Month: September 2025

A Good Man Never Dies ~ A Poem by James Whitcomb Riley

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Why a Good Man Never Truly Dies

Riley reminds us that the measure of a life is not in its end, but in the love, labor, and light it leaves behind.

A Good Man Never Dies

James Whitcomb Riley

I

A good man never dies–
  In worthy deed and prayer
And helpful hands, and honest eyes,
  If smiles or tears be there:
Who lives for you and me–
  Lives for the world he tries
To help–he lives eternally.
  A good man never dies.

II

Who lives to bravely take
  His share of toil and stress,
And, for his weaker fellows’ sake,
  Makes every burden less,–
He may, at last, seem worn–
  Lie fallen–hands and eyes
Folded–yet, though we mourn and mourn,
  A good man never dies.

Source

📝 Reflection

James Whitcomb Riley’s A Good Man Never Dies carries a timeless truth—that goodness, once lived, cannot perish. Deeds of kindness, prayers whispered, burdens lightened, and honest eyes continue to ripple long after the body rests. A “good man” is not defined by perfection but by the way he lessens the weight of the world for others. When such a person leaves this life, their spirit lingers in every smile they sparked and every tear they helped wipe away. The poem gently shifts our mourning from finality to continuity. Death is not erasure but transformation: love becomes legacy, sacrifice becomes strength for those who follow. Riley’s words invite us to see eternity not in endless time, but in enduring influence.

❓ Three Questions for Reflection

  1. How do Riley’s words challenge your understanding of life and death?
  2. What acts of kindness in your own life might ripple beyond your years?
  3. In what ways have you felt the presence of someone’s goodness long after they’ve gone?

New Podcast: Finding Stillness in a Noisy World: Plotinus Speaks Today

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In an age of endless notifications and digital noise, Plotinus whispers: “Look inward, then upward.” Discover how ancient wisdom can guide your soul toward peace.

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Day 7: The Nagging Injury That Won’t Heal

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Overtraining’s Final Warning: The Injury That Won’t Go Away

If aches turn into chronic pain, your body isn’t weak—it’s overworked.

The clearest—and most dangerous signal of overexercising is the injury that lingers. Strains, shin splints, and tendon pain don’t heal because the body never gets the downtime it needs. Pushing through only digs the hole deeper. Sports medicine research shows that overtraining delays healing and leads to long-term joint and tendon problems (British Journal of Sports Medicine, 2016).

Ignoring injuries doesn’t build toughness—it builds scar tissue.

Practical Step: If pain lasts more than a week, stop training that area and consult a professional. Early rest saves months of rehab.

Chasing El Dorado and Other Myths: Why We Hunt What We’ll Never Find

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From golden cities to youth-giving springs, people chase myths for centuries. But maybe the real treasure isn’t out there—it’s in living fully right here.

We humans love a good story—especially if it comes with a treasure map and the promise of glory. Take El Dorado, the city of gold. Explorers dove into jungles, swamps, and rivers chasing a gleaming dream that never materialized. Or the infamous Money Pit on Oak Island—two centuries of digging, drilling, and bank-draining later, and the only thing people reliably struck was financial ruin. And then there’s the Fountain of Youth, where countless hopefuls imagined sipping their way to eternal smooth skin. (Spoiler alert: the fountain is still under construction.)

Why do we persist? Because myths give us hope, sparkle, and the thrill of “what if?” But maybe—just maybe—the bigger challenge is letting go of the glitter and grabbing onto reality. Reality may not offer eternal youth, pirate gold, or golden streets, but it does offer laughter, love, and dinner conversation. And that’s not a bad deal.

So ask yourself: are you chasing a myth, or are you living your life where the real treasures hide—in plain sight?

Flash Fiction Monday: Don’t Trust a Psychic with a Shrunken Head

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If your fortune teller decorates with her ex-husband’s head, maybe it’s time to reconsider your life choices.

The life was being choked out me. I tried to scream my lips wouldn’t move. 

 I threw punches and kicked trying to break the strangle hold. His hands tightened around my neck. I was gasping for breath.

I suddenly woke, my soaking wet t-shirt glued to my skin. 

My sheet coiled around my neck and chest like a Florida python. My heart racing faster than a Space X rocket leaving the launch pad. 

Seven nights running. Seven times I lived through this nightmare. Me walking on the Vegas strip. Me grabbed from behind by a casino heavyweight collecting unpaid gambling debts.

I needed professional help all I could afford was Madame Xua (pronounced Shoo-Ah). Madame Xua, the psychic who contacts the spirit world. Madame Xua, the psychic who predicted the decapitation of my on again off again girlfriend Anita’s grandmother.

