Whens

A different kind of post

Jan 30, 2025

river photography — Photo by Niklas Weiss on Unsplash

Wonderful people (yes, that’s you), so many more of you than I ever would have expected have graciously given me your time and honored me with your readership and thoughtful comments. When I could finally name why it was I wanted to write poetry and what the purpose of sharing a newsletter was, it ultimately came down to a desire for meaningful engagement with meaningful ideas. It’s always been about conversation. But conversation is more than sending off showers of digital spittle.

As I see it, I could continue sending you notes from behind this screen of blue light and anonymity, or I could make an attempt to put a little flesh to Awaking Dragons, namely mine. Though I may not have the privilege of shaking all your hands, I hope you’ll humor me sharing a little about myself—the face behind the newsletter—and I hope you’ll share something about yourself in turn, whether your “why” for writing, a habit you’re wanting to cultivate, or maybe just your favorite comfort food.

Though poetry and essay writing have become some of my favorite ways to process ideas (ok, they’re pretty much the only way this introvert processes ideas), helpful creative outlets, and even necessary spiritual disciplines, my current alter ego is that of a business analyst. Of course, that term means exactly a million things all dependent on context, so it really means nothing at all.

In practice I’m a technologist and growing software developer. I was not trained in this, but like many things in life (poetry, for example) I seem to have fallen into it and done enough good to be kept around.

I feel an existential tension in my bones many a day: It’s thrilling and even a bit poetic to take a blank page, fill it with precisely-chosen characters (scratch it, rework it, fine-tune it until it sings), and to have the end result be something that empowers and enriches someone else’s life, if only for a short time. I love that aspect of my job. But I have no desire to make our world spin any faster than it already is on its own. Productivity as an end unto itself is an empty one, if you ask me.

I like all kinds of music, but I often listen to EDM while I’m working to keep myself focused and the energy high. But I confess: Sometimes the energy-focus tension slips, and my desk space is transfigured, becomes a dance space 😎

In light of this confession, let me assure you I work from home most days. Wouldn’t want to make any coworkers jealous of the moves. You understand.

I’ll never claim to be a good dancer, but I’ll also never refuse a dance floor. There’s too much fun to be had, and I get enough sitting at work even with the occasional dance break (not to be confused with breakdance, which I think became dangerous when I breached 30).

I’m a husband to my beautiful wife of 10 years (as of this coming June). Beth is the reason I ultimately mustered the courage to start Awaking Dragons. She’s the comfort when I’m low, the shining smile and playfulness I so desperately need in my life, and a talented public speaker to boot. Check out some of the cool things she’s been up to. Also (and I say this with a loving grin on my face and her blessing in my back pocket), she’s not a great loser.

I’m sorry. What I mean to say is that she’s a terrible loser. I kid you not, I once went on a 30 (thirty) plus game losing streak to her. It didn’t matter what kind of card or board game we played—I could. Not. Win. When I finally did eke out a victory, there were no warm congratulations 🙂

I’ve won a couple games since, but not many.

We have three wonderful and rambunctious boys, all under the age of 9. They keep our hands wonderfully full with belly laughs, Legos, stories, the absolute best metaphors ever (did you all know that God is like a nutcracker?), and more zeal for American football than I’ve ever managed on my own. They are the reason this Minnesota-bound Oregon native is a) learning to ice skate, and b) actually having fun with it (though in the process I’ve discovered a few muscle groups I didn’t know I had).

Remember the name of those hard strawberry candies with the flavored goo on the inside, swaddled in a strawberry-looking wrapper? Yeah, me neither; but they’re my favorite, and they remind me of my great-grandparents (aka Nanny and Great-Grandpa) who I was privileged to know and live near as a kid.

Years ago, I discovered tea wasn’t half bad with sugar in it. Just a few months back, I learned a dressing of honey and cinnamon was how God intended for coffee to be enjoyed. Now you know, too. Keep it secret. Keep it safe.

One of the best gifts I ever received: I came home from work one difficult day to find Beth had dug up her old (very old) projector from her parents’ place, hooked it to her laptop, rearranged our small apartment living room where we rented at the time, and queued up The Fellowship of the Ring (extended edition, of course). Beth’s not a fan of Tolkien, but I’m a fan of hers.

I’ve always loved words, but it was Tolkien who helped me through them to see and love the world and the adventure of existence.

My Christian faith has taught me (continues to teach me) to love and cherish all kinds of life.

Malcolm Guite taught me to love poetry and reminded me of the raw power of language that Tolkien knew so well. I hope to be able to tell him so someday.

R. S. Thomas, Christian Wiman, and Gerard Manley Hopkins are currently helping me to keep loving it all, which is also to say to keep wrestling, trying to understand, and allowing it all to be fully and completely beyond me, recognizing they are not things to be grasped and tucked in the pocket—not used. They are guides and walking sticks, not consumables.

In the spirit of conversation and living and wrestling and loving, I hope to publish a book of essays and poetry someday and am working toward that end. And now I’ve said it, spoken it out to the ether.

No—I’ve spoken it to you, friends, and shared my own hopes. What are some of yours?

And now a poem for all the little things that make us up—all our whens—and for taking the time to reflect on them in this wild and beautiful ride of a life we’re in.

In the Distance, I See

Originally published in The Habit Portfolio

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

Another miracle: me, weightless again. It only looks
like metal tossing us skyward—
the astute knows the spirit hefts all.

As we’re distanced from that to which we return
I remember. It is the fault
of the aeroplane to move so fast. No soul

was meant to. But its gift is the distancing,
if only for a flash offering a glimpse
of each and every one of our whens.

I’d love to hear your thoughts and some of your whens. You can comment below or message me directly. Let’s have a conversation.