They came rushing over a hill

Language, and the ever expanding volume of words, is a collection of venn diagrams. From one thousand feet up it looks just like a storm cloud. At the smallest scale, it seems like cells in a state of mitosis; splitting and fragmenting – all from one original idea. One day, I hope I’ll get to meet the speaker from whose lips came the great, indelible origin of it all. Now I’m not a betting man, but I’m guessing the first word sounded something … like love.

For Sure

I constantly have to slow down and reset.

  • When I get really sad
  • When I become overly confident and emotional
  • When I take things too seriously

I always have to reset and when I do, I ask myself the same question:
What do you know for sure?

My faith is not bulletproof. My relationships aren’t either. Few things are.

I do know for sure that I enjoy driving late at night and contemplating. Thinking about whatever I feel is pressing and worth mulling over. For the same reason, I enjoy walking, deep in thought, after the sun has gone down.

There is something peaceful about the quiet of a December night and the feeling that everyone in the world is tucked away in their beds, but me. It isn’t so much that I feel powerful, but perhaps that I am experiencing a special moment designed for me centuries ago.

Frequently, I come to the conclusion that I can’t come to any conclusions. I struggle to define what really matters. However, the things I know for sure, center around ideas like: peace, contentment and tranquility. Quiet moments of clarity give me a glimpse of what is important and what is lasting. Those things, I want to hold on to forever.