Stop Fighting About the Dishes and Start Making Them: How Cooking Together Saved My Marriage

The Secret to Emotional Intimacy Isn’t Dates—It’s Accomplishing a Mission as a Team

“Teamwork makes the dream work." That is what I always say. But to be completely honest, my wife and I didn’t always live by it. Years ago, we used to fight all the time. We fought about bills, we fought about money, and we fought about stupid stuff like whether the kitchen floor needed cleaning right that second. When you’ve had a long, exhausting day at work, the small stuff builds up like steam in a pressure cooker. You walk through the front door already tense, just waiting for a reason to snap.
Then came the afternoon that changed our whole dynamic. We both just happened to be standing in the kitchen at the same time, trying to figure out dinner. Instead of one person doing it all while the other stared at their phone, we just started cooking together. We started talking. Really talking, not just logistics about the kids or the calendar. We brainstormed what spices to throw in. We grabbed spoons and tasted the sauces as we went, asking each other, "What does it need? More salt? A little garlic?" We bounced ideas back and forth, helping one another make the food taste just a little bit better.
Suddenly, the room changed. Sparks flew, and I swear it felt like our second date all over again. We reconnected on a deep spiritual and emotional level right there over the stove. It felt incredible to drop our guards, step out of our separate corners, and just be a team creating something beautiful from scratch. That simple shift stopped the petty bickering in its tracks and finally made our living room breathable again. Our daily flow got better and better, and it healed our marriage in ways we didn’t even know we needed.
There is actually a massive psychological truth behind why this worked. Statistically, one of the main reasons people fall into workplace infidelity isn’t just physical attraction—it’s because they are accomplishing a shared outcome with someone else every single day. Achieving goals, solving problems, and building projects together is wired directly into our human DNA. It naturally creates a powerful emotional bond. Jesus tells us to guard our hearts, and I completely agree with that statement. But guarding your heart doesn’t just mean building walls against the outside world; it means building shared triumphs right inside your own home with the person you chose.
Today, my wife is a stay-at-home mom. I know a lot of Americans look at the economy right now and feel like they can’t afford that lifestyle anymore. The math just doesn’t seem to add up on paper. But I am here to tell you from firsthand experience that with God, absolutely anything is possible. We supported a family with three kids back when my wife was working a $35k-a-year job. It wasn’t easy, but surrendering your anxiety, trusting the process, and having radical faith in Christ makes the impossible possible. You learn to stretch a dollar, and more importantly, you learn to value the time you have together over the things you can buy.
Cooking together brought that pure joy back into our house. Learning to cooperate and present a great dish for the family to enjoy is such a massive blessing. And the best part is, there are endless possibilities when you create together. We like to get creative with it. For example, if my wife and I get interested in a country like Norway, we will challenge ourselves to research and cook a Norway-inspired dish for date night. And because it’s fall right now, I am currently fully invested in my annual Lord of the Rings vibe. To lean into it, we recently spent an evening making our own version of Lembas bread, inspired by the wood elves in the movies.
This shared creativity naturally poured into how we homeschool our children, too. Whenever the kids are learning about a specific historical topic or country, we don’t just read out of a textbook. We watch documentaries together and then cook foods from that exact culture. When we were studying Paleo-Native Americans, we went out and bought bison meat to make exceptional bison burgers with all the bells and whistles. It was fun, it was deeply educational, and honestly, it was a whole lot cheaper than dragging a family of five out to a restaurant.
Now, we’ve adapted our weekly routine to include regular family nights where we make homemade sushi or fry up crispy hot wings. Think about the math on that for a second. You can order a small box of wings at Domino's and pay an absolute arm and a leg for just a few pieces that arrive soggy. Or, you can spend ten bucks on a big pack of raw chicken at the store, cut them up yourself, and get over twenty pieces out of it. It is way cheaper, and when you deep-fry them right on your own stove in coconut oil and toss them in a sauce you whipped up from scratch, the quality blows fast food out of the water. Sure, it might not have that exact, hyper-processed chemical flavor you get at Wingstop, but you get fresh-off-the-burner, incredibly crispy wings made with love.
Trying something new together with your spouse is just pure fun. It keeps the marriage young. And look, it doesn’t even have to be cooking—it can be absolutely any hobby. My wife and I recently picked up some Magic: The Gathering cards on a whim. Cracking open those packs and playing a few rounds together on the weekends after the kids go to bed has become our new favorite cheap date night. Even just ordering a pizza and putting on a scary movie counts. These small, intentional, low-cost moments build up a massive reservoir of trust. They serve as the solid building blocks you need so that when the bigger, heavier life problems come knocking, you already know how to stand shoulder-to-shoulder.
So here is my challenge to you this week: step out of the routine. Find an activity, a recipe, or a silly project to do together with your spouse and just see what happens to the energy in your home. If you need a quick, easy place to start tonight, try the drawing game. Grab a blank piece of paper and a pen. Draw a single, random line or a small shape, then pass it over to your spouse. Let them add a line, and pass it back. Take turns building onto it without a plan and see what kind of crazy picture you end up creating together. It usually ends up being completely hilarious, and getting each other laughing is sometimes the best medicine there is.
At the end of the day, remember to honor your wife and truly love one another. Forgive your enemies, and remember to forgive yourself for the small mistakes, too. Choose love over anger every single time, and swap loud arguments for firm, calm, loving actions. God bless.
Read the full article on my Medium link: God bless, Ray.

https://medium.com/@lesque0987/stop-fighting-about-the-dishes-and-start-making-them-how-cooking-together-saved-my-marriage-879ca215c39b

I Didn’t Go to Art School and I Think About It More Than I Admit

I used to draw to survive my childhood. Now I am learning it was never meant to stay behind. There was a time when my childhood bedroom wasn’t just a room—it was a refuge from the constant fighting and family trauma. My door would always be closed, and the noise of everything else stayed on the other side of that door. Angry voices, arguments over their relationship. Tension that never really had a name when you’re a kid until you got older and you start to pick things up. It’s just something you feel in your chest and try to outrun for the rest of your life.
So I drew in my closet. Most children had clothes or spare toys. Mine was a workshop. I had a table in there and paintbrushes. Lights and the works. It was the only place things made sense in our home. My pencils scattered across the floor. Papers stacked in uneven piles. Half-finished characters staring back at me like they were waiting for me to finish telling their story. I would sit for hours, completely gone from the world outside my room. Building something quiet inside that chaos. I would paint characters and make hand-drawn animation. I would walk around near the cemetery and library with a sketch pad and draw what inspired me. I would watch how the leaves blew and take it back to my makeshift studio and draw them. Frame by frame, slow and imperfect, but it was mine. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t care. It felt like purpose. A place where there was no fighting.
Somewhere in that same season, I wrote a letter to Hayao Miyazaki. I never sent it and actually still have it. In my mind as a kid sitting in a small room, believing at least for a moment that his art could reach someone across the world who made films that felt like home. Films that were soft, but strong. Quiet, but powerful. The kind of stories that made you feel seen without saying much at all.
Looking back, I used to regret something. The regret of not going to art school. My parents felt they wanted me to stay close. I was so invested, yet went to a local community college that I dropped out of due to required public speaking. At that time I was very shy and did not like presentations and speaking up front. So I dropped that class one day after the drop-off date and they charged me for it. My family wasn't very happy and it made me feel that I would never be successful without a college degree. To be fair, they were just looking out for me and my best future.
My stepdad was the kind of guy that was a great provider. Yet he would never let you forget what you did wrong. I remember as a kid doing something wrong—he always reminded you five years later what it was you did wrong, literally. He had another woman he lived with while he was with my mom. They had my brother, yet she didn’t know about the other woman until that happened. So they would always be fighting everyday about all these things and stuff. One day he would come by happy, then snap. He was great at manipulation and would add you into their fights and ask you questions, and even call our Mom curse words all the time. A lot of stories, yet too long to talk about.
I remember high school graduation and at the end everyone was walking out smiling and finding their parents. Happy and celebrating. I looked around and around and they were in the car fighting. I believe they were trying to beat the crowd, and I understand that, but I’ll never forget that moment that was stolen from me. My heart was so hurt on that car ride home.
Anyways, art was so into my life. I remember he took me to see his buddy, a tattoo artist. He asked me to draw stuff and made fun of me afterwards. So I decided to work harder and harder at art. I would build and modify tattoo machines just for fun. Do elaborate dragons to whatever I was feeling at the time.
There was a funny moment in high school. I was in art class and there was a student teacher. The kid next to me was kinda preppy and all that and a bag of potato chips. Rich dad, most likely. So he drew all this elegant art and the teacher always stopped to admire his work. The student teacher. So I decided one project to get back at him. I drew a pastel castle with a werewolf eating a human in his mouth, full of blood and bones and a half-eaten body. He stopped and just gave me a look of disappointment. It was so great and made my whole semester.
I'm sure I was the weird kid, but being unique to yourself is always best. If I really think about it now at thirty-three, I'm happy I didn't go to art school. I would have never met my wife and had my three children. It seems even now that God has a plan for all of us. I think the message I am trying to show is: no matter where you're at in life or your past experiences, God has you where you need to be. Call it whatever you want, but life always seems to work itself out. Thanks for hearing my short memories I had as an artist today. God bless.