Two more recurring dreams later I sat across from Madame Xua staring at a shrunken head hanging from the ceiling behind her. The walls were covered with photos of rice paddies, Vietnamese tribal people, spears, and a large photo of Madame Xua standing barefoot in the middle of a bonfire, wearing a gossamer gown her eyes closed and a smile across her faced. 

I wanted to bolt. Before I could, she took hold of my hand and I felt an electric charge exchange between us.

“I’ve been waiting for you for two weeks, Henry. Why didn’t you call?” Madame Xua said.

What was she talking about? I made the appointment yesterday.

“I called you yesterday, not two weeks ago,” I said.

Madame Xua saw me staring at the shrunken head. 

“Pay no attention to Minh, my second husband. He did me dirty.”

“He did you dirty? What did he do? How did he die?” 

“He ate sushi I specially prepared for him. Soon after he had a stroke and was quickly gone.”

I wanted to leave but I didn’t want  I didn’t want Madame Xua thinking I did her dirty and placing my head hanging  next to Minh.

I turned away from Minh and stared at the Madame Xua’s photo. The flimsiness of her outfit left nothing to imagination.

“Do you like my body?” she asked.

“I was looking Minh.”

“Oh come now, Henry. Let’s not begin our session with a lie.”

“Okay, I was staring at your picture.”

“It doesn’t do me justice.”

I needed to change the subject. “Can you tell me about my dream. Is someone going to kill me.”

“I have intimate knowledge of your dream. Place your hands in mine and close your eyes.”

“Why are doing this?” I said as I placed both of my hands in hers and closed my eyes.

“Do not speak, do not open your eyes until I command you to. I am connecting with the spirit world. They get angry if they are interrupted.”

For the next ten minutes Madame Xua hummed an ancient Oriental sound.

She opened her eyes and stared at me. I thought I was looking into hell.

“It’s not good is it?” 

Madame Xua shook her head. “Do not return to Vista drive.”

“That’s the street I live on.” 

“I know,” Madame Xua replied.

“Will I get killed if I go home?”

“You can go home. Just do not go home by Vista Drive. That’s where it will happen.”

“We all die. Maybe you will die on Vista Drive. Maybe you won’t. The voices asked me to warn you not to go home by Vista Drive.”

I thanked Madame Xua and left depressed. Vista Drive was my only way home.

Twenty minutes later I was cruising down Vista Drive wondering where I would die.

My apartment building was two blocks ahead t. I hit the brakes and pulled to the curb. 

The three local TV studios were outside my building. I saw news helicopters circling. I got out of my car and began walking to my apartment. I heard a car stop behind me. I stopped and turned. It was a police car. The officer was putting a ticket on my car.

“That’s my apartment building. There are no other spots,” I pleaded..

“You’re parking in front of a fire hydrant. I’m having your car towed.”

“I’ll move it.”

“Too late. I already called the tow truck.”

I remembered, too late, Madame Xua warned me not to go home by Vista Drive.

Flash Fiction Prompt: Who Needs Coffee When You’ve Got Screams and Gunfire?

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A scream, a bark, and a gunshot crack the morning calm. Can your tough guy shave, think straight, and face the chaos outside?

✍️ Flash Fiction Prompt

First Line (grab hold):

I was halfway through the second pass of the razor when the scream sliced sharper than the blade.

Ensuing Paragraph:

I froze, lather dripping down my cheek like melting snow. Outside my window, the city coughed up its usual soundtrack—horns, heels on pavement, doors slamming—but this wasn’t routine. The scream was raw, high-pitched, human. Then came the bark, guttural and frantic, followed by the flat crack of a gunshot that silenced everything. I wiped the razor on a towel, careful, steady. I don’t smoke—never did, never will—so there was no cigarette to calm the nerves, just the steady rhythm of breath and the hum of blood in my ears. I slid the razor into its case and reached for the pistol I kept under the sink, cold steel against warm hand. In the mirror, a face stared back: jaw square, eyes tired, but not beaten. The kind of face that didn’t ask for trouble but never stepped aside when it came knocking. Trouble wasn’t just knocking now. It had kicked the door off its hinges, screaming, barking, and firing shots. And I had to decide whether to finish shaving… or start bleeding.

❓ Three Questions for Writers

  1. Who is the woman behind the scream, and how does she connect to the tough guy’s past?
  2. What role does the barking dog play—warning, victim, or witness?
  3. Does the gunshot pull him deeper into a personal vendetta, or into a stranger’s nightmare?

Light for the Journey: The Power of Small Things: Van Gogh’s Lesson on Greatness

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Greatness is not born in a flash of impulse but built, piece by piece, through the patient linking of small, steady actions.

