Tuesday, January 13, 2026
If only we knew there was a hidden gem in the wellspring, we’d stop searching. We’d lose our wanderlust. What’s at home is a zest for being alive. One doesn’t find this zest. It arises, like bubbling crude. You vaguely remember it, as a child, free and careless. The days flew by as you played, coming up with all sorts of games and make-believe. Some of the most fun I’ve ever had has been alone. I played well as a child, but worse as an adult.
Now, I play again. I dance and run, nearly naked and free. I skip and hop, sometimes I twirl and shake. I am entertained by music playing softly in my head as I awake. Hymns, pop tunes, and sometimes words of comfort play in the air of my mind. Mostly, I’m quiet in the mind, but I like what I hear.
When the wellspring of zest comes, your head is in the clouds, soaring like an eagle, high above the status quo. You learn to leave this world behind. You’ll leave this world behind eventually, but let’s leave it as an adventure, now.
If a 50 year old, such as me, is skipping and hopping and jumping, you’d consider me insane; but not a child. They’d join. They’d frolic through the fields too, wondering what’s in front of them – a whole new world within the one they have left behind.
To turn 50 and realize I’m kidding. I love to pretend. I love to make-believe. I love to move my body in weird ways and run as fast as I can. Some of the most fun is alone. Some of the best times are alone. Some of the best performances I’ve ever given on a musical instrument have been for none other.
Did you know there is a zest for living for one?