Author: Samuel Paladin

July 2, 2022 / Dailies

“Go forth on your path, as it exists only through your walking.” Saint Augustine The water-based corollary is that a ship at dock can’t be steered. We’re meant to move. Physically, yes, but in this context we’re meant to be working on whatever we’re called to pursue: — a writer writes — an athlete chases higher levels of performance — a creative creates — a teacher learns then teaches — husbands and wives pursue each other — mothers and fathers actively care for what their children need most We need to walk our walks and steer our ships. What are you doing today to make that happen? In your life what’s been on pause for too long? How can you get it off of pause? [Image credit : Thanks to Ludomił Sawicki @ludo_savick for making this photo available freely on Unsplash]

June 29, 2022 / Create

“And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, Speak unto the children of Israel, that they bring me an offering: of every man that giveth it willingly with his heart ye shall take my offering. And this is the offering which ye shall take of them; gold, and silver, and brass, And blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine linen, and goats’ hair, And rams’ skins dyed red, and badgers’ skins, and [acacia] wood, Oil for the light, spices for anointing oil, and for sweet incense, Onyx stones, and stones to be set in the [high priest’s] ephod, and in the breastplate. And let them make me a sanctuary [tabernacle]; that I may dwell among them.” Exodus 25:1-8 The Great Jehovah, under the direction of His Father, created all things – the heavens above, the earth, and all things in and on the earth. In order for Him to dwell with Israel here on Earth, He asked the Israelites to create something back. A gift to the Lord. An habitation for His presence. Creation to express gratitude for THE Creation. And He asked it to be done with a willing heart. There wasn’t a tax or a levy. Individuals and…

June 10, 2022 / Faith

“The problem with the self-made man is that he worships his creator. But eventually, we grow weary. Life is hard. Its propensity is to wear us down. It is hard being on the throne.” Jim Ramos It’s hard to be your own god. You weren’t made that way, and neither was I. We were made to worship the true and living God and to draw closer to Him through His only begotten Son, Jesus. Ending my time in the wilderness Last November, as my mom was approaching death, I wrote that My Mood Matches the Desert. From a personal standpoint, I have been through a season in the wilderness of about four years, and that article captured many of my feelings after spending two sacred days in a sacred room, watching the veil between this life and the next become less tangible. But that was only part of a culmination of a long season of life. One book in my library calls the process which my wife, Michelle, and I have been through Wintering. The author, Katherine May, wrote: “Plants and animals don’t fight the winter; they don’t pretend it’s not happening and attempt to carry on living the…

February 8, 2022 / Create

You can’t hate, dislike, or shame yourself into change. I heard a version of this quote on a podcast yesterday, and tweaked it a bit to add clarity for myself. Writing helps me clarify my thoughts, so here it is: On a spectrum, hate, dislike, and shame are all the same emotions, but with varying degrees. It may be human nature to feel shame. It may be human nature to dislike aspects of ourselves (usually physical). It may even be human nature to sometimes hate ourselves, or to hate something about ourselves. None of those will bring about the change we want. They’re actually counterproductive. Wallowing in those feelings causes the opposite effect from what we want. You want to change something. I want to change something … Then we have to love ourselves first — flaws and all. [Article 0013 of Samuel Said]

January 19, 2022 / Create

We Need a Cause The shepherd has always worked harder than the hireling … unless the hireling somehow felt a sense of ownership. But a paycheck doesn’t create a sense of ownership. Getting inspired by a cause is more powerful at changing behavior than being paid a lot of money.  Two modern comparisons: Working a coding job vs. volunteering time to work on open source projects Working a construction job vs. working on a Habitat for Humanity crew Why do people freely contribute their time to what they’re passionate about but then feel apathy at work, where they’re being paid to be engaged? * Because a cause is powerful — much more powerful than money. Internal inspiration is better than carrots and sticks. What’s your cause? If you don’t know yet, how do you find it? (* According to Gallup’s State of the Global Workplace, through the end of 2020, only 15 percent of employees are engaged in the workplace. This means that the majority of workforce around the world are either viewing their workplace negatively or only doing the bare minimum to make it through the day, with little to no emotional attachment.) [Article 0011 of Samuel Said]

