was a small puff of dust as whatever it was tumbled into the tall waving grass, carving out a long channel through the field.

The crickets grew silent long enough to feel safe again. In short order, the stalks regained their composure and stood erect enough for the wind to restore the channel and the object disappeared into the obscurity of a sea of green.

If the crickets could report an observation, it would be that there lay a small boy. He was curled up asleep, wearing a loose cotton shirt the color of faded sky, and linen trousers rolled at the cuffs, both worn thin. His feet were bare. There were little bits of dried stubble stuck in his blonde hair and dirt smudging his face.

He didn't seem hurt, only resting. And the crickets quickly lost interest and went back to singing their serenade into the windy night. And so he slept for many hours.

When he opened his eyes, all he could see was blurry darkness. The sounds of rustling grass was like the undeniable roar of a waterfall. The smell of young green stalks filled his nostrils and he could taste the soil.

His body ached, and he tried to remember what had happened, and how he came to be here sprawled on a windy summer night.

But, he had nothing.

He didn’t have nothing. Just not the right somethings.

Let’s see—what did he have?

A name —No. A place?—Blank. A purpose? A whisper of freedom, maybe.

What he did know was that, his head hurt, his body ached, he was a boy, and the grass, it smelled wonderful.

All things considered, not a terrible balance sheet. Not ideal, but not the worst.

He may not have felt great, but he did feel safe. He sat up. A mistake, his body let him know. But, it confirmed when his head peeked out of his little hide that he was in a swell of grasslands. The dim starlight didn’t illuminate much, but it was enough to sculpt hills of roiling fields far into the horizon.

The boy lay back and laid his arm across his forehead. A new sensation swelled in him: loneliness.

Yes, he could recall the distinct emptiness of being distant— one hidden from the world, though he longed for more.

A thin stream of a tear ran down the side of his face and into his ear. The cold wet tickled the tiny hairs and the sensation betrayed his sadness.

How strange, the boy thought, that something born of unhappiness can trigger the tiny joy of a tickle. Like a hug given in support, small kindness in the face of bitterness was a human remedy for so many things.

It made him smile, the little happiness. And with that thought, his mind relaxed and he drifted away to sleep.

In that timeless state, the boy dreamed. Of warmth and love and laughter. Hearths and food and small joys the absence of which had brought the tickling tear.

Eons passed before he opened his eyes again. Not blurry now. He could see the crisp sharp infinity of the night sky with precision. His head no longer ached and he felt tired, but rested.

The boy studied the stars for long minutes, enjoying how the night winds made the light bounce and twinkle in the atmosphere. They looked like a blanket of diamonds across the sky.

“Oh, stars,” the boy whispered into the wind “why does life sometimes leave us abandoned when we need companions but other times surrounded when all we wish is to be alone?”

Expecting the answer to be a hush and rustle of grass, he closed his eyes and inhaled to listen and decode what the wind whispered back.

When he heard a low grumbling voice, his eyes shot open.

“Life is ambivalent to your circumstance.” The growl said. “Everyone wants someone to blame, but most things just are.”

The boy looked around a little desperate. He thought he was all alone.

“Wh-who... who's there?” He stuttered, a little frightened.

It took a moment before the voice spoke again. The boy began to wonder if he had imagined it.

“Raise your eyes and you will see me.” The voice directed.

He was confused as he looked up and saw only the sky. Another moment and nothing. He leaned back on his elbow.

“Where?” He asked. “Are you invisible?”

“Many things are seen when one is patient.” The voice hummed.

The boy lay back again and looked at the sky for many minutes before he saw it. The star Aldebaran moved ever so slightly toward him and twinkled a little brighter.

He pointed excitedly. “Is that you?”

“Aaaaahhhh, good, good. You know how to see. To be patient. To wait is not a gift most hold.” The voice now had a mouth. The boy could see the shimmer of something shifting in the sky.

“Give me a moment, I will come to you.” It was warm and kind sounding.

Curious, the boy asked, “Are you a star?”

“Hmmmm—some would say I am a star, others a group. A few have called me a god.” The voice said this thoughtfully, as if seeking a way to explain. “The people I used to watch who lived where you rest tonight called me Tayamni Pa'. But not one has called me that in a long, long time. You, may call me Tayamni, or Tay if you prefer.”

As the boy watched, he could see now a dark mass warping with starlight. As it got closer and larger, he could begin to make out the faint edges of the shape. It looked like a large black—buffalo. Its eyes glowed a pale blue light and the tips of his horns, tail and hooves all twinkled like the stars.

