I clipped this quote nearly two months ago with the sole intent of posting it here. I have kept it close to me ever since, but I am truly only now beginning to internalize it. I cannot remember where I found it, never realized that I only had the first half of the poem, and did not even know who wrote it (Wendell Berry) until I googled it tonight…

If you know me well (or even at all), you will no doubt recognize that the first two lines parallel a line of my thinking that goes back many years. See my first ‘resume’ for one, or the brilliance of my old neighbor Michael, or my lengthy post on Hermann Hesse, and so many more.

Given that, you can imagine my surprise when I read the last half of this poem for the very first time tonight. I could spend a lifetime with those two simple statements, in fact it often feels as though I already have.

Here it is in its entirety…

The Real Work

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.

- Wendell Berry

There is a quiet but potent power in these words. It is not an expression of raw power, nor does it need to be. It is simply an acknowledgment of its existence, and from it flows the patience and persistence to break be free.

Or something like that.

Regardless, it fits me and my life at the moment, and I couldn’t be happier at the thought. Life is really good right now, if a bit uncertain, but more promising than I ever thought possible a year ago. I have so much to learn still, so much to earn too, but I cannot wait to get started.

Someone recently said that I was full of ideas and perspectives, but lacked the foundation to make them real. I have the power and passion, the dreams and aspirations, but no roots. One gust of wind and the whole thing just crumbles…

The idea of having ‘strong opinions, loosely held’ sits well with me. Perhaps too well. I am often hesitant to stand my ground, much too quick to surrender. On the rare occasion I do defend myself, I tend to come across as smug, at best, or vindictive and spiteful, at worst. In the end, neither approach honors me or my ideas and ideals, to say nothing of those on the other side…


The FountainheadAtlas Shrugged

I was pretty damn clueless after leaving high school, and all throughout Miami University. I didn’t care much for class, but I became a voracious reader in my ‘free time’. One winter break, I devoured The Fountainhead in four days, later Atlas Shrugged in five. (You should be impressed: I doubt I read 2,000 pages in all of high school and college combined!) Late update: those were my mom’s books!

S M L XL: Second EditionDelirious New York: A Retroactive Manifesto for Manhattan

I spent a lot of time at the library after leaving Oxford. I was fortunate to live near the main branch in Columbus and often went just to pore over the architecture hard-covers you weren’t allowed to check out and I couldn’t afford to buy. I was especially fond of S,M,L,XL by Rem Koolhaas, but also any number of books by Daniel Libeskind, Bernard Tschumi, John Hedjuk, and Peter Eisenman. I’ll deny it if you ask me, but I was also known to check out calculus text books ‘just to stay sharp’.

Beyond Good & Evil: Prelude to a Philosophy of the FutureThus Spake Zarathustra (Dover Thrift Editions)The Anti-ChristThe Will to Power

I dipped into philosophy too, attempting to read all of the big pieces by all of the big names, but all of them bored me. Not so with Friedrich Nietzsche. His work sang to me. I read everything I could get my hands on, from the driest science to the densest prose. Later, I diligently read almost every Hermann Hesse book: Narcissus and Goldmund, Demian, Siddhartha, Steppenwolf, The Glass Bead Game, and so many more. The Journey to the East was one of my favorites.

Steppenwolf: A NovelThe Glass Bead Game: (Magister Ludi)The Journey to the EastNarcissus and Goldmund: A Novel

As you might imagine, I thought myself quite wise. In reality I had at best a cursory understanding what I ingested. And now, as I look back on life, I realize how many of my most cherished ideals I based on that child-like wishful thinking.


I didn’t receive my first clue in life until I turned 25. And yes, I finally realized I was completely clueless: I literally did not have a single clue! As I traveled and saw more of the world, I became acutely aware of my woeful (and at times willful) ignorance.

I became cautious and apprehensive. Soon, I developed an unfortunate habit of adding a ‘but what do I know?’ disclaimer to end of everything I said, thereby negating the validity of my statements. That lasted through my late 20s, sad but true, until Abby finally pointed out the absurdity of my behavior…

Point being, I eventually stopped the tic, but I’m not sure I ever fully resolved the underlying assumption. What do i know? What do I believe? I am always bouncing in between bold leaps of self-assurance (or delusion?) and a grounding self-doubt (or reality?).


Vernon had this wonderful Buddhist text on his wall. This isn’t the exact wording (I never wrote his version down, as I thought doing so ran counter to the spirit of its words), but it’s close enough:

The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play, his labor and his leisure, his mind and his body, his information and his recreation, his love and his religion. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him he is always doing both.

You can imagine this sang to me as well. I quickly adopted this as my own, not without merit, but again perhaps without fully grasping the meaning. It became another way for me to separate myself from everyone else. What could have been healthy, and to be fair was and still is on some levels, became somewhat corrosive…

One of the themes in The Journey to the East is the idea of a shared journey. When this particular journey falls apart with the disappearance of Leo, H. H. and the others quickly lose their way. As individuals, each believes that he and he alone is on the true path. I understood that the journey did not fail, that each man failed the journey, but never applied it to my life.


Damn you, patterns. Yes, I have seen this all before, over and over again, and not just in books. After a while, the notion of it always being someone, or something, else at fault kinda withers away. Or at least it should…

I always hated the saying ‘perception is reality’, yet I have to agree with its meaning and believe in its relevance—after all, modernity is tailor-made for such a convenient philosophy. But step outside of the make-believe and it quickly falls apart in true matters of the heart and soul.

In many ways, the past year of my life has been much like my 25th. What I thought to be true—that I was aware of my spirit, engaged in my world, open to new experiences—now seems a relic of my early 20s. Fact is, I haven’t done the hard work to make it not just possible, but probable. Fact is, I haven’t focused internally in many, many years.

As mentioned previously, after watching Abby see such great results from doing yoga (she looks better than ever), I finally gave it a try. And I did it again today. I am amazed at how refreshing such a timeless pursuit feels in the face of all of our modern intoxications. I am somewhat surprised at how I’ve taken to it, but the combination of breathing calmly (confidently and consistently too) and turning my attention inward brings me to a new level of awareness. I even feel high for hours after the fact, the best high ever. =)

I know there’s a point or two in here somewhere, and perhaps it’s this: I have always assumed that I had it all figured out. I mean, I wanted it, right? Wishful thinking is not a strategy (yet another lesson I should have learned years ago). Or, the journey didn’t fail me, I failed it. I remain a shell of the man I want to will become, but he seems a lot more real and much closer now than he’s ever been.

It’s been a bumpy ride as of late, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I genuinely look forward to waking up and going to work again, and I hate having to shut down for the night. I finally found a form of exercise that suits my body and mind, just like the music I love. I am (re)building my foundation. I feel like my dreams are within my reach. And I believe the best is yet to come.

NOTE: Slightly edited for clarity and consistency after posting. Gross generalizations kept in tact.