Great things do not just happen by impulse, but as a succession of small things linked together. Vincent Van Gogh

📝 Reflection

Vincent Van Gogh’s words remind us that the masterpieces of life are rarely the result of sudden impulse. Instead, they are woven from countless small efforts—brushstrokes on a canvas, kind words offered, choices made with care. Each step, however small, carries significance. Greatness grows quietly, often unnoticed, until one day the accumulation of those small, faithful actions forms something remarkable. This truth frees us from the pressure of achieving instant results. Instead, it invites us to focus on today’s small step, trusting that over time, those steps will carry us somewhere meaningful. Whether in relationships, health, creativity, or faith, the secret is the same: small things matter, because together, they shape greatness.

The Starlight Night ~ A Poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins

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Heaven’s Lanterns: Finding Christ in Hopkins’ Starlight Night

Hopkins’ poem dazzles with stars like “fire-folk sitting in the air,” yet beneath the wonder lies a call to prayer, patience, and a vision of Christ at home among us.

The Starlight Night

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Look at the stars! look, look up at the skies!
  O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air!
  The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there!
Down in dim woods the diamond delves! the elves’-eyes!
The grey lawns cold where gold, where quickgold lies!
  Wind-beat whitebeam! airy abeles set on a flare!
  Flake-doves sent floating forth at a farmyard scare! —
Ah well! it is all a purchase, all is a prize.

Buy then! bid then! — What? — Prayer, patience, alms, vows.
  Look, look: a May-mess, like on orchard boughs!
Look! March-bloom, like on mealed-with-yellow sallows!
  These are indeed the barn; withindoors house
  The shocks. This piece-bright paling shuts the spouse
Christ home, Christ and his mother and all his hallows.

Source

Gerard Manley Hopkins’ The Starlight Night reminds us that the beauty of the heavens is not just a spectacle for our eyes but a pathway for our souls. The stars glitter like “fire-folk,” “diamond delves,” and “elves’-eyes,” enchanting us with their brilliance. Yet Hopkins does not let us linger in mere awe; he turns our gaze inward, urging us to “buy” with prayer, patience, and almsgiving. In this way, the stars become more than ornaments of the night—they become symbols pointing us toward Christ and His dwelling. Hopkins’ language vibrates with joy and urgency, showing that creation itself calls us home, inviting us to participate in divine wonder. To look at the stars is to glimpse eternity and to recognize that their brilliance pales before the light of Christ who dwells among us. The poem reminds us that our prayers and patience are not wasted—they are investments in eternity.

❓ Three Questions for Reflection

  1. How does Hopkins use imagery of nature to connect earthly beauty with spiritual truth?
  2. What does the call to “buy” with prayer and patience mean for your daily life?
  3. How might seeing the stars as signs of Christ’s presence change the way you view the night sky?

Day 6: When Sleep Turns Against You

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Overtraining and Sleepless Nights: The Hidden Link

Exhausted but can’t sleep? Overtraining may be hijacking your rest.

You’d think overexercising makes sleep easier. Instead, it can leave you wired, restless, and staring at the ceiling at 2 a.m. Excessive training spikes stress hormones like cortisol, disrupting natural sleep cycles. Research confirms that overtraining correlates with poor sleep quality and insomnia (Hausswirth et al., European Journal of Applied Physiology, 2014).

Without sleep, muscles can’t repair, immunity tanks, and mental focus shatters. It’s a vicious cycle.

Practical Step: If your sleep suffers for three nights in a row after intense workouts, replace the next session with restorative yoga or light stretching before bed.

Good Things Find You: Start With a Morning Optimism Mindset

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What you expect greets you. Begin each day primed for opportunity, quiet insight, and the people you’re meant to meet.

When I wake up in the morning I expect a great day. I let the day come at me and knowing it’s going to be a great one. It will have unexpected opportunities. There will be unexpected people I will meet. There will be moments of quiet where I get an insight that will blow me away. I operate with a philosophy that everything will turn out OK if I hang in there long enough. Things don’t necessarily turn out the way I want them to turn out but they turn out OK. I know I have the optimism bug and it’s very deep into my DNA and will never leave. I don’t know where I got it. I can’t attribute it to my mom or dad or any other person who was close to me. It’s one of life mysteries for me. How do you feel when you wake up in the morning? Do you feel like going after the day? Do you feel like things will work out for you? I have a theory that how we look at our day and what we expect the day to bring usually comes our way. Is it time for you to change how you look at you expect your day to turn out?

So tomorrow morning, before your feet hit the floor, ask yourself: What good might find me today? The answer could reshape your entire day.

Critical Points to Ponder

  1. Expectation Sets Direction: What three good things do you expect today—and how will you notice them?
  2. Opportunity Radar: When a surprise appears, what’s your first question: “Why me?” or “How can this help?”
  3. Create Quiet Windows: Where will you schedule five minutes for the insight that “blows you away”?
  4. People as Gateways: Who will you greet or thank today to invite connection and serendipity?
  5. t Is a Win: When plans shift, how do you reframe the detour so it still turns out OK?

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