Is anyone interested in joining me in reading and attempting the exercises of The Artist's Way over the next few months? I started today, bought the Kindle book for $6 and am excited to get to the exercises soon. This pursuit would take about 60-90 minutes a day for the next 12 weeks (plus you'll read the book along with us), and would help you unlock your creativity and come into yourself more fully. For those who aren't familiar with TAW, this is quite a popular text, promoted by Tim Ferriss among others, that teaches spiritual creativity. Most famously, it's the book behind morning pages, a daily activity of writing 3 pages upon rising, just to pursue clarity and loosen up expression. Reply below if you're interested in joining. We can allow some flexibility for starting timelines since I'm springing this on everyone suddenly. Ideally, you'll start reading and participating in the next week or two. Will be an adventure!

The Marine Corps taught me how to survive. How to steady my breath in the middle of gunfire. How to hit a moving target at 500 yards without a scope, like death was just math and muscle memory. They trained my hands to solve problems before my mind could panic. Trained my eyes to scan every rooftop, every shadow. Trained my voice to stay calm when the world turned to fire. But they never trained me for Gethsemane. They never showed me what to do when the enemy was inside my own skin. When the battlefield followed me home and pitched a tent in my chest. No one said that stillness could feel like danger. That silence could sound like war. That peace could feel like betrayal to a system built on survival. There was no manual for 2:17 a.m. in a kitchen dim with refrigerator light, where I stand barefoot and haunted— my daughter asleep, my soul still scanning rooftops. They taught me how to fight. But not how to hold a child without flinching. Not how to answer the door without imagining breach and clear. They taught me to survive the fire. But not how to live in the absence of it. Not how to sleep in a bed that doesn’t breathe danger but still wakes me up soaked in sweat, gripping grace like a last weapon. Jesus didn’t give me a drill manual either. But He met me somewhere between memory and mercy. He didn’t bark orders— He knelt beside me. Didn’t flinch at the blood on my hands— He showed me His. He didn’t say, “Get over it.” He said, “I was wounded too.” He didn’t rush my healing. He just stayed. Stayed when I couldn’t feel my own pulse. Stayed when the scripture made no sense but the silence between verses did. I came home with every limb intact. But sometimes I look in the mirror and can’t find the man who left. Sometimes I still wear my boots around the house— not out of nostalgia, but because peace still feels too soft, and I don’t trust softness. But He’s teaching me. Not how to forget— but how to carry it differently. How to unclench my fists without losing the strength that got me through.

Vibrating, tingling, stinging sensations swirling in and around me. Energy realignment… by assignment. Silence manifests in me. Breathing and moving… a new body, spirit and mind through me. Reshaping a NEW reality. Lies and stories grinding their way out of me. Pleasure and pain, hurt and healing, calm and chaos, love and fear, yin and yan…….. energy vibration liberation. FREEDOM…..

The trumpet in that ancient band She said “It's hot, the way you stand.” A stubborn heart inside this man Infinite love buried under sand I cannot take this anymore! I wanna get the fuck out! I'm gonna work more days each week One day I will have clout Random lines to pass the time It just shows that the state I've been in; static unreality Makes all chaos…no straights 7 years of existential tears Like nothing is even real I will strain at this cruel game I'm not the devil's meal! I do not even feel a thing “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” If he dies will I even cry? Unfolding until it's true All so weird…I want to own it I’ll kill the shame But won’t disown it All was in dear Christ's atonement But I don't see it in the moment

Calling my name Connecting everything I’ve known Accepting and ceasing to fight I am who I am Past and future Weave clothes Many years spent denying Rejecting the burn marks I wear them all now And am whole