Tuesday, September 1, 2026
This is a mythical cliché—”it is not working out.” Yet, no matter what it looks like, it is working out: in the end, in the middle, and in the beginning. Go to the seventh day and live there. Abide in that space. Sabbaticating. Fallowing.
How many times does life have to work out, even as it unravels, for you to finally live comfortably? The price of distrust is constant anxiety, endlessly chasing the ins and outs.
Now, I am in a constant state of trust, constant peace, and constant knowing. That is walking by faith, dwelling forever in the seventh day, rather than toiling through the first or the last. No more shining a heat lamp on my so-called problems, worrying that they are “not working out.” My life is constantly unfurling, forever cured and curved. Now what? The heat lamp is off, so I turn to my neighbor.
Help others once you realize that fear is a god. Help them overcome their fears, their false idols. Create something soothing, like a blog or a song. Listen.
You no longer need to obsess over your problems; the god of fear has been taken down. The hot seat is entirely made up. If it all works out in the end, it is working out right now. That is seventh-day living, eternal sabbaticating. Fallowing, not following a god in the sky or a bearded historical figure in sandals.
In a sweat lodge, when the heat becomes too intense, they recommend you relieve your suffering by praying for your fellow lodger. Take the heat off your own path. When you have seen the Light, you turn outward and become the path.
Be the Light that knows it is working, now and always. Be forever sabbaticating, lying fallow.
Live the seventh day, always, and the twists and turns cease to tie you in “nots.”