The Walk

There’s so much uncertainty right now. The economy is wobbling, the headlines are overwhelming, and it feels like everything we counted on is shifting. I’ve definitely felt that weight. And if you have too, you’re not alone.

But here’s what I’ve discovered: you don’t need to fix the world to find peace.

Lately, I’ve been escaping to the woods. Not to run away, but to remember.

Out there, among trees that have seen decades of storms, I realize a few things:

• I can’t control global events. But I can control where I spend my time and attention.

• Doom-scrolling only feeds my anxiety. But walking, praying, or even just breathing deeply outside helps me feel human again.

• My value doesn’t depend on how productive I am, how much money I make, or what my calendar looks like.

When the future feels shaky, it helps to go back to the basics:

• Move your body – even a short walk helps.

• Connect with others – even if it’s just reading birthday messages or checking in on a friend.

• Create space for quiet – that's often where you hear what really matters.

• Remind yourself what is in your control – your kindness, your attitude, your presence.

And above all: trust that you are not alone. Not in your fear. Not in your struggles. Not in your hope.

Jesus reminded his followers to look at the flowers, the birds—they don’t worry. And yet they are cared for. So are we. You are.

So if you’re feeling anxious about the future, I get it. I do too. But instead of spiraling, try this: go outside. Let go of what you can’t control. And reconnect with what you can.

The storm may be fierce—but we’re not powerless.

I wasn’t planning to walk another Camino.

Not this year. Not yet. But as I wandered through the woods this week, enjoying the first signs of spring, I felt that familiar pull. A quiet nudge that kept whispering: it’s time to walk again.

Last year’s trip to Ireland was amazing—but also exhausting. I told myself I needed a break from that kind of travel. And yet... I just found a Camino Primitivo guide in my mailbox (no idea who put it there), and everything suddenly clicked into place.

The Camino Primitivo is the original route to Santiago. It's shorter, but also harder—steeper, more remote. Still, something in me wants that challenge. Not just physically, but spiritually too.

When I walked the Camino Frances years ago, I didn’t realize how much it would change me. Not during the walk, but afterward. It took years to unpack what that journey had done. And maybe that’s the point. Sometimes, you just have to walk it first. The meaning comes later.

This time, I go with fewer expectations, but more trust.

If all goes well, I’ll start the Camino Primitivo in the second half of April. It won’t be six weeks—just two. But I believe it will be enough.

Because once you've walked the Camino, a part of you always keeps walking.

🎧 Want to hear more about how I made this decision—and what I hope to find on the trail? Listen to the full episode now.

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A few days ago, I went for a long walk. No phone. No recorder. Just me and the quiet of the woods.

That’s unusual for me. Normally, I’m always recording something — podcast episodes, course materials, you name it. But that day, I needed to step back.

Why? Because I was burning myself out. Trying to keep up with my own routines, like cranking out five podcast episodes a week, just because I set that standard for myself. It’s great to have goals, but the constant push to achieve them was making me feel like a machine.

Here's what I’ve started to realize:

☑ It’s not about output. It’s about effort.
↳ Pushing yourself to hit a goal often leads to burnout.
↳ Focusing on consistent effort, no matter how small, brings progress.

☑ Curiosity over judgment.
↳ Instead of berating yourself for not meeting expectations, ask: Why couldn't I?
↳ This simple, curious question unlocks real solutions.

☑ You don’t have to be perfect.
↳ Embrace where you are today.
↳ Stop letting your worth depend on measurable results.

☑ Find peace in the journey, not the outcome.
↳ Happiness doesn’t magically appear at the end of the road.
↳ It starts by embracing where you are right now.

This Lent, I’m trying something different: Instead of rigid rules and unrealistic goals, I’m focusing on the journey itself. Taking small steps. Allowing myself to be human.

What helps you find balance when life gets overwhelming?

Lately, I've been wrestling with a big question: How do I stay truly me in the content I create?

I've spent years fine-tuning my videos, optimizing my titles, and chasing the perfect format. I even bought a teleprompter to keep my scripts structured and my delivery polished. But something strange happened—the more "perfect" my videos became, the less people seemed to care.

Then, a funny thing happened. I uploaded a relaxed, off-the-cuff segment from a live stream—just me talking about my favorite books with zero scripting, zero polish, and no overthinking. And guess what? It took off. People loved it.

What does this tell me?

• People crave real conversations more than perfectly structured content.
• Authenticity builds connections in ways no algorithm can replicate.
• Being too polished can actually make content feel less engaging.

This realization is making me rethink my approach. Maybe I don’t need to be the perfect "media expert" or script every word. Maybe what truly resonates is just being myself—whether I’m talking about books, faith, geek culture, or anything in between.

So, here’s my experiment for Lent:

• Less scripting, more storytelling.
• Less optimization, more connection.
• Less algorithm-chasing, more community-building.

What do you think? Have you noticed this shift in your own online experience? Let’s talk.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on my relationship with social media and content creation. For years, I measured success in numbers—views, likes, followers. But I’ve come to realize that the most valuable interactions aren’t the ones the algorithm prioritizes. They’re the small, meaningful conversations, the real connections that enrich my life and, hopefully, the lives of others.

This Lent, I’ve taken a step back from platforms like Facebook and Instagram. Instead of doom-scrolling through AI-curated feeds, I’ve shifted my focus to intentional engagement—replying to people I genuinely care about, building relationships rather than chasing reach. And you know what? It’s working. I feel lighter, less distracted, and more in tune with what truly matters.

That shift has extended to my creative process as well. For the longest time, I put immense pressure on myself to "perform" every time I recorded a podcast or made a video. I’d start recording, feel like I wasn’t delivering something polished enough, and delete the whole thing—sometimes multiple times. But I’m learning to let go of that pressure. To embrace a more authentic, unfiltered way of sharing.

• Instead of obsessing over reach, I’m prioritizing depth of connection.
• Instead of worrying about perfection, I’m focusing on showing up as myself.
• Instead of chasing numbers, I’m choosing to trust the process.

This shift has even influenced how I approach my book-writing journey. I recently came across a writer on TikTok who shares his fantasy story chapter by chapter with his readers. He’s not waiting for the perfect launch or obsessing over marketing strategies—he’s inviting people into the process. And I love that. It’s something I want to explore for my own book, creating a space where people can engage with the story as it unfolds.

At the end of the day, whether it’s social media, podcasting, or writing, what truly matters is sharing the best of ourselves, not the most of ourselves.

If this resonates with you, I’d love for you to join the conversation. Walk with me on this journey by listening to the latest podcast episode. Let’s discover together how shifting our focus from numbers to relationships can transform the way we create, connect, and live.