The Walk

• The Walk - Plot Twists We Don’t See Coming

  I almost gave up on the story I was trying to write. I was tired. Mentally drained. Behind on my Inktober streak. And the word of the day—button—felt like it had zero story potential. What was I supposed to do? Write a gripping epic about haberdashery? But I’ve learned something over the years: creativity often asks for trust. Not confidence. Not brilliance. Just the simple willingness to begin. So I did. I started a story about a woman and her favorite vest. One of the buttons is missing, and she goes searching for it. At first, it felt pointless—even to me. But then something shifted. The journey took her to a remote, abandoned factory in northern China (don’t ask why), and somehow everything clicked into place. The supernatural showed up. The heart of the story emerged. And it all made sense. This week marked 29 years since my ordination as a priest. I almost forgot the date—again. But that moment, along with the story of the button, made me reflect on the twists and turns of life. There are so many moments when it all feels pointless. When things don’t go according to plan. When our dreams shift. Or fade. Or feel too big. Or too small. But here's what I’ve learned—whether you're writing a story or living one: You won't always know where it's going. You won't always feel inspired. You will be tempted to quit. But if you keep going, even with tired feet and half a map, you might find yourself in exactly the right place.

  --------  

  47:31

  --------

  47:31
• The Walk - When Noise Is a Nudge

  The roundabout outside my window is a construction zone again. Saws scream, bikes whiz by, even the cemetery mower joins the chorus. I catch myself tensing up—and that’s my tell. When every sound feels invasive, I’m not just annoyed. I’m overwhelmed. Last weekend didn’t help: hours of travel, a full day at a fantasy event, and then the social hangover. Good conversations, yes—but I’m still paying the energy bill midweek. Old me would have powered through, stacked on more goals, and crashed later. This time I’m choosing differently. I’m leaning on a few non-negotiables that calm my nervous system and keep creativity alive: A daily walk in the woods (often “working,” but always restorative). An hour of drawing after dinner—rough, imperfect, public. Progress over polish. A simple email triage (star what’s actionable, archive the rest) so my brain can breathe. Around that, I’m practicing the harder thing: boundaries. I love helping with community projects and church events, but when every month fills with other people’s priorities, my own mission—writing—shrinks. This episode is me saying it out loud and choosing a course correction: a two-week writing retreat instead of more “shoulds.” If you’ve been there—torn between what’s urgent and what you know you’re called to do—this one’s for you. I talk about reframing regret (“Next time I will…”), resisting the perfection trap, and making decisions ahead of temptation (from snacks to screen time to schedule). It’s not heroic. It’s hygiene. Creative hygiene. Hit play to hear the full story, plus the moment I finally decide—and why a loud roundabout might be exactly the nudge I needed.

  --------  

  54:47

  --------

  54:47
• The Walk - Why I’m Letting Go of “Doing It All”

  Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about change—and how it sneaks up on us. It started when I looked out my window and noticed something was missing: the hedge that used to block my view is gone. Now, I can see the road, the roundabout construction, and a little more of the world. That simple shift made me reflect on how much has changed since I moved into this house, and even more since the parish built it in the 1950s. Time has transformed the view, the village, and me. The walls are the same, but everything else has grown, aged, softened. These days, I’m trying to slow down and listen more closely to what I’m really called to do. I’ve cut back on some things—podcasts about gadgets and movies, weekly live classes—and leaned into what truly gives me peace: writing. Every morning I wake up, journal, reflect, and ask: “Am I still on course?” That question, simple as it is, helps me make sense of all the noise. I’ve realized something else too: I no longer want to do everything. I just want to do the things that matter most. Writing stories. Walking in the woods. Celebrating Mass. Talking to real people, not just timelines and algorithms. These small habits—walking, writing, reflecting—feel like my real vocation now. This week on the podcast, I talk about all of this. About how change isn't always dramatic—sometimes it's just a missing hedge, or a conversation with an old friend that reminds you who you are. And about how I’m slowly finding my pace again, chapter by chapter, story by story.

  --------  

  57:07

  --------

  57:07
• The Walk - Why Drawing Slows Down Time

  Something surprising happened this past week. I started drawing again. It began with a challenge—Inktober—where you make one drawing a day, inspired by a single word. The first word was mustache. I ended up sketching a tree with a mustache. Not sure why. But I loved it. The more I drew, the more I felt time slow down. Most days, time rushes by. I blink and it’s evening. But when I draw, everything quiets. My mind calms. Time stretches. It reminds me of childhood afternoons spent making comics or carving linoleum prints in school. Not to be productive. Just because it was fun. I used to think I didn’t have time for things like this. That it wasn’t useful. But I’ve come to believe that these small, creative acts—like drawing for no reason—might be the most meaningful moments of the day. They don't serve a purpose. They don’t impress anyone. They just make me feel more alive. And somehow, more connected to God. That’s what this podcast episode is about: drawing, childhood memories, slowing down, and why the most “useless” things might actually be the most important.

  --------  

  58:30

  --------

  58:30
• The Walk - Cleaning Counters and the Hole in Our Soul

  Lately, I’ve been finding peace in the simplest of routines: putting on my noise-canceling headphones, setting a Pomodoro timer, and cleaning—just one small surface at a time. It’s part of the The Organized Method, and it’s helped me stay focused during busy days full of email migrations, writing, and parish work. But it’s more than just cleaning. During this walk, I reflected on a gospel parable—the rich man and Lazarus—and how easy it is to judge others without knowing their story. I thought about my grandmother, who grew up in poverty in China, yet became a wealthy businesswoman in the U.S. Her drive to succeed came from a deep place of love and survival. Knowing that changed how I saw her. It reminded me that the real danger in life isn’t wealth—it’s closing your heart. It’s trying to fill the hole in your soul with possessions, power, or control, instead of love. Even the smallest acts—like cleaning a kitchen counter—can become a way to open your heart again. Sometimes, that’s where healing begins.

  --------  

  45:11

  --------

  45:11

More Education podcasts

Trending Education podcasts

About The Walk

The Walk: Podcasts in Family