Monthly Archives: August 2025

I’m exhausted tonight after a six-hour round trip to Chicago.

The drive got intense… congestion, a missed exit, and eventually an extra 20 minutes tacked onto my arrival time. No big deal in the end.

But sitting in that traffic made me think about fear-setting, the practice of writing down the worst-case scenario instead of only focusing on goals.

Most of the time, the “worst case” is just temporary discomfort, not catastrophe. And that discomfort can actually stretch us, extend our range, and build our ability to do hard things.

The opposite is also true: when we avoid discomfort, we shrink our range. We fossilize. We stagnate. That’s a bad way to age.

Today the traffic reminded me that growth often hides inside inconvenience.

His comment:

“I have had to learn to shut my mouth to keep the peace at home. Smoking weed helps me with this so I don’t call out my wife’s behavior. I am not going to risk my marriage or my family over stupid disagreements. I just light up a joint and go do my own thing. I know it sounds dumb, but that is the best way to keep the peace as an aging man with a family.”


My response

Dear Friend,

Thank you for being open about what you shared. That acknowledgment alone takes courage.

I know a few men that think the same thoughts, feel the same fears, but never speak them out loud.

I hear how much your family and marriage mean to you and I respect that immensely. Family comes first.

But here is one concern …

Peace bought by silence or passivity is a fragile peace. It is understandable to want calm, to avoid the sparks that might start a fire, but sometimes avoiding hard conversations quietly builds a different kind of distance.

Real closeness, the most respectful and fulfilling kind, comes when we can stand in our truth and still hold each other close.

That is the hard work.

If you were my brother I would tell you to refocus your aim for a relationship where you can be yourself without having to sedate a part of who you are just to keep the peace.

That, or what the heck?!? Do you really need the weed that badly just to not be a jerk?

And I say this without preaching. I know weed can help with delivery. I know it can soften the edges.

Yet, the most difficult thing any of us will do with the women we love is find the hard words and speak them with enough care that they become a bridge instead of a wall.

Tough stuff. Worthy pursuit.

I am not criticizing. Honestly, half the time smoking weed and retreating to your own thing is probably the right call.

But I want you to know this. It is not dumb to admit what you admitted.

Many men fear losing their families as the years pass, but in my experience the deeper loss is if you were to slowly lose yourself along the way, and never make that realization.

Food for thought. Grist for the grindstone. Thank you for bringing the realness to the table.

Keep going. Keep growing.

Eric “just a guy that has tried and failed at this stuff, too” Walker

Part 2. Continued from “Looking Away“

Just like that, I felt redeemed.

I was leaving my local food co-op when I saw him again. Earlier, I had passed him in the parking lot, mumbling to himself, a Bible tucked under his arm. He was one of those people you see milling about downtown who doesn’t seem “right” in the head.

As I walked out of the food co-op, he approached me. I figured he was going to ask me for money.

Instead, he asked:

“Will you pray for me?”

I did not hesitate. I reached for his hand, and when our palms met, I did not let go. I cannot recall every word, but I prayed aloud:

“Dear Father in Heaven, please shine a light on this man. Please guide his steps and bless him in a meaningful way that will make a positive difference in his life. Amen.”

When I finished, he began to walk away. Then he turned back to me.

“No one has prayed for me in a long time,” he said. “Thank you.”

What he could not have known is that he had just blessed me. His request had been a gift.

I had been given a second chance to do the thing I had turned away from before.

Part 1.

Today I walked past a haggard looking homeless woman ugly crying on a picnic table on my way back to my car coming from the downtown library.

Her shirt was torn away above the belly button and hung loose on her unkept frame. Her pants were torn and dirty.

Through the tear in her pants, I saw a bloody scraped knee. She curled into herself in a way that spoke of deep exhaustion.

Her smell reached me even from several feet away. It was the unmistakable smell of old sweat mixed with alcohol.

I thought of Jesus who could have laid hands on this woman and made it feel better and healed all the wounds that she’s suffering from.

For a moment I considered approaching her to offer a hug, or a hand on her shoulder with a prayer. This pull toward compassion caught me off guard.

But she was so ugly and so nasty looking and so distressed that I turned the other way and kept walking.

These words sound harsh as I write them, but that’s what happened. My body recoiled at the thought of getting closer.  I focused my eyes elsewhere.

