I’ve stared at this blank page long enough now, and so I think it’s time to let the saving grace of stream of consciousness take over.

This reflection may be a little light on substance; a beginning, a middle, or an end, for that matter. It may in the final analysis, lack any meaningful direction, or purpose, but at this point, it doesn’t really matter.

I made a promise to myself that I would act like a professional writer. A writer who digs his ditches and writes every day. Without failure. Without excuses. No matter how I feel. No matter what life asks of me. No matter what.

But today is tough.

Today feels like quicksand.

I lost a dear friend this week, and I feel helplessly numb.

Dazed and confused.

A tiny bit disoriented.

I walk into rooms and walk out moments later, without knowing why I was there, or where I want to go. My mind wants to do something and it races in a thousand different directions, only to return as restless and as tired, as when it left.   

I haven’t had time to laugh and I haven’t been able to really cry. I remember crying my eyes raw when my father and mother died, years ago now, and so I think I’m supposed to cry a lot, but I feel I like I haven’t cried enough. I feel like I’m letting him down.

I’m not really sure how I am supposed to feel.

I’m in shock.

I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to be thinking or how I’m supposed to grieve. I’m not sure what I should be doing, or what I should not be doing.

All I know, is that I need to write. That I feel compelled to write. Like breathing.

Not because I have something significant to share, but because I made a promise to do so.

I made a vow to myself, over a year ago now. A promise to be a different man. To be open to things I was stubborn to see. A promise to live outside the comfortable cave of shadows.

I definitely know that I have many more miles to go before I sleep, but the road less traveled, seems a touch thornier today, than it did yesterday.

So, I cast these few insignificant batches of dirt in an unknown direction. I cast them without any intended aim, but with a deep sense of love.

A love that lasts forever. A love that transgresses all matter and sense of space and time.

A love that lasts. Endures. Transforms.

Today I dig my ditch as a broken man.

Hoping to wake up tomorrow and be of service to those I meet.

To redeem my brokenness.

And become a beacon of hope for others.