It moves through every trees. Over the wooden plains that most apartments have tooken over. Across your skin quietly. Powerful enough to shake a building. Alive and active. It doesn’t awsnser to a boss or check a clock.

We traded the wind for noise.
Modern life is loud but not in a meaningful way anymore.

It’s not the sound of buzzing winds through trees or water moving over stone and wood. Its the hum of fluorescent lights, the buzz of cell phones, the constant pull of screens telling you where to look, what to think, and what to buy.

We wake up to alarms instead of sunlight.
We eat food that comes from packaging instead of the earth. Packed with dyes and chemicals.
We spend more time under artificial light than under the sky.
Slowly, without realizing it out health and our lack to see what's truly good and bad. To support what is evil as normal. Whats richeous is backwards in society today.

Technology is quietly breaking the family social structure.

This part hits deeper than most people want to admit.
You can sit in the same room with your wife or friend. Even your kids glued to paw patrol or whatever it is and still be somewhere else in that room.
Phone in your left hand and your
Mind in a different world. Over medicated and under educated. These
Moments that should matter missed but someone eating 100 cheeseburgers.

Kids grow up watching their parents stare at screens instead of into their eyes. Conversations get shorter. Patience gets thinner. Real connection gets replaced. More children with melt downs and a crave for suger and more suger.
It doesn’t feel dangerous because it’s normal now.
Normal doesn’t mean healthy.
Families weren’t built on notifications.
They were built on presence and strength.
shared time together solving problems or building something. Real laughter or the
struggle, conversation, silence even boredom together when lights go out during a thunderstorm. A good book by candle light never hurt the mind.
That’s where bonds are formed.

Technology isn’t all bad but when it becomes the center, it slowly pulls people apart without them even realizing it.
One day you look up and wonder why everything feels distant even in your own home. Why nothing done and your house is a mess.

The body knows what the land already taught us.

Your body wasn’t built for endless sitting, scrolling, and rushing.
It was built for movement.
Eat real food I always say. 90 percent clean and yes 10 percent have a cheat day.
Find your rhythm.

The kind of rhythm you don’t have to force.
The land already has it. God created the land for us to enjoy and prosper.

You see it in every season.
You feel it in temperature shifts during the months.
You notice it when you step outside after being inside too long. Something in you just relaxes and settles your heart and mind.
That’s not random phenomenon
That’s your body remembering what god made it to do.

Natural health isn’t a trend it’s a returning to oneself.
People talk about natural health like it’s some new discovery. Don't be tricked into the AI robot ads. Go read a book or research plants.
It’s what we forgot. How to take action for our own self worth. Not saying emergency doctors are not important. Yet wonder why have a headache so much. Stoping eating zebra cakes with a muffin from Starbucks first thing in the morning with your diabetes latte.
Eat real food more.
Clean water.
Sunlight on your skin.
Walking instead of sitting.
Breathing air that hasn’t been recycled through machines.
It’s simple but not easy in a world built on convenience. Be a voice with data centers and question every vaccine.
Because convenience sells.
But it also disconnects our choice.

The 9-to-5 isn’t evil but it can trap you.
Working a job isn’t the problem.
Losing yourself in it is.
There’s a difference between providing for your family and becoming a machine inside a system that never asks who you really are.

Wind In His Hair didn’t live for a schedule.

He lived for his people.
For the land that he was provided for by God.
For something bigger than himself and not that gut that hangs out.

The watchers are everywhere now are you ready?

Cameras on every corner. On your phone. At work. In the grocery stores.
Phones tracking movement.
Algorithms learning behavior from your searches.
You’re seen more than ever but understood less.
Yes maybe how a AI dog dose a flip over a roof. That's cool but is it though?
The strange part is most people don’t question it anymore.
We just accept it. We accept will that just what it is right. I need work 3 jobs just so I can afford my house. Good for you bro but don't think that right.
Something deep inside still resists.
That quiet voice that says.
his isn’t how life is supposed to feel. Am I right?
The land doesn’t lie
The land doesn’t manipulate you into a algorithm.
It doesn’t distract from your daily task and purpose.
It doesn’t rush you around.
You step into it, and it tells you the truth immediately.

If you’re tired you feel it I bet.
If you’re tense you notice it instantly.
If you’ve been disconnected you realize it fast when your stuck in traffic breathing in gas and annoyed by lound thud music huh?
If you stay long enough outside in the land God made it to be.
You will start to come back.

Following the wind again God created.
You don’t have to abandon everything.
You don’t have to move into the mountains or disappear.
But you do have to choose differently.

Put the phone down more especially around your family.
Step outside more.
Eat food that actually came from somewhere real.
Turn off the noise, even if just for a little while.
Move your body like it was designed to move.
importantly
To be present where your feet are beneath you.
Because that’s where life is actually happening.

Because the wind is still there you just got to listen.
We just stopped paying attention that all. Laugh more. Go to the woods or park and just look around.
You’ll understand what Wind In His Hair already knew.
You were never meant to live disconnected.
You were meant to live awake.

Godbless and happy liveing.

