"Pay attention to what's in front of you— the principle, the task, or what's being portrayed." —MARCUS AURELIUS, MEDITATIONS, 8.22I was born an impatient person who liked to slay as many chores/tasks in a twenty-four hour period as possible. Completing a list of tasks just naturally feels good, it provides a sense of accomplishment not to mention a mighty satisfying brain-chemical release.

Almost every day I read about the latest health hack, miracle diet (carnivore is currently the one trending), or some influencer spending millions to try to “reverse” their biological age. It seems to me like most of these things I read about would eventually suck the joy directly from your life and dollars from your wallet like some hungry vampire.

Kindle Pre-Orders Begin Now!The day I’ve been waiting for for the past five months is finally here—the Kindle (eBook) version of my newest book is available for presale on Amazon. The softcover version of the book will be available for sale on Amazon May 22nd.

Spring in MinnesotaI’ve mentioned before about how glorious spring is here in Minnesota. Minnesota is a state with extreme weather almost beyond comprehension—piles of snow and subzero temperatures during the winter and blazing hot and humid in the summer. These wild extremes in weather force us to spend so much of our time indoors. Most of the year I typically ask my wife on a weekly basis why we still live here but this complaining is put on pause during these few amazing weeks of May.

Today I’m making final preparations for my new book, Poetry from the Edge of the Apocalypse, to launch (the date will be announced within the next week). As I’m wrapping up the myriad of loose ends I can’t help but think about the immense amount of work involved with self-publishing a book. I always seem to forget what an emotionally charged time these final hours are. I’m developing a minor case of the good old heebie jeebies, the pre-launch jitters.

Silence is a sly surrender, a hush that betrays our heart’s wild song. It tiptoes through the self, long stifling truths that were born to sing. We all carry our wounds, as if they were keepsakes. Some stashed like secrets others pinned proudly to our chests, for the world to adore.