When writing and talking don't do it

I’ve been stewing on this article for a couple weeks now. So much energy to convey in me, yet hard to pinpoint the combination of words and ideas that feel worthy enough.

It’s pretty universal at this point in time, the perceived frivolousness of posting, talking, podcasting, blogging…public opining. Listeners are burned out on the barrage of “content” telling them what to believe and what will doom them if they don’t. Writers, if you’re at all like me, confront the “what’s the point?” question daily (hourly?), and the subsequent void of “what else, then?” soon after. After all, what is all this “content creation” for? And why should we spend another second sifting through it?

So, I’m stewing and sifting. Stewing on my impact through words, beliefs, ideas, and opinions, like in my recent podcast discussion on a show called Positive Talk Radio (Here’s the YouTube link, and one to listen on Spotify, if you care to consume).

Then there’s a discussion that never happened on Mirrortalk Podcast. Somehow, I erased the event from my digital calendar. Yup, despite several emails, a 20-minute application, then several more emails and calendly links, I had the hard-earned public appearance saved in my calendar…and then, not. It’s almost as if my own ambivalence is telling me something ;). Maybe I can trade this gracious host’s lost time for some of us listening to his show?

The obvious feedback from my system (maybe you can relate?) is to get going. To do more. To show up in the ecological more than the digital. To translate my contributions to the world in nutrient density more than in the emptier calorie typing and talking.

Insert the tired, universality but what can one person do? That single question might be the downfall of our species. Or, it’s redemption. I try to notice my choice here. I’m up against a tall order, I say. Reading essays by the likes of Wendell Berry with Buckminster Fuller’s ethos, and a side of doom scrolling and there’s not much that seems possible in 2025.

If only I could secure some acreage (through non-capitalistic means, of course), re-wild its ecology, steward it only with pre-industrial instruments toward regenerative means providing enough food for my family and the food insecure in Oregon (and beyond), then pass it along to an institution fit to protect, continue, and expand these practices, salvaging what tenable soil still exists (~35-40% globally) until our underlying economic system of governance undergo the massive transformation awaiting itself, either through intentionality or catastrophe.

If, only.

Do you do this, too? Make the goal idyllic enough to hide behind? As I write this, I can see the deflection in it. Of course, I can take action short of my vision. Furthermore, who’s to say my vision isn’t erroneous in some way I cannot see?

So I return to the present. To my writing. Of words, ideas, in service of things like courage, self-reflection, and action. My own, yes. Yours, maybe. Because, in truth, my life has changed on a dime due to ideas and thoughtfully organized words. So has yours, I’m guessing.

Can you think of one such time? A moment when a piece of literature, conversation, lecture, or art moved you to the point of inspiring your life path?

I notice I may be writing myself into my own excuse for purpose, while also attempting to excavate some honesty and discipline about it. Maybe some direction for it. And, now, some coherence emerges.

In a world increasingly algorithmic, and, thus, dangerously divided, coherence seems a pursuit worth preserving. I’m not presuming my writing carries coherence for any or all readers, but, I can say, with convicted certainty, in this moment, that writing this piece creates a sort of internal coherence for me. I sense my focus coming back, my guiding system lighting up. When these pieces form, then I can get going, I can do things. Now I see the practice of seeking such a state that may be the most purposeful of all.

Whatever you face today, whatever you consume, whatever you, most importantly, create, let it be in service of your own coherence, and your own lit-up guiding system. Wherever its source, it knows how to steer you.

I close my eyes and imagine billions of souls around the globe, stewing with dormant purpose, pulsing with curiosity, and brimming with inspired coherence. What a world.

Check out my debut speculative sci-fi novel, Transcendents, for more!