The Soul in the Machine
By Raymond Dean Filbeck
Throughout my life I have been fascinated with Japanese culture. Old samurai films to writing my final English paper in college about Japanese tebori. From Japanese swordsmiths like Yasha Yukawa on YouTube to many other traditions like the YouTube star Samurai Matcha. Teaching minimalism and green tea.
The sense and feeling of raw handcrafted objects and ideas just rush my body with excitement and imagination.
As a kid coming back from Hawaii in the 3rd grade I was introduced into Hayao Miyazaki’s work and Princess Mononoke was the first ever film to change my life on the perception of art and hand-drawn animation. The reason for this article is to awaken people and make them aware of all hand craftsmanship and how it is most vitally necessary to hold onto these traditions as we continue our conquest into the digital realm. As we heard of books being torn apart to be digitally scanned by AI companies like Anthropic, and Amazon under a code name called Project Panama. We as writers and all craftsmen by the hand should stand up for what’s right and uphold this thread and values we all share from around the world. Am going to give a brief salute about a few topics and also what we can do as craftsmen by the hand. Ending with prayers and biblical insight of coming into Christ Jesus. Closing with others' thoughts and ideas on how to continue these crafts as we progress into the digital age.
Act 1. Japanese tebori.
In the 7th century tattoos were given to criminals as an act of punishment usually on the arm or face so villagers could recognize a person by their actions.
The rise in ukiyo-e woodblock prints gave birth to tebori in a sense. The name Horishi was developed and it stuck. In the 1820s there were fashionable woodblock prints featuring people with tattoos. That sparked the common man like traders or working class people to get tattoos as a way of showing off their honor or badge.
Not until 1868 was it illegal due to Western influences and it went underground and when tebori was adopted by the gangs of the Yakuza.
After WWII the tattoo ban was lifted by the Americans yet still having the stigma of the Yakuza today. Fun fact. There was a way to work around being tattooed in Japan during the ban and King George V was seeking a tattoo.
Tools:
1. Nomi aka chisel.
2. Sashibo aka poking Stick. Usually made of bamboo or metal in modern times.
3. Hari aka needles. 11 to 42 needles can be held at once almost like a pyramid.
4. Sumi aka ink. Made of animal glue and pine soot more in a form of a block.
5. Suzuri. Grinding block for the ink.
Books for the more interested. Wabori, Traditional Japanese Tattoo by Manami Okazaki.
YouTube link for master Takashi Matsuba featured with Anthony Bourdain in Raw Craft: youtu.be
Act 2. Hand-drawn animation.
In America in the 1920 era a man named Winsor McCay and the creator of the rotoscope Max Fleischer that helped create small comics in 1914. The creation also helped smooth lines that helped create Betty Boop. Jun’ichi Kōuchi and Seitaro Kitayama in Japan used paper cutouts and believe chalkboard for the first style of animation. Walt Disney added technology to the mix and that’s when Snow White and before Steamboat Willie came out in 1928 to 1937. In Japan Kenzo Masaoka was believed to be the man who started it all. Chikara to Onna no Yo no Naka, 1933 was the very start as well as a funded project by the Japanese government during WWII called Momotaro’s Divine Sea Warriors featured in 1945.
Moving a bit forward that’s when American animation like The Simpsons and movies like The Little Mermaid started to come out exploding the new T.V. look and industry.
Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata founded Studio Ghibli in Japan and the movies Princess Mononoke and My Neighbor Totoro came out 1988 and 1997. Really showing off the hand-crafted technique at that time. The end of the cel era in America started in the 2000s and Japan has a mixed approach in honoring hand-drawn and technology for most.
For the more interested in this topic.
Hollywood Cartoons: American Animation in Its Golden Age by Michael Barrier. Floating Worlds: A Short History of Japanese Animation by Maria Roberta Novielli.
Act 3. Industrial Revolution 1760 and 1840.
This is the dawn of a new time for Americans and even the world. That’s when coal and steam energy came out and started in Britain. Fun fact. When clothing and other goods were rolling out with the rise of factories. Then from 1870 to 1914 the electricity, steel, and chemical engineering really started happening. Henry Ford comes into the picture making cars. A huge leap in quick and fast production but destroying cottage good workers and blacksmiths. All together the world has grown a lot from where we started till now.
For more information check out The Creation of Modern Capitalism: How Entrepreneurs, Companies, and Countries Triumphed in Three Industrial Revolutions by Peter L. Bernstein.
Act 4. A.I. and the world.
Starting in the 1950s machines were used for more brain thinking like using logic from humans. The machine could only be given what a human was inputting into it at the time. 1980s machines were given data and more data to be able to recognize simpler things and identify them. 2010 to now machines are now very large language models and Image models, its learned to synthesize human culture even better than anyone ever could imagine. Now it’s almost to a point where people want to know who is behind the photo or video. There is a need to feel that authentic human presence now more than ever. People could literally create anything with just a few typed words. With more and more videos and content pumping out into our social networking and streams.
Act 5. Conclusion, prayer and wrap up.
Heavenly Father, I come before You today with a heart full of gratitude. I lift up my deepest needs to You, knowing that You already see them and care for them perfectly. Lord, I do not wait until the breakthrough appears to praise You; I thank You right now for the answer. I thank You for the miracle that is already in motion. I choose to rest in Your peace, believing with absolute certainty that what I have asked for is already done according to Your perfect will. Strengthen my heart against doubt and fill me with the joy of Your answered prayer. In Your holy name, Amen.
Mark 11:24: "Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours."
Learning all this has really changed my life and believing it’s already been received and given is a great feeling of faith. I like to share it all for anyone who is in need of help and give it to God for God is a rewarder in heaven.
To sum up this article there are a lot of craftsmen out there that I salute to.
I would like to start a channel about saving these crafts called Craftsmen at Hand. If anyone has any ideas or comments regarding this idea feel free to comment or add me on Facebook as Fil Ray. I believe we as artists and craftsmen should step up the heat under what’s going on in the world. If anything you know the feeling when it’s raining out turn off the lights. Light a candle and just write with a feather or yet stick a pencil or glue the feather and just write on real paper. Turn on Harry Potter soundtrack or movie or whatever and just write. We as artists are all connected on one thread one theory and all share the same heartbeat as one. I hope you enjoyed this article down below I have a GoFundMe for hard times also recommend YouTube channels to watch about this article. God bless and keep up the writing fellow writers.
Raymond Dean Filbeck.
gofund.me
Shuna’s Journey by Hayao Miyazaki
Defeating the Demon of Poverty by Francis Myles highly recommended.
Digital Minimalism: Choosing a Focused Life in a Noisy World by Cal Newport
Covenant Economics: A Biblical Vision of Justice for All by Richard Horsley
The best book of them all the Holy Bible.

A Return to What Matters in this moment.

A Return to What Matters in This Moment

This isn’t a story dressed in poetry or metaphors.

This is truth as I’ve lived it as of today. I’m 33 years old, about to be 34. A soon-to-be husband. A father of three. A man who spent years drinking, numbing, and masking the pain of family trauma and relationship pains.

Alcohol doesn’t just take your health and thoughts. It slowly steals your clarity, your purpose, your presence with the people who matter most around you. It steals your dreams and the ability to be around others.

Alcohol doesn’t care how old you are or how successful you are. Doesn’t matter if you’re poor or don’t have a car or job. It can start young and innocent. It can follow you into adulthood like a dark cloud on a sunny day. It sits quietly in your routine while it chips away at your life.

When can I drink, you may ask? After work? When you’re out with friends or family? On vacations? Any excuse to just have one. A trigger from a person that rubs you the wrong way? Any time, anywhere, right?

The commercials make it look cool with the hot girls and the cool-looking guy. Cool cars or a fun nightlife party. Well, it’s not what they make it out to be. I know this because I lived it. Walked it. Took over my life at one point. There were no cool cars or hot girls. If there were, couldn’t remember. Where’s the fun in that?