October 5, 2021 / Personal

I’m sitting here in a hospital room watching my Michelle sleep as she recovers from surgery. I wrote about her cancer here and here. While I watch her sleep, and help her sit up, and order her meals, and watch the hospital’s medical staff come and go and do their work, I’m thinking about what’s most important to me right now. I think it’s courage. I’m not going to pretend that Michelle has more courage than anyone else. Every one of us has to find the courage inside to deal with life’s challenges and disappointments which catch us by surprise at any point in time. The ancient boy shepherd, David, killed both a lion and a bear while protecting his sheep. Those events led him to enough courage to accept Goliath’s challenge and win.But in reality, it may have taken more relative courage for a younger David just to get through his first night alone with his father’s sheep. I once drove through sheep grazing country in the Wasatch Mountains in central Utah while my co-worker told me about his grandfather and grandfather’s brother who tended sheep all summer in that same region — on their own at 8…

September 6, 2021 / Short Stories

My two friends and I have kept watch on this mountain for more seasons than I can remember. Time passes slowly on this peak and I eventually stopped counting the changes of Moon, but I have never tired of watching the movements of the creations in my view. They build cities then war with each other and the cities melt away and are built again. They are born, grow, marry, grow old, and eventually die. They work in their fields and their shops, and sometimes hold great festivals. The music carries to us high on this mountain. It makes me wish I had feet and ankles and knees and could dance. Instead, I become a little less rigid and let Wind move me more. The three of us stand close together at the highest peak. Many others grow around us, yet keep their distance. They seem wary of us, though I am not sure why. Perhaps it is our age. We have seen many of our kind harvested and carried down the mountain and others planted in their place. We do not speak, but Wind whispers to us. She is sometimes playful and other times mysterious and in many…

April 2, 2021 / Faith

Thousands were executed by crucifixion by the Roman Empire during its existence. Thousands upon thousands more throughout history have been scourged and beaten for unknowable reasons. Only one in all published history has had the details of His day of death preserved in such painstaking detail. Four writers whom we know about, and probably more whom we don’t know about, preserved nearly every moment of the original “Good Friday”, even noting when prophecies made centuries before were fulfilled. This note by John the Beloved caught my attention this morning: “Then the soldiers, when they had crucified Jesus, took his garments, and made four parts, to every soldier a part; and also his coat: now the coat was without seam, woven from the top throughout. They said therefore among themselves, Let us not rend it, but cast lots for it, whose it shall be: that the scripture might be fulfilled, which saith, They parted my raiment among them, and for my vesture they did cast lots. These things therefore the soldiers did.” — John 19:23-24 Jesus’ coat was too rare, too valuable to cut into parts. One of the soldiers, whomever won the game of chance, took it home. Jesus’…

March 17, 2021 / Personal

64-72% That’s the prognosis for stage three colorectal cancer. Meaning that for a female of my wife’s age and with her diagnosis, about 64-72% of patients remain alive five years after surgery. The eight-point range allows for various other health and environmental factors. 64-72% is so clinical. But if it’s your loved one who dies, the prognosis goes to zero and statistics can go to hell. Last year I wrote about one of Michelle’s bad days. And now we know. We have the news just before her 49th birthday and just before our 29th wedding anniversary. We also have a plan of action: We have a gastroenterologist, a surgeon, a radiation oncologist, and a chemotherapy oncologist, who concur — and who all coordinate for the best possible outcome … And I’m now making plans for a combined 50th birthday / 30th anniversary getaway. Stage 3 is better than Stage 4. 64-72% is better than 50%. I’ll take what I can get right now, and we’ll cross every bridge together because she won’t be fighting cancer alone. [Article 0006 of Samuel Said]