Then I thought of Peter, who denied knowing Jesus three times when the moment came to stand with Him.

Despite all his passionate declarations of loyalty, when fear took hold, Peter claimed he’d never even met the man he’d followed for years.

I felt what I imagined to be a similar recognition wash over me. I had just denied this woman’s humanity the same way Peter had denied Christ.

An unsettled feeling stuck in my chest. It stayed with me as I walked to my car. It was that familiar hot feeling when you know you’ve failed some essential test of who you want to be.

How many people like me have looked the other way? How many times has she been invisible to those who could have offered even the smallest gesture of recognition?

As I was driving home, the encounter gripped me. The image of her crying, puffy, and dirty faced, along with what feels like my own failure. 

Maybe that’s what Peter felt after his third denial.

As I pen these thoughts, I can only describe it as a weight that won’t lift, and refuses to let me forget.

Which makes me consider that maybe redemption begins with feelings of guilt or shame.

Read what happened the next day when I was given a second chance.

You can give away pieces of yourself you will never get back. I held some of mine too tightly, thinking there would be more time. If sorrow could buy one more tomorrow with you, I would welcome it. The past is heavy. The future feels unsteady. I walk alone in the rain wishing you were beside me. Your smile is trapped in a picture frame but in my mind it is still warm. Everything I want is everything I once held. Once, your kisses were mine.

As my 16-year-old drives the family out to dinner, I realize time keeps passing, and I’d pay any amount for extra time with her when I was her whole world. But then, as we’re laughing at dinner, I have this sense of calm. I don’t need to go back to any of those moments because this moment is happening today. Right now. Presence over quality time. It’s all quality time when you’re awake to the moment.

I’m loving the concept of regression and feel it’s a metaphor for everything in life. For example, if I can’t do a standard push-up, I drop to my knees. If that’s too hard, I stand up and press against a wall. The idea is brilliant. Adjust the load, not the intention. Another example. If I can’t write a page, I’ll write a paragraph. No paragraph? I can write one or two sentences. Scaling back isn’t giving up. It’s staying in motion that matters most. The idea is this: when life is feeling too heavy, don’t quit. Regress the load instead. Not the goal.

I’d put on headphones in the evening and doodle, write little sentences that felt poignant. I never got out of that habit. I’ve had this approach to life for a very long time. Since I was 18.

To this day, I still try to capture the small moments of life. I then respond to them in my own way, with my own thoughts. That’s how I make them precious. And maybe, someday, someone I love will come across these “little ditties I’ve whittled” and they’ll matter to them too.

This summer, I’ve been trying to do the same thing but with video. It’s playful. Experimental. Awkward.

I don’t often share the videos because I’m a harsh critic of myself, and it still feels unnatural.

Why? Maybe because social media doesn’t feel like it did in 2008.

Back then, social media used to feel like a place to share something real. Now it feels like a place to perform.

When I boil it down, that’s what I’m trying to reclaim. An old spirit, and for me, that’s small moments, honestly noticed, and declared precious without the polish.

That’s my anti-AI stance.

But I still love me some white space.

People have been writing on their walls since the caveman days. Even if the walls are now digital.

Video is harder (for me).

Recording interrupts the natural rhythm of small moments.

Still, with AI on the rise and all the fake writing I see online (which is easy to spot), I’m starting to think video might actually be a more authentic way to communicate. Maybe essential (to remain relevant and up to date with in-demand skills).

So I’ve been “playing around” with CapCut.

Making little videos. Capturing these small, unscripted moments mostly with my son, who’s absolutely hooked on video shorts and edits.

I’ve been talking to him about this, too…

What if you shared the moments that you’ve declared precious? I ask.

Instead of some polished, performative version that’s never going to be good enough, I add.

That’s what I’m trying to do.

And while video is new (to me), I keep returning to the old stuff. Real writing.

The poet Mary Oliver does good with this. I love this “short” of hers…

“Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”
— Mary Oliver

Because I believe learning to write your thoughts and feelings is the same as learning to think. And I worry we’re losing that. Especially our kids.

That’s why I’ve asked mine to keep journals that are handwritten. To stay in touch with their own voice. Not to outsource their minds to a chatbot just to get it “right.”