Not saying don’t drink, but to drink responsibly. Don’t do as the world tells you to do. When your body says enough, listen to it. Don’t be a subject to study about at a hospital or a video someone watches. Don’t be that person where your kids see you in a coffin asking Mommy, “Why is Daddy sleeping?” Don’t be that person.

My aunt was drinking at work and got thrown from her car 50 feet away while driving home. Got saved by a man when she was dying on his farmland in Oklahoma. Couldn’t see the bottom half of her at the showing.

To say the least, there was a moment at work where I genuinely thought I was having a heart attack. My heart was racing. Dizzy, could not walk, and it was a nightmare. I swear this time, Lord, then I drank. Oh, this time, Lord, then I drink. Till one day, this happened. Funny enough, the day before, told God this is the day, and if not, show me a sign. Guess what? I drink, and here we are on the next day.

I have never felt closer to death than I did that day. It was more sobering to realize what true pain and heart racing feels like. I barely made it to a safe place to sit down, and I prayed to God, telling Him to take care of my family when I’m gone. My chest was tight. My body felt off. My mind started racing, almost to the point of blacking out.

And in that moment, I did something that was simple but real for the first time in my life. I called out to Jesus.

Not like before, but in a way of fully surrendering yourself to Him.

Not in a perfect prayer, but in a broken state. Not with polished words. Just honestly, for once in my life, in true horror and desperation. Help me. Just one more chance, please. I have a family to take care of. I can’t go yet.

In that moment, change happened. Not instantly, not magically like a Harry Potter film. It woke me up. It made me realize I wasn’t in control the way I thought I was.

What I felt in return wasn’t fear.

It was clarity.

A quiet but firm understanding that I was made for a purpose and duty. A calling that the good old Lord was saying to me for a long time that I ignored. I felt as Jesus was saying, “What I have for you, you can’t even fathom. There’s more for you than this.”

Bigger than you can even see right now in your current state.

## The Warning Signs We Ignore and Forgot to Address

Alcohol doesn’t always destroy your life overnight.

It works slowly onwards to make it feel normal.

Until one day, you notice that your energy drops and small things make you tired.

Your mind gets foggy, and you can’t recall memories.

Your body starts sending signals with how puffy you are or bruising real easily. You’re not hungry anymore as you used to be.

Your relationships weaken, and people ask you who you are or you change.

Your purpose fades, and all that seems real now, only feels real as a drink.

It keeps going because it’s the only way to feel normal.

Feeling tired all the time isn’t normal.

Feeling disconnected isn’t normal.

Living without direction isn’t normal.

We were made for more than that drank.

## Signs, Faith, and Paying Attention to the World and Spiritual World Around You

During that same week, on day 3 from my spiritual attack of dying and awakening, a random tree caught on fire at work. A random tree, and it was so bizarre.

Out of nowhere, really. Most people would brush that off. Just another odd event. But for me, it stuck. It reminded me of something deeper from the story of Moses and the burning bush.

A moment where God gets your attention. I’m not here to argue signs or force meaning onto anyone. But I will say this. When you start seeking God, you start noticing things differently. Boy, oh boy, this was like the Twilight Zone. Even a person walking by said, “It’s Moses and the burning bush,” then it clicked.

Oh my gosh, this is a sign from God.

## Healing Isn’t Just Physical; It’s Mental

Since stepping away from alcohol, I’ve started to notice real changes in my life.

My body is healing better than I imagined, thanks to God.

My skin looks better, and I lost a lot of weight. Starting to look like my old self again. My energy is coming back, and I can move quicker than ever before.

My mind is clearer than ever.

My connection to my family is stronger, and my kids are calmer, and my wife’s is more closer than ever.

But more than anything.

My relationship with God is real now. More stronger than ever.

## Sunshine, Food, and the Simple Things in Life

Healing didn’t just come from quitting alcohol. It came from returning to what’s natural.

Being outside in the sun more.

Eating real, whole foods.

Moving my body, skateboarding, swimming, staying active, and being able to skate longer and swim harder.

Slowing down enough to actually feel life again.

These things sound simple, but they matter more than people realize when you drink your life away for so long. We’ve complicated life so much that we’ve forgotten how to live it.

## Becoming Who You’re Called. Stepping Into Momentum.

I’m not done. Not even close.

I’m still working a job that challenges me every day.

Still figuring things out.

Still growing.

Now I know where I’m going, and it feels great.

I want to become a Japanese swordsmith as a foreigner.

I want to farm and live closer to the land and grow my own food before it’s taken away by the government.

I want to write and share truth with others and be that person watching the rain with an old man’s pipe, writing a story. Being able to own my own time, not a time clock or boss who doesn’t care about me.

I want to live a life rooted in discipline, faith, and purpose and share it with others to watch them succeed.

And yeah, I still skateboard at 33 when my childhood friends don’t. Not a flex, but I’m still going, baby!!!!

Because growth doesn’t mean losing who you are. It means refining it to someone better.

## This Is What Keeps Me Going Now

It’s not just one thing.

It’s everything that matters now.

My beautiful stay-at-home wife that makes everything homemade, practically. That follows my leadership.

My kids that bang on the window after work, excited to see me. Wanting to play Legos.

The responsibility to lead my family well and lead the people who inspire me right now.

The people I might help just by telling them the truth. Not the worldly truth, but biblical truth and wisdom.

Above all,

Thank you, Jesus!!! My Lord and Savior. Amen.

My foundation.

## The Truth About Change That Needs to Be Heard

You don’t need to have everything figured out to change your life. Am still at my low-paying job, struggling daily. Still dreaming and still trying.

Honestly, you just need to be willing to submit to Him. To admit you don’t have control over everything in life. To ask for help when help is needed, especially as a man. To take one step in the right direction and to never look back.

Jesus doesn’t just improve your life.

He transforms it, like He’s doing to me.

Doesn’t mean your tire won’t be flat for tomorrow morning’s work commute. Or your bank account’s negative 100 dollars. Just means you found your truth.

## Final Word

Alcohol will take from you. It will never give back.

Slowly. Quietly. Completely, if you let it.

The demons and spirits in the bottle. Don’t let them get you.

Through faith.

Discipline.

Returning to Jesus.

If you’re at that point where your body is warning you, your mind is tired, and your soul knows something has to change, and there’s a life out there, I ask you to communicate with God.

If anything, just put down the drink for a few days. Limit yourself less and less. There’s more help out there than you know.

Capture your dreams and keep dreaming.

Don’t ignore this. That moment might be the beginning of everything. It may be right under your nose, and you’re just waiting to itch it.

God bless you all, and thanks for hearing my story.

In the old ways of Edo, a swordsmith

would rise before the sun touched the mountains top peaks. The air would still be cold, untouched by the noise of men. Echos of birds calls and the fresh wind. He would wash his hands, steady his breath, and approach the fire not as a laborer but as a servant of something greater that was being created in the fire.
To craft a blade of this callibar was not merely to shape steel as seen on the history channel. It is the discipline of the body through purifying the mind, and align the spirit.
Impuritys have no place in this process.

The iron was chosen with care. The water was clean from the local stream or mountain. The hands were steady. And the heart
above all was quietly ready to work.
Whatever entered the forge would be carried into the blade just like our bodies.

I think about this very often now, living in a world far removed from that stillness. A world of noise, speed, and pressure. A world where decisions are pushed, not contemplated. Where conformity is praised more than conviction itself.
I have made a choice that some do not understand years ago.

I am not COVID vaccinated.