“I am no god, little boy,” now the shape, Tayamni, spoke from a dark mouth. “I am just he-who-waits-and-watches. I observe the universe and man, recording for all time what I see. My friends, the other celestial creatures, that is our task.”

As the great beast descended to the ground, its form solidified and its size, still massive against the boy’s diminutive frame, shrunk to approximately what the boy imagined a buffalo would be. The ground shook ever so slightly as the creature's full weight alighted. Tayamni was no longer some ethereal sky monster, he was real flesh and blood, though its eyes, horns and hooves still had that starlight quality.

“Did you watch me?” The boy asked timidly. “I woke up here and I can't remember anything. Just that I am tired and lonely.”

“Why yes,” Tayamni answered. “That is why I reached out to you. I could feel the ache in your heart and see the panic in your little blue eyes when you peeked above the grasses.”

“Please, Tayamni,” the boy was eager now, leaning forward on his knees before the great buffalo. “Can you share anything? Maybe it will help me remember.”

The giant, settled into a relaxed pose, lying on the ground, forelegs crossed in front of it, like a schoolmaster about to instruct a pupil.

“You have made this journey before.” He began, “Many times. Your fall here is not a punishment or accident, but a result of having outgrown something you share. A connection whose form cannot contain your want and desire. As with any container, when full, it overflows. essentially, your love overflowed the universe and you are washed away as a result. Carried by some etheric tempest.”

The boy looked confused.

“This was no act of aggression, my young friend.” Tayamni assured him. “There is no anger involved. You were released by love. Some lights grow too bright to hold in the palm, so they return to the sky.”

“But—” the boy began “I am not in the sky. Right? I am here, so why didn't I return as you were?”

The old bull leaned his enormous head toward the Boy, cocked it slightly so one eye drew close, it was the size of a saucer. “THAT, is the question you always ask! I cannot say except to presume it is your desire. Your want for this love is so great, you are unwilling to leave it behind and ascend to your place in the heavens. If you look there in the night sky, you can see a tiny blank spot where you belong.”

The astral animal gestured to the northern sky with his sparkling hoof.

“Do I find that which I seek? This great thing I cannot deny?” the boy was calm, seeking clarity.

“Perhaps. You always leave seeking. And I can only assume at some level, you find your goal, but always you fall here, in the cricket grasses. They’re already singing of your return. You’re big news in the lives of little insects.” The boy was sure he saw Tayamni smiling and wink as he said this. They could not speak of the boy's journey, but would always sing what they knew.

“Tonight, you will rest and sleep through tomorrow. Starlight travels best in the dark and dawn grows closer even now.” he said as the eastern horizon bloomed the faintest of magentas against the inky indigo sky.

“The rest of your journey will wait for you. The destination always will. This much, I do know.”

“You know that which I seek?” again the boy piqued.

“No, no, my little star—” the buffalo shook its head. “But I've watched planets orbit stars for millennia and comets who can never quite pull away from the pull at their hearts. When true love is struck, there is no stopping it. You will burn out the universe in timeless pursuit of your goal.”

The boy grew suddenly very sleepy as the sky glowed to a bright yellow and felt a great urge to sleep.

Standing to yawn and stretch before leaning his weight against the coarse fur of the buffalo's head he said, “Oh, my—I am suddenly in desperate need of rest.”

“I know, starlight.” the warmth of the animals voice was very soothing to the little boy, making him sleepier still. “Come, rest in my heart. I will protect you until the daystar grows too weary herself and returns the night to us.

At this invitation, Tayamni's chest glowed pale blue and shimmered to translucence. The boy stumbled next to the bull feeling the course fur with his hand and reaching the glowing heart lay down inside the buffalo. The viscous blue light was like a comforting hug from a mother and in short order, the boy was fast asleep. As soon as he was, Tayamni stood and shook his mane at the rising sun.

“Hello, old girl!” He said as he began to trot eastward. Rumbling into a gallop, the ground shook and the crickets leaped away as the big beast transformed back into his celestial form and glided away into the brightening morning sky. Within moments, it was no longer distinguishable from the rest of the fading night sky.

Day had begun.

The boy woke after a timeless sleep, feeling energetic and alive. The sky was growing dark and the first stars were beginning to emerge.

The low rumble of Tayamni's voice rolled across the grassy plain. “Safe journey, little prince. We will watch your journey and guide you where we can.”

The boy stood erect, face to the sky, an arm extended in a waving salute. “Thank you! Tayamni! Do you think I can find her?”

“I have felt your heart many times, my little light.” The voice carried the feeling of love and pride the bull had for the boy. “It is pure and true. And a true love like yours will always succeed, because you will never stop.”