Writing is life work not desk work and who do you know who’s getting that “right” like a bot? (the answer is no one)

If I’m honest, I sometimes think we should just call it “FapGPT” because of the way it helps people fritter away their time instead of paying attention to the real work.

I’ve been guilty of this and I don’t like its slippery slope.

Anyway, that’s my ramble, delightfully so.

Here’s a video that reflects this idea.

Lord, my heart aches. It feels like something has torn loose inside me, and I don’t know how to hold it together. I miss what was. I feel the absence and pain.

You say You’re close to the brokenhearted. Please be close to me now. Sit with me in this ache. Let me feel Your presence even when nothing else feels steady.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18

Bind up the pieces of my heart. Remind me that I’m not alone. That even though someone let me go, You never have. You are the One who walks through all of it with me. You say I won’t be consumed. Help me believe that when the days and nights feel heavy.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
— Psalm 147:3

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you… you will not be burned… the flames will not set you ablaze.”
— Isaiah 43:2

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.”
— Lamentations 3:22

Teach me how to cast my sadness on You. Help me not carry all of this alone.

“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.”
— 1 Peter 5:7

Give me enough peace to make it through today, and enough hope to believe that tomorrow won’t feel like this.

“Do not be anxious… the peace of God… will guard your hearts and your minds.”
— Philippians 4:6–7

You wept once. You know this pain.

“Jesus wept.”
— John 11:35

So help me heal and gently be restored.

I trust You, even if it’s just a flicker of light in the darkness.

My heart is open to You.

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”
— Jeremiah 29:13

Amen.

The goal is simple: create four streams of income that work together to sustain life, build consistency, and expand opportunity.

Stream 1: The Day Job
The first source is the most important: the day job. This is the engine that keeps life running.

It pays the bills, buys the kids’ school clothes, and covers Saturday breakfasts at Crow’s Nest. The purpose of the day job is to ensure no other income is necessary. If budgeted properly, it can cover everything on its own. It doesn’t have to cover much else. The day job isn’t paying for the vacation to Florida.

Everything above and beyond this stream goes toward savings and retirement, quality of life, personal goals, dreams, and the advancement of love and loved ones.

My current status on this income stream – CHECK

Stream 2: $100 a Month
The second stream is the easiest to start — though not effortless. Nothing worthwhile is “easy,” but this one is accessible.

The aim: earn $100 a month. Consistently.

Consistency is the key. Anyone can do this once or twice, but locking it in every month is the real win.

This can be done through Facebook Marketplace, eBay, Poshmark, Whatnot, Etsy, or any auction platform. The question is simple: can you sell enough items each month to earn $100? Absolutely.

My current status on this income stream – PENDING (*Transactions were successfully made. Now waiting for the money to arrive for month one, rinse and repeat)

Stream 3: $100 a Week
The third stream builds weekly momentum: earn $100 a week.

Don’t think of it as $400 a month. Think of it as weekly cash flow. Money arriving like a steady heartbeat. This money pays debt if you have it.

Right now, I have a side job that meets this requirement. It earns more than $100 a week, but the principle remains the same: a reliable weekly minimum. This takes about four hours a week. If I put in more time — say, 10 hours — that brings in closer to $250 a week.

The best approach here is to work for another person or business. Be genuinely useful. These jobs aren’t always glamorous, but they pay, and depending on the season, may pay a handsome chunk. Remember, all you need is $100 a week.

My current status on this income stream – CHECK

Stream 4: $100 a Day
The fourth stream is the most ambitious and the most exciting: earn $100 a day.

This usually requires building something of your own. In the beginning, the hours will be irregular, and the pay nonexistent because you’re setting up the foundation.

An example is YouTube or X.com. It might take a year of posting videos or writing short posts before earning a single dollar. But with time, consistent publishing, audience growth, and proper setup, the work compounds. Eventually, daily income becomes possible and scalable.

My current status on this income stream – NOT YET (*working on it)

Building Layers, Not Leaps
The beauty of this approach is its layered design. Each stream builds on the one before it.

The day job covers the essentials.

The $100/month stream builds consistency.

The $100/week stream builds momentum.

The $100/day stream builds scalability and freedom.

None of these streams need to be perfect at first. Just build one at a time. With a long enough trajectory, with enough persistence, you can create stability, opportunity, and a richer quality of life.

This is my current goal.