This is not out of rebellion for rebellion’s sake. Not out of hatred for anyone or this is right or this is wrong. Not out of ignorance. But from a place of conviction of stewardship over my own body, and trust in something deeper than fear you seen on TV.

As an American, I hold the right to speak, to choose my thoughts and to stand firmly as I chose to be. That right is not comfortable at times. Espically working at a hospital currently. It is not always welcomed. But it is mine that I made risking it all for a simple choice.
I will not trade it for approval.

I see the world differently now. I walk through stores and observe people. not to judge, but to understand. Carts filled with food that weakens the body. Sugar disguised as comfort. Chemicals disguised as convenience. A quiet surrender happening aisle by aisle by everyday people.
I ask myself.
When did we stop guarding what enters our bodies?
Was it the commercials or that person on Instagram eating 50 cheese burger for clicks? Was it a culture thing? Is it a childhood thing or Somethings more deeper.

The swordsmith would never allow corrupted steel into his forge. Yet we allow corrupted habits into our daily lives without question.

This is not about perfection. I am not perfect. But I am awake to the responsibility of my actions.

Takeing care of one's body as something sacred.
Not blindly followed by everyones else's habbits. To have awareness of what your actually eating. Questioning not from pride or ego from our hearts but from sense of duty and purpose. Has society really fallen off this path so deeply?

My faith in Jesus is not separate from this as well. It is the center of it all in my daily life. I believe my body is not just mine to do with as I please. It is something entrusted to me. A temple, not a tool for convenience all the time as the world says it should be.
Trust does not mean recklessness.

It means I do what I can to eat better, move my body, stay aware of things being said on TV and then I place what I cannot control into His hands.

That is not weakness.
That is faith.

In Edo, the blade that left the forge carried the mark of the man who made it. That Smith's master and there master passed down. His discipline. His patience. His choices. It takes 5 years to become a swordsmith in Japan. It takes 5 minutes to get a burger from McDonald's and you tell me the difference here. Where is the learning or understanding. Really think a 5 minutes burger is good for you? Get out of here.

What we consume, what we accept, what we allow into our lives it shapes us.
Not all at once.
But slowly.
Quietly destroying our mind and mental health.

Until one day, we either stand firm like tempered tamahgana steel.
Or we bend without resistance. Looking 50 in your 30s. Can't breath walking up the steps. Watching netflex with your taco bell 3 days a week till look down at your gut at the pool. Not saying being big is unhealthy but it can be depending on how you shape your life. For example I was at work and a doctor could not bend down. Yes there is medical problems someone can have and I understand that. Yet he's young said nothing about that and said can't do that am getting old. He's 40s. My wife mother almost 60 and dose yoga looks late she's in her 40s. Movement of one's self. Food you put in your body on a daily basics. Prayer. Where is your hope and determination. Your Instagram reel of that couple with the water front house is not going save you. You do not see the hard work that's a 20 second short shows do you? Yet to continue this opinion.
I have decided to chose my own path.
Being honest.
Not to divide but to stand.
Not to believe everything I hear or see.

like the swordsmith before the flame, I will continue to refine what I can control in my body, my mind, my spirit and my trust God with the rest. in the end of all this .
The forge does not lie.
It creates. What are you creating in your life today? Thank you

Ray.

You’re behind in life and everyone around you is highly successful. Doctors, nurses, techs. You should be more like them and make money.
You’re just this: the cleaner.
There’s another voice too that I try to listen to.
Quieter in fear.
Stronger in ambition.
Just steady affirmations and prayers to the Man above. Just keep going.
I don’t always understand it due to my situation. I know where it leads but try to get there with no signs of progress.
At night, after work when everything settles down, I’ll put something on to watch. Usually an old samurai film. Not the flashy kind waving around a sword. The slower ones with wisdom. The ones where nothing happens for a while and you’re probably asleep by then. Men who speak less but mean more. It’s a hard pill to listen to when the loudest at work are always loud and making thousands. Yet discipline is in their posture. Not an ego pep in your step like many up there. Purpose in silence. It’s a forgotten, different kind of strength in my opinion. There’s something about it that hits me deep.
Not because I want to be them per se.
It’s mainly because it reminds me of something I feel inside.
Something older than all of this.
Something more real than modern times.
Somewhere along the way, that feeling turned into action recently.
I remember sitting there, my phone in my hand.
Typing out a message.
Deleting it and scared.
Rewriting it so I don’t look like an idiot.
Again and again overthinking, as usual.
I was reaching out to a real swordsmith. Someone who had actually stepped into that world I could barely even explain to people around me. It feels ridiculous as a Missourian young man in the United States.
Who was I? I ask myself.
A guy working in a hospital.
Cleaning floors.
Trying to provide for my family.
Still figuring out how to be a man, a father, a husband, and closer to God.
And yet I still sent it, seeking advice.
Not because I was ready, but because something in me refused to stay quiet.
That’s the part people don’t see.
The outside is simple:
Work.
Bills.
Responsibilities.
Repeat.
But inside?
There’s something else.
A pull.
Toward God. Not just belief, but in the depths of the soul for belonging and purpose.
And alongside all of that?
This strange, unexplainable calling toward craftsmanship.
Toward fire.
Toward building something with your hands that actually means something.
A sword.
A tool.
A piece of artwork that can bring the best out of you.
A piece of discipline shaped over time.
Then there’s the other side of it. The life I’m actually living. Three kids. A stay-at-home wife, making less than 35k a year in a world where everything seems like a price tag. A home that needs me. There’s no pause button on that. No escape. No "I’ll figure it out later."
There are nights I come home exhausted.
Body drained.
And still in Dad mode.
Still showing up.
Still trying to be present to myself, my family, and most importantly, God.
Still trying to love well even when I feel empty inside.
In the middle of all of this spiritual warfare, I still show up and even skateboard, write, and dream. Not just because I’m trying to hold onto past adventures, but because it reminds me of something true.
You fall.
You get back up.
You try again.
There’s no ego in it.
Concrete doesn’t care who you think you are. It just reveals it.
Work humbles you.
Skating humbles you.
Life humbles you.
And maybe that’s the point of life itself.
I’ve started to see something more and more these days. Something I didn’t quite understand before.
Maybe I’m not stuck.
Maybe I’m being shaped.
The sword isn’t forged in comfort.
It’s forged in fire.
Folded.
Heated.
Hammered.
Again and again.
Not destroyed, but refined.
When I stop to think about it like that, everything changes sometimes.
The long shifts.
The feeling of being overlooked.
The tension between who I am and who I feel I am called to be.
It’s not meaningless to dream. It’s a process in the making of all this chaos. God isn’t just waiting for me at the end of some perfect version of life. He’s here with me now. In the repetition. In the quiet. In the moments where no one sees anything. Something is still happening that we cannot see, but we feel it in our bones.
So I tell you this: keep going. Not because it’s easy, but because I believe there’s something being built.
Maybe one day I’ll stand in a small workshop of my own. Fire in front of me. Steel in my hands, not a mop. Living a life that right now only exists in glimpses between long nights and early mornings with a mop in my hand. A farm to grow and a book to write with a Gandalf pipe.
Or maybe, I’ll realize that I was never as far away as I thought I was. That the discipline I am chasing everyday—this man I was trying to become—was being forged the whole time.
Between the mop and the mountain of hope.
Maybe that’s where God meets us most. Not when we’ve arrived, but while we’re still becoming.

Introduction.
The battlefield for men has changed in 2026. The sword is no longer always in our hands. Many battles are hidden behind a screen, behind a smile, behind a locked door.