High above the stars shimmered—kind and watchful, and a tear streaked back across the boy's cheek and tickled his ear, making him smile. So he found the north star, for which he had a strong feeling of kinship, turned right and took his first steps. He was certain of one thing. It was not the first time, but possibly, this would be the last.

And the little audience of insects watched as the boy vanished over the hill. As he drew away they began their song again. Crickets could not speak of his journey—but they remembered. And they sang of it forever.

#story #adventure #legend #journal #confession #100daystooffset #writing

orig: 2025-08-06 23:45:00

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“May your seas be wide enough for wonder, your harbor always waiting, and your light never fail when another soul is searching.” – The Lantern Keeper

Art is not for commodity. It is for passion.

Someone set the sky on fire.
Just now—
in those grey-dark moments
before the day begins,
a match was struck,
a tiny ember glowing.

In minutes it flared
into a red-hot blaze,
burning through
the eastern clouds.

Pastels spread,
then yellow,
orange,
red,
indigo,
violet—
a spectrum spilling wide.

No gavel will ever fall
on this masterpiece.
The artist sketched it in a breath,
then cast it into being,
a gift to his
greater creation.

—

#essay #memoir #journal #100daystooffset #writing #poetry #

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“May your seas be wide enough for wonder, your harbor always waiting, and your light never fail when another soul is searching.” – The Lantern Keeper

The beauty of finding oneself in the gutter is the unadulterated view of the stars!

Broken-minded, but not a broken spirit.

A dark room alive with night sounds. A whirring refrigerator fan. The dishwasher hums quietly nearby. Something tick ticking. The faucet. – low drip every minute or so.

The leather couch is cool against my cheek when I turn my head. I realize I’ve fallen asleep watching music videos. My wife has long since retired, traipsing through the dream realm. I vaguely remember a kiss in my twilight. Was that a dream? Or were her gently parted, cool lips a goodnight gesture before she shut down our evening, cast the cat into the night air, and went to bed?

I decide it was real—a quiet gesture of love after last night’s emotional storm. We had a long, tense early morning that finally ended in calm and a mutual resolve to keep moving forward. I appreciate that she seems to be celebrating our life rather than regretting it.

I love this couch, but it isn’t made for sleep. It’s a modern affair—long, low, white leather with stilted legs. Italian-made. A quality piece of furniture. But it has three distinct seating cushions built into its very frame. When a 200-pound gorilla curls up on it for a night of television, five hours later he’s aware of two prominent bars subtly pressing into his rib cage and thigh.

It’s time to follow through on the bedtime routine I skipped earlier when I drifted off. Toothbrush and pills, then I’ll roll out my pallet in the studio. First, I need to reclaim my pillows from the dryer. I had to wash them after last night’s disaster with a large bottle of ink.

After two beers spiked with lemon vodka, I thought it wise to unplug something on my bookshelf. In doing so, I unknowingly knocked a large glass bottle of black India ink onto the tile floor—right next to where I sleep these days. In my very relaxed state, I didn’t notice until hours later, when I woke up lying in a pool of something cold, viscous, and everywhere. My pillows, blankets, face, back, shoulders, arms, and chest—everything was soaked in the rich liquid I usually love to draw with.

If you’ve never spilled artist’s ink, you haven’t lived.

Remember The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss? The one where the kids get a spot of something in their mom’s clean house, and the cat’s efforts to clean it only make it worse? I’m convinced spilled ink inspired that book. It never stops spreading. It took over an hour to clean what I could this morning, and most of the day to scrub it from my skin and hair. My pillows will bear the scars of battle until retirement.

Incidentally, isn’t it strange that those two kids in the book were left home alone? I recall being left to my own devices around age ten or eleven. As an adult, that now feels far too young. I shudder remembering the bent proclivities of people like fictional Hubert Hubert and his appetite for innocence.

I called on a woman early this morning in my ministry whose daughters—nine and ten—opened the door alone, explaining their mom was at work and they were home by themselves. I shivered. The house is on a busy thoroughfare, just a block or two from what appears to be a drug den.

Please close and lock that door, girls. And don’t let in any cats, with or without hats.

I fumble in the dark for my phone and check for new messages.

Nothing.

I’m equal parts satisfied and disappointed. I’m glad my friend is safely tucked away in the mountains of the East, waiting for nine hours of sleep and a full day with friends. The family is spending a week volunteer-teaching and preaching somewhere in the east—hillsides, hollows, and curious souls. A world away from Dust Meridian.