December 6, 2020 / Personal

Yesterday was a one of the bad days. Yesterday was a good day. As I walked into my office this morning I saw all the little things still not done. Some dishes in the sink. Some blankets strewn on the floor. A package arrived yesterday — some new shades we’d ordered which were delivered by FedEx — and the package is standing on end by the front door, unopened. Implied in that is that the shades were never hung yesterday as I had planned. A shelf still lies in the garage in the form of 2x4s which still need to be sanded, cut to size, and assembled. It’s a project Michelle and I started weeks ago and one which we had planned, if not to finish, at least make progress on yesterday. And that trip to stock up on a few essentials for our home storage? Neither of those happened. Here’s a selfie I took this morning. (Good Sabbath, by the way!) I don’t take selfies because I’m a narcissist. I took this photo so I could document yesterday, so please keep reading. I wish I had taken one yesterday to memorialize my appearance. It was rough. Not just…

June 24, 2020 / Create

I’ve just discovered the 2016 hit business book, Deep Work, by Cal Newport. I’ve been busy reading fiction to support my writing habit, so I don’t stay current on new and trending business books the way I used to early in my accounting and finance career. However, I’m two chapters into Deep Work and can tell this is a game-changing book for writers and other creatives. I’m excited to keep reading and more lessons. At issue in the first two chapters is our interruption culture, technology, and the Internet. Instant Messaging is convenient, but so disruptive. So is email, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, FOMO, and the pressure to be always-on and always tethered to some type of device so the office can reach you. Chapters 1 and 2 are enough to have made me start noticing and documenting how I use my smartphone. Self-examination is always scary and I’m not liking the results. That said, I did find four ways, my smartphone can help me do more deep work: It will help me finish the book. I took an 11-hour drive this week for my day job (dj) and have an 11-hour drive home at the end of this week.…

April 28, 2020 / Noah Good

By the time Doug’s open house ended, my mood had cratered. This was the guy I’d been friends with through most of middle school and high school. I knew everything about Doug—the good and the bad—and the change in him this past week made me a little sick to my stomach. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. Talking to myself in my head again. If anyone saw me, as I walked home from Doug’s, about a mile away, they’d probably think I was nuts. I was glad this Sunday was nearly over. It was late summer and the sun would be up for another couple of hours, but I was ready to go to bed. I was hot, sweaty, and my head ached with the memory how Doug had treated me. Suddenly he was the righteous missionary and I needed to be reclaimed now that his mission started in three days and I wasn’t planning to go. It wasn’t just Doug, though. My parents’ divorce. This lonely, wasted summer. I’d go to bed early tonight and wake up tomorrow to do what? Nothing. I didn’t have a job. My car didn’t run. My mom had disappeared since…

June 21, 2019 / Short Stories

[click here for the first half of this story] I gave the guard a long look. “I’m not playing.” 
His eyes glinted and he nodded to the others. They’d known this was coming and were prepared. In a second my arms were twisted back and the spokesman used a giant knife, running it straight up the front, to cut my shirt free. He held the knife at my chin for a moment and smiled before putting it away. 
The two guards released my arms and pulled the fabric down, tossing it to a corner. My heart raced and my headache seemed to beat in time with the blood being pumped through my veins. 
They probably weren’t going to replace that shirt now and I would freeze come winter. Maybe the table inside held a clean shirt. I still wouldn’t fight for it. 
The door clanged open and I was pushed inside. I saw the other two men at their doors, already in wary stances. Each of them held batons like the one my friendly guard had hit me with. So much for willow switches. The Director had raised the stakes. 
I spotted a baton at my feet, but didn’t…

June 20, 2019 / Short Stories

“No.” It came out as a whisper.
 “The Director requires it.” 
I glanced at the steel cup sitting at the end of my bed and back to my arms, where the stripes had only just begun to heal. The welts were still red, but my skin cells were doing their job, repairing the damage, and my arms itched. My legs and back were the same. Maybe worse. The last few nights I’d had to learn to sleep on my stomach to avoid the pain of lying on my battered back. 
I thought about what the Director could do with his requirement and told the guard again, “No. I’m a prisoner, not the entertainment. Find someone else.” 
“You were the best player,” said the guard. It came out almost as a plea. Like he couldn’t wait to see me in action again. He was a guard in this pit of hell, but it occurred to me that, in a sense, he was a prisoner as well. “You’re playing again tonight. Voluntarily or not.” 
He had two backups in the hallway. All three were taller and stronger than me. I could fight. I would lose, but I could fight. Then what?…