Too many men are struggling with their health, their purpose, their identity.

We live in a world where a few swipes on a phone can create the illusion that everyone else has a perfect life.

This is not a message of shame. It is a call to awaken. A call to pick up the sword again. This is where the forge begins.
The mountain was beginning to be wrapped in cold mist. To the East a winter storm was coming.
Not the kind of storm
that moves quicky but like a thief in the night. Slowly waiting for it's opportunity. Quiet,
Heavy. Watching. It makes a man feel cold even before he can ever speak what truly on his own mind.

Below this most beloved mountain. The Japanese sea roared against the black stones.
Relentless. Ancient. Alive ready to consume whoever In it's war path.
Waves crashed like ponyo running towards sosuke like giants that reached cliffs, rising and falling with a rhythm. For a moment my eyes just saw something beneath the surface. Massive. Moving. A shadow twisting through the deep like a forgotten Serpent creature from the Bible.
A sea beast.
A demon?
Or maybe just a dream trying to surface from my wakeing life.
Sometimes what we think we see in the distance is really just something inside us eating at our soul.
I stood there just breathing.
My Hands cold as the eastern air. My Mind louder than the oceans anger.

Men don’t talk about that part.
The constant noise of the world and the battles he faces for the sake of others and his family.
The bills that are due. The car that needs fixed. The men he has to fight as a leader to protect his women and children.

Am I enough?
Am I failing them?
Why do I feel like I’m drowning when am giving it my all.
The sea answered with another crash.
Not with words.
But the harsh truth of today's reality.
You don’t outrun what’s inside you.
You must face it head on.
Today's world with more and more men over weight, sexless, alcohol abuses, identity crisis and a all time low of male testrome. Suicide at a all time high. Social medias fake expectations of how life
Should look with only a few swips to a touch of a new partner. Go read a book and build a empire I say.
This is my metaphor of my journey to being a man in 2026. Take it or leave it.

The forge is always waited behind me. No matter the weather or how I feel inside. i's always ready for me. There always work to be done for others. The sacrifice to feed your family and friends. Your ego doesn't matter only the forge that feeds your family.
Pine charcoal ready at my disposals. Chopped and sorted by my disciples few hours ago.
Simple. Yet a Honest profession.
I stepped inside and began lighting the pine.
This blade I was about to birth was a unique one. One that's not just a normal sword but for a leader that stood up for his principals and family and his way of life to the end. It's was for Katsumoto.

A man of discipline. A man of stillness. A man the modern world would call too rigid and courageous. A man that got shit done and did what he had to do. He wasent worried about getting his pretty war helmet dirty. Or his 100 dollar sandels wet was he? The world no longer understands men back then. Who refused to conform. Stood up for what was right and help the needy. Not open there phone seeing some one hurt to record them to post on TicTok. A hand given when needed.

I wasn’t forging this sword for tradition alone.
I was forging it under the authority of Jesus Christ.
Because even the strongest warrior needs a foundation that doesn’t crack when all seems like it's cracking beneath his feet.

The tamahagane steel meets the fire warmingly.
Orange turns to yellow. Then nearly white. Small sparks flashing in the air.
Alive.
That’s when it truly begins.
Not when it’s comfortable like your MacDonalds sandwich.
Not when life is smooth as your algorithm.
But when the heat really starts to turns up.
Men in 2026 are burning out quietly.

We carry pressure without calm language most of the time.
Stress without releaseing it in a healthy way.
Expectations without guidance.
We scroll instead of speaking the truth and how we feel.
We distract instead of deal what needs to be dealt with.
We isolate instead of confessing to God.
Then we wonder why the weight keeps getting heavier.

The hammer fell on the Advil.
Each strike with purpose and precision to flatten out the steel.
You can’t forge a blade without removing impurities.
Become a man of strength without facing trials.
Anger you never dealt with that you hold onto till you explode.

The fear you pretend isn’t there when you leave your front door.
Shame you cover with silence as people mock you.
The world says hide it and suck it up.

Jesus Christ says this.
“Bring it to me.”
That’s the difference between a worldly man and a man of God.

Outside, the sea roared louder and it started snowing.
For a second, I saw it again that shape beneath the ocean.
Long and Moving. Watching me.
But this time I didn’t feel fear when I seen it.
I recognized it this time and took accountability for what my eyes was given in me.
Every man has something beneath the surface worth sharing.
Something he avoids naming what needs to be named.
Call it a monster. Call it a burden. Call it his past.
But ignoring it doesn’t kill it. It kills the person it's hosting and that's you itself.
It feeds into your stomach and digestion. Making you sick at your work break lunch.

The old way of the samurai spoke of honor above all.
Discipline. Loyalty. Compassion.
But without God, control becomes a prison.
Because a man trying to hold everything together eventually breaks. He becomes a wild beast un able to control himself. Or he withers away like fall leaves to a winter storm.
That’s where the world gets it wrong.
Strength is not holding it all in.
Strength is knowing where to lay it down.
At the feet of Jesus Christ.
The only one strong enough to carry it.

I folded the steel again and again.
Each fold removing weakness. Each strike adding integrity. It was time to qunch in the cool mountain stream water I had in my bucket.
That’s the process men try to skip.
We want purpose without pressure.
Peace without surrendering.
Identity without refining.
Learning to qunch your hurt.
But God doesn’t build men in comfort.
He builds them in truth and trials before the cool sensation.
Truth doesn’t always feel good to the heart and the mind.
But it sets you free when you starve the spirit.

As I hammered the flatten tamahgana I collected the pieces and sorted them. Some perfect some made for other things.
I forged the handle and stack my broken pieces and wrapped it in paper. Poured clay over it and set it in the fire.

Men who admit they’re tired finds rest.
Men who admit they need God find him.
Men who stop pretending they have it all together.
Finds solutions.
That’s where healing begins.

The fire dimmed.
From chaos to clarity.
From fire to form.
Men need that moment more than anything.
stillness with God is everything.

Sometime has past and I
Held the finished blade in my hands. Katsumoto stood before me now, I wouldn’t tell him now to follow the old code alone in 2026.
I would tell him to
Let your honor bow to Christ
Because honor without grace becomes to harsh.
Discipline without love becomes cold and forgettable.
Strength without God becomes hollow and with out purpose.

Outside, the mist hadn’t lifted yet after many days.
The sea hadn’t changed as well.
Maybe that’s the whole point of life itself.
Life doesn’t always get easier at times.
A man can become steadier and ready for the hard times and joyous in the good.

Men in 2026 don’t need to become legends like movie stars on TV.
They need to become anchored in the situation they have around them first.
You’re not weak for feeling the weight of hardships. Your getting stronger by facing your fears and building something better.
You’re not failing because you don't see the results in a day. Most people don't even start. Stop comparing yourself to others especially on social media.
Keep your head held high and have faith in the Lord.

The monster no longer felt like something to fear.
It's something that finally got faced head on.
And that changes everything.
God bless.

The sky was filled with fire.

It's was a very quiet day and the people felt like something was off. The government seemed up to something as usual but this time it seemed more then usual for day to day living. More then taxes and inflation forced down your throat and all the stuff you see on the news with wars and some new virus taking over the world nothing like that. No something more sinister was coming and I could feel it down to my bones.

It felt more irie and more disturbing. The silence filled the outside air like a vacuum. People began to go outside and look at the sky in scarcity and confusion. People began to pack there things and go to churches or safe homes even leaveing town.