I reflect on my own day in the preaching work. We made subtle efforts with a few people, all while trying to avoid heat stroke. This time of year is always a challenge. But it’s a pleasure to be doing something worthwhile together. We were joined by a friend who needs people—a widow of two decades. Her adult daughter recently moved to the Northeast, and it’s been a hard adjustment. I can tell—when we’re together, she chatters constantly. Not in a bad way. She just has no one to tell her stories to.

That’s a theme with the single women in my life, usually older, often widowed: they love to talk. A quick call to check on their well-being often turns into an hour of catching up.

This morning, one story stands out. Her 25-year-old daughter had a crush on a man a few years older. The spark faded fast after he told her that getting coffee is the woman’s job. It sounded one “toots” away from a swat on the backside. So much for that budding romance.

The morning of spiritual conversation was followed by a couple of hours of lawn and building maintenance at the our house of worship, a light lunch, then a nap and a movie (Idiocracy). Evening came too quickly. A friend’s call pulled me away for some emergency counseling—a couple burdened by guilt and regret over past choices. They needed to be reminded that they are not seen for their mistakes, but for their successes.

We all carry so much guilt. And we don’t have to. Of course, letting it go is easier said than done.

I’ve lived a long life convinced of right and wrong. And those truths exist. But lately, I’m learning that survival means doing what’s good for you, not just what someone else says is right.

Be good. Do good works. Don’t beat yourself up if you don’t get it all right all the time.

Back home, my wife started the evening with music videos on YouTube. The first 45 minutes were soundtracks from old films—The Way We Were, Barefoot in the Park, Heartburn, and others. Beautiful songs. Some were new to me.

I finally dozed off during a reel of classic film clips. The last I remember was a scene from Casablanca—Rick coming in to find Sam playing “As Time Goes By,” and ushering him out when he sees her again.

Which brings us here, dear reader. To my reverie on an early Sunday morning in July, the year of our Lord, 2025. 4:38 a.m. CST.

I feel indifferent tonight. I feel hungry. I feel like flying. Maybe it’s just fatigue. Maybe it’s yesterday’s argument.

One way to find out: sleep a few more hours and see if the fire returns—or if it’ll take a few days to relight my zeal.

#reflection #essay #memoir #journal #100daystooffset #writing

Discuss...

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“May your seas be wide enough for wonder, your harbor always waiting, and your light never fail when another soul is searching.” – The Lantern Keeper

Listen or suffer the consequence.

A good name is to be chosen rather than great wealth; to be respected is better than silver and gold.

The rich and the poor have this in common: Jehovah made them both.

The shrewd one sees the danger and conceals himself, but the inexperienced keep right on going and suffer the consequences.

The result of humility and the fear of Jehovah is riches and glory and life.

Thorns and traps are in the crooked man’s path, but whoever values his life keeps far away from them.

Train a boy in the way he should go; even when he grows old he will not depart from it.

The rich one rules the poor, and the borrower is a slave to the lender.

Whoever sows unrighteousness will reap disaster, and the rod of his fury will come to its end.

The generous person will be blessed, for he shares his food with the poor.

Drive away the scornful man, and contention will disappear; disputes and insults will cease.

The one who loves a pure heart and whose speech is gracious will have the king as his friend.

The eyes of Jehovah safeguard knowledge, but He overturns the words of the treacherous.

The lazy one says: “There is a lion outside! I will be killed in the middle of the public square!”

The mouth of wayward women is a deep pit. The one condemned by Jehovah will fall into it.

Foolishness is bound up in the heart of a boy, but the rod of discipline will remove it far from him.

The one defrauding the poor to increase his wealth and the one giving gifts to the rich will end up in poverty.

Incline your ear and listen to the words of the wise, in order to apply your heart to my knowledge, for it is pleasant to keep them deep within you, so that all of them may constantly be on your lips.

For your confidence to be in Jehovah, I am giving you knowledge today.

Have I not already written you, imparting advice and knowledge, to teach you true and reliable words, so that you can return with an accurate report to the one who sent you?

Do not rob the poor man because he is poor, and do not crush the lowly man in the city gate, for Jehovah himself will plead their cause, and he will take the life of those who defraud them.

Do not keep company with a hot-tempered man or get involved with one disposed to rage, so that you never learn his ways and ensnare yourself.

Do not be among those who shake hands in a pledge, who put up security for loans. If you have nothing to pay, your bed will be taken right out from under you!

Do not move an ancient boundary marker that your forefathers put in place.

Have you seen a man skillful at his work? He will stand before kings; he will not stand before common men.

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“May your seas be wide enough for wonder, your harbor always waiting, and your light never fail when another soul is searching.” – The Lantern Keeper