I decided to go to local church to feel a bit of security before this shit hits the fan. I left everything I had at my home. All that hard work and 80 hours a week of hell for nothing. The church was jam packed. Drunks, drug addict and the annoying couple with too many kids running around screaming there heads off. I took a big sigh and walk towards the pastor at the front entrance.
Is there enough room for me to stay here for a while till this all cools down I asked. Certainly replied the pastor right this way... He hesitants for a moment. He's probably going ask for my name but I gave him a dim look and he smiled then smirked. Right this way umm yeah right. He whispered under is breath with his head down to the floor.Right this way sir he replied looking up at me I sign and continue to walk forward through the doors forgetting about the screaming kids and people and took my seat next too the back row. A oversized man and women sit down the row eating pizza and drinking big gulps like nothing was ever happening. Gross I thought.
Would you like some cold water or refreshments he replied. No.. no... I think I'll be fine for now thank you I replied. Oh wait I said. Is there a smoking section I asked. He stops me before I finish smoke mid sentence and glared at me. Sir this is a church if you like to smoke please go outside off the property he said looking at me with disappointment. With one big smile he walked away. I slump in my seat. what's the big deal over a cigarette the world about to freaking end anyways I mummered under my breath. Did you say something sir he asked. No I smartly said. Some time has past and my stomach started to rumble. Hey doc I mean pastor I chuckle. How about those fine dining refreshments you was talking about I asked still chucking. Well yes one moment please. He started heading towards the back room. Suddenly a rumble happen beneath my foot like a earthquick was starting to happen. People started screaming and the pastor yelled quite let's be quiet and trust the Lord let us pray. What about my food I yelled. The pastor death stated me and began to say. Dear heavenly Father. Rumble, Suddenly the rumble was even more intense then ever and the walls started shaking and the windows started to crack. There about to break some one yelled. Everyone take cover. People panicking and pushing each other out of the way under there seats. Animals I replied. The church shook even more so hard that the glass did break and the seats was rocking back and forth. Everyone stay calm yelled the pastors. People ignored his remarks. screaming and freaking out crying out loud begging for this to stop. Then suddenly it did. It was like a light switch. People slowly peeked out from under there chairs. Was it just a earth quick one person remarked. You see everything is just fine have faith replied the pastor.
As people started to stand up again boom a giant astroned looking thingy I think hit the sides of the church slamming the couple against the shredded glass cutting there bodies and ripping there arms to shreds. As crys and dark red blood pooled on the floor the pastored yelled. Someone help them and get some towls to stop the bleeding. People panicking rushing to the towl drawer in the back ketchine. Suddenly more astroids began showering down like fire balls hitting the church and the world around it. People panicking and running for cover and outsode the church doors outside. Bad idea I thought. People was catching on fire running around like chickens with there heads up off. The two fat tards next me lay in there fast food pizza in a pull of blood with there heads bashed in. People who was on fire started to catch the church on fire. The blazeing curtains and Soft silky walls in flames by there burning bodies. Everyone outside the pastor yelled. A scramble of half deformed people running through the front door like a pack of sardines some missing there arms and blood stained there short. Mr.... Um whatever help escort these people out the pastor replied. Do I look like a security guard to me I yelled back at him. Dame it I thought. This is bullshit. I quickly help the couple with the screaming kids safety out the door and use my body to shield them from the fire. Burns began to form on my arms and backs sizzling away like a summer BBQ hot dog on a hot Summer day. Let's go people I said. Escorting what I could saveing family after family
Intell I notice all that was not dead was out of the church. Let's go pastor we ran out the burning church and it collapsed shortly after. Looking at the flames and dark ash that filled the sky. The smell of burning hair filled the air. What's that smell said a kid. Just the wood and paint from the church I remarked giving him a fake smile. Knowing in my mind it what the smell of burning human flesh.
Where do we go now some said. What about my father he's still in there someone said in panic. My dog where's fluffy. Now everyone stay calm said the pastor. There a sister building we can go to it about 5 miles up town. Now you Mr.... The pastor look at me said. It's Zack I replied. Well Zack finally nice to know your name mysterious man. Shut up I replied I just help you move all these people out of all this shit. Thank he replied. Well on we go people. People looked at each other and shrugged.

As we moved along to find this sister City for refuge. I Could not help not to notice how quit the town was you could here a pin drop. Some buildings was smashed. Cars where abonded. Groceries stores ransacked from all its food and basic needs. The sky was dark as ash black but still enough for the sun to help you see.
Am hungry a child said. Dose anyone know how to hunt or make a fire someone said. We all look around at each other. No. No. The group replied. I though it's funny how we are so use to convince and when things go down how depending we are to the modern world. It's all made by design for these moments Zack replied. Let's keep going about three more miles the pastor said find anything useful along the way.
As we all walked following the pastor someone notice a walking person few feet away. Is that a survivaer someone asked. Hey some one yelled. Will you be quit we don't know if this person is going hurt us or not Zack replied. Now now we are here to help those that are hurt said the pastor. As we got closer I noticed the moving person did not seem like a person at all. It walked more like a dog yet it stood up walking like a human. I don't know about this guy's it could be a bear someone said. Let's go find out two young men replied. Willing to be a leader and take risk these hot headed teen ran off that direction. Wait said the pastor they ignored his remarks. We going to be heros and save these people one teen replied to the other. Bunch of jackasses Zack replied with his hands pushing in his eyes balls.
As the teen boys reach closer to the person they slowly stop there victory run of assness to a slow walk observeing what there seeing. Hey you over there are you ok one teen yelled. The person got on all floor walking toward them.

By Raymond Filbeck.

Grandma’s house, a wandering soul, and the quiet strength I didn’t understand yet.
Inspired by ruroni Kenshin 1996 anime.

There’s a unique smell we all remember as a kid growing up. It could be at your grandparents house. Your childhood friends house or your own. Memories link themselves in our mind with smell in the air or the items we touch and even our taste. As we get older we link that nostalgic memories and comfort in our minds. I still remember the
Old carpet texture on my feet and the warmth of a small fire stove in the hallway. The giant pine tree that is 300 feet tall that was planted before I was even born. My grandparents told me a man next door planted it with just a few seeds. He was no longer alive I believe when I was born.
Lots of treehouses where built on that old fine
tree. Tooken over by the youth of the next generational neighborhood kids. I myself was one of them.
In the morning there was a faint mix of coffee in the air at 3am. Something cooking slow in the kitchen from my grandfather. The early bird he was rasieng before the sun came out and I was up with him most of the time drinking coffee way to early as a child.
Rice poriage and bacon and eggs was a staple there. If you was lucky homemade potato smash patties. Just the thoughts now brings my mouth watering of remerberence.
The soft hum of a 90s TV that stayed on longer than it should.
I was young maybe 11 maybe 12 if I remember correctly.
Didn’t think much about life yet. Didn’t think about sin, or discipline, or becoming a man.
I just knew that when I stayed at my grandparents house on the weekends something felt so magical. The Iove and warmth of family.
Spooky there pet bird that bites you if you don't watch out. Lays classic chips and soda pop watching cartoons and playing video games the list gose on and on.

That’s where I first watched him.
A red haired wanderer with a sword he refused to use the way it was meant to be used before his vow to never to kill again.
Not weak but restrained.
Not passive but controlled.
“I will never kill again." He vowed.
At that age, it sounded cool. I don't know how this show came to be. All I know I had the DVD to watch.
Now it sounds heavy metaphorically speaking.
I didn’t understand then what I was really watching.
It's not just a ruroni story of redemption of attoning for ones sins of the past
But a man at war with himself due to his past.
A man who had already lived a life of violence and blood shed for a new age of peace.
He chosen, every single day after, to walk a different path.
That hits different when you’re older. Reality or not.
Because now I know what it feels like to have habits you regret and or so hard to stop.
Words you wish you didn’t say.
Reactions that come too fast.
Now as a young adult I understand that
Anyone can pick up the sword and swing it.
Very few can put it down. Takes courage and constant discipline of one's mind.
Especially if your so used to doing something that comes natrual good or not.
There’s a moment before the reaction.
I feel it at work sometimes even.
Mop in my hand. Early morning. Body tired. Mind racing.
Something small happens from hour to hour. Coworker says something wrong to you. Something doesn’t go your way and makes more work then it actually is.
Suddenly there it is.
That old pull.
That urge to react. To snap. To become who you used to be or what your impulsis tell you to do and say.
But I’ve been learning something more recently.
The real training isn’t out there.
It’s right there in that moments.
I think about how a samurai would train. not only a samurai but any deciplined warrior when really think about it now. Even people from my faith. Jesus and his disciples all of it.
Not just sword strikes from day in and day but stillness in one's heart.
Kneeling in silence before the sunshines on the morning summers grass.
Breathing slowly through ones nose, letting the chest expand and fall again.
Holding posture even when the legs begin to tremble and feel weakened. All of this has really got me focused lately.

Short yoga exercises if desired skip to journey continues to continue story.

Mountain pose standing tall, feet grounded, spine lifted.
Like a tree that doesn’t move just because the wind tells it to.
Low lunge with a twist opening the chest, looking back, releasing what’s behind you without running from it.
Seated stillness eyes half closed, hands resting, breath steady.
Learning to sit with yourself without distraction.
This is the real discipline.
Not violence.
Control over one's self

Journey continues.

I didn’t know it back then, sitting in my grandparents living room.
But something was planting a seeds that would sprout later in years.
Not just from the storys or movies I watched.
Its from the stillness of that place alone.
Safe. Quiet. Unrushed.
It felt peaceful.
Maybe that’s why it stayed with me.
Because deep down, even as a kid, I think I recognized something true that few kids get to experience in today's time.

Strength doesn’t always look loud or flashy nor being above someone else. It's the quiet help and sacrifice of oneself for others happyniess. In hine sight
years later working, raising kids, walking through my own struggles from this path.
I see it clearer and better then ever eatch day. It's like a piece of the puzzle makes more sense.
That wandering swordsman wasn’t just avoiding violence. He was carrying conviction.
Choosing a harder path.
A narrow one with the repentance of the absolute for his soul and heaven sake.
And it reminds me of something greater when times get tough. A example of many on how to live among life and treat others.
Christ didn’t call us to react like the world.
He called us higher.

“But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other also.” Matthew 5:39.

That’s not weakness.
That’s self control
That’s choosing obedience over instinct.
That’s laying down the sword even when you know how to use it. There is a time and place for defense but in most senerio it more uncommon.
I used to think being a man meant being ready to fight to quick and a lound Mouth to intimadate. A 300k a year job and a fast car.
Now I think it means being ready not to.
To hold your tongue when it's ready to cut.
To steady your breath when it's ready to burst.
To stand firm without striking back unless absolutely necessary. Also training oneself to be ready.

One thing to think about is carrying your past without letting it control your hands. Learning to forgive yourself and others. Not to far in the future and firm in the here and now because tomorrow never promiseing.

Sometimes I still think about that living room.
The light coming through the window.
The quiet hum of the TV.
A kid sitting there, not knowing why it all felt important at that time.
Maybe that was the beginning. Maybe it wasn't.
Maybe God plants things early
through stories, through moments, through stillness. Through the people we meet and the life lesson and experiences we gain. We only understand them later during reflection or like me discovering the live action of ruroni Kenshin on netflex. Causing a flood of memories.
So now, when that moment comes.
When the old self rises.
When the reaction is right there.
I try to remember:
“I will never kill again.”
Not just with a sword.
But with my words.
My anger.
My reactions to the world around me. It will never be perfect and I may slip up from time to time. Ones thing for sure now. The strongest man in the room isn’t the one who swings first. It's not the loudest or who has the name brand clothing.
It’s the one who chooses not to. Yes be yourself but for the pure reason of being you and to inspire and lead other in happyniess and encouragement. There success in there pursuit of happiness. To teach Jesus commandments and if any how to treat one another.
And in that choice alone the world will change.
There is something sacred being this way.
Something disciplined. It's a pureness all by itself.
Thank you God bless.

A Wanderer’s Meal.
Simple Japanese Hot Pot (Nabe)
Warmth for the body, stillness for the soul enjoy.

There is a kind of meal that doesn’t demand attention.
It doesn’t try to impress like gorden Ramsey or a commercial.
It doesn’t come in excess.
It simply nourishes the soul and body.
If I think of a wandering man like Kenshin. Someone who chose a simple life, who stayed where he was welcomed, who never took more than he needed.
This is the kind of food I see in my imagination when thinking about it.
A small pot.
Steam rising.
Quiet gratitude.
Laughing happy family and friends gathered.
Let's dive in so you may share and enjoy with others.

Simple ruroni Kenshin anime inspired Style Hot Pot (Nabe).
This is not luxury.
This is enough.

Ingredients

2 cups dashi broth or simple chicken and vegetable broth.
1 handful napa cabbage chopped.
1/2 cup firm tofu cubed.
1/2 cup mushrooms. Shiitake if you can.
Thin slices of chicken or steak or keep it vegetarian.
1 green onion, sliced
Splash of soy sauce
Optional. A small handful of noodles or rice.
Japanese daikon radishone of Kenshin humira favorite or it seems.

Instructions.
1. Bring your broth to a gentle simmer.
2. Add cabbage first let it soften slowly.
3. Add tofu, mushrooms, and protein.
4. Let everything cook together no rushing.
5. Finish with green onion and a light splash of soy sauce.
Eat it hot.
Simple bowl delicious bowl.

The practice
Before you eat your yummy hot pop and Bing watch some anime.
First pause and breath in reflection.
Look at the steam rising from your bowl.
This is what it means to be present.
This is what it means to receive, not just consume.
Kenshin once said.
“Whatever you lose, you’ll find it again. But what you throw away you’ll never get back.”
There was a time I threw away stillness.
Reacted too fast to situations.
Spoke too quickly and hurt the ones Ioved.
Lived without thinking.
But God has a way of bringing things back around.
Even through something as small as a memory in
a quiet house.
an old TV that always on.
A wandering swordsman is always in my mind.

A closing prayer.

Lord Jesus,
Thank You for meeting me in both the loud moments and the quiet ones.
Thank You for the memories that shaped me before I even understood them.
For the lessons hidden in stories, in stillness, in simple things.

Teach me to be slow to anger.
Steady in my spirit.
Disciplined in my actions.

Help me to lay down the sword of the world and
not just in my hands,
but in my words, my reactions, and in my heart.

Guide me to walk the narrow path.
To choose peace when it’s hard.
To reflect You in the way I live each day.
And in all things
even in rest, even in food, even in silence.
let my life bring You glory and joy to other.

Amen.

Eat slow. Breathe deep. And remember
the path isn’t about becoming someone new.
It’s about choosing, daily,
who you refuse to be again.

Thank you Ray.