what is this joy

creeping up inside my soul?

this peace

running its way about me?

what is this beauty

which i see; hear,

not only in the sunset,

not only in the singing birds

what is this beauty?

not simply in the sound of rain,

but in traffic lights,

in washing cars and feeling tired

in sunshine, in rain,

in singing birds, in spiders,

in my dog resting on a chair,

gazing out the window,

in music, in guitars,

in major chords, in minor keys,

in the piano

i barely play?

what is this wonderful,

astounding beauty?

in love, in joy, in peace,

in pain?

what is it that my heart breaks for,

that so many should miss all this?

will they ever see

what the world shows me?

will they ever hear

what it whispers in my ear?

or is it simply my burden

to notice?

No matter how hard I tried to wish them away, the tears wouldn’t stop, streaming down my face as I ran deep into the woods I used to play in. My mind would not stop echoing the same things, over and over. ‘How could I be so stupid?’ was the main one. How could I have been so stupid, not only to do it, but to get caught? Hell, my first mistake was having the bright idea to do it in the first place. I guess I do deserve to have my whole world crashing down.

Take deep breaths. It’s going to be okay, Daisy. The words of my mother cut through the echoes of my questions for just a moment. When I got home earlier today, I was already a mess, but Mom didn’t know why. Well, she has to know by now. As I continued to run, I nearly tripped over a root. I stumbled, but continued to move. After a few more minutes, I stopped and looked around. I no longer knew where I was. That was exactly what I wanted.

“You lost?” I just about jumped out of my skin as someone spoke to my right. I looked over to the stranger.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” said a boy, about my age or maybe a little older, sitting on a fallen tree. I normally wouldn’t talk to strangers in the woods, but he seemed sad, and he was cute.

“I- uh, well, yeah,” I stammered. I took a deep breath, and wiped the tears from my face, gathering myself. “But I want to be,” I added.

“Me too,” he said in a long, drawn-out way. He threw a small rock as far as he could. The boy ran a hand through his curly dark hair. “Sit down, it’s pretty,” he gestured next to himself on the tree, and looked around, taking in the woods, ignited by the afternoon sun. I did the same. The sound of dozens of singing birds filled my ears. It was beautiful.

“It is beautiful,” I said. I sat down. He chuckled quietly to himself.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing, I just don’t use that word very much.”

“What, ‘beautiful’?”

He waved his hand and said, “forget it.”

At that point, I couldn’t help but laugh. I had never heard someone say such a thing.

“Why don’t you like that word?” I couldn’t help but ask.

The corners of his mouth turned up a little, and then back down. “When I was a kid, I always wanted to go to the grand canyon. We never had the money to, but there was this one time my mom saved up some gas money and took us to see the Mississippi River.”

I realized he still hadn’t looked me in the eyes. He stared into the distance. I noticed his dark brown eyes. They looked sad—but not just from reminiscing—as if that was just the way they were.

“Mom kept saying ‘isn’t it so beautiful?’ and I wasn’t having it. I threw a fit, I kept saying, ‘It’s not beautiful, it’s just pretty. It’s not the Grand Canyon,’ things like that.”

All of a sudden, he sniffled, and looked the other way.

“It’s okay,” I said, “you don’t have to tell me if it makes you sad.”

He looked straight ahead and nodded. “I just– my mom, she was beautiful. Nothing here comes close.” He ran one of his hands from his forehead down his chin and stared up at the trees. We sat in silence for a long moment. I was okay with the silence. It was nice to be around someone who wasn’t disappointed in me.

I considered what he said.

“What if pretty and beautiful aren’t two different levels of beauty, but two different things entirely?” I asked.

“Hmm.”

“Some things are pretty; like that bird over there, and that single ray of sun hitting the leaves in just the right spot.”

“And some things are beautiful,” he said.

“Like your mom.”

“Well, she was pretty too. She was all of it.”

I didn’t have anything else to say, so I let the memory of his mother fill the air for a moment.

“What’s your name, anyway?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Daisy.”

He chuckled. “Like Daisy Buchanan. What are the odds?”

“And you are?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“My name is Jay.” At this moment, I would have looked in his eyes to see if he was telling the truth, but he still refrained from eye contact.

“You’re right, I don’t believe you.” I paused for a moment. Maybe I did believe him. “It’s nice to meet you, Jay,” I said. Who cares if he’s lying?

“It’s nice to meet you, Daisy Buchanan.” Jay stood up. “Do you want to walk around some? I know there’s a waterfall somewhere in these woods, but I’ve never been able to find it.”

Following Jay seemed like the only sensible thing to do. “Sure,” I said.

Jay led the way, and I followed him. I was pretty sure he didn’t know where he was going. I was okay with that.

“Sorry about that, a second ago,” said Jay apologetically. “My mom died when I was still really young. I’m usually able to talk about it without–”

“It’s okay.” I gently placed one of my hands on Jay’s shoulder to comfort him. He stopped walking suddenly. He closed his eyes. “It’s okay,” I repeated gently, lightly rubbing his shoulder. “Let’s talk about something else.”

Jay took a long, focused, deep breath. “Okay,” he started, “Are you actually named for Daisy Buchanan?”

“I am, actually, my mom loves that book.”

“It is a great book, I think it’s written very…”

“Prettily?” I offered.

Jay chuckled. “Exactly.”

“And you?”

“I’m named for the bird. It was my mom’s favorite.”

We both took a second to laugh at the fact that we were both named for one of our mothers’ favorite things.

Jay and I continued walking, to nowhere in particular, discussing literature as we did. I learned that he hated Shakespeare and had never read anything by Jane Austen. He knew who I was named after, though, so I decided to give him a chance. Plus, he was cute.

We didn’t say anything about our actual lives for what must have been an hour, until he asked me the one thing I hoped he didn’t.

“Why’d you run away into the woods, if you don’t mind me asking?” I knew he’d ask sooner or later, and part of me wished we could have kept talking about literature, but he said, “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay, you know?”

All of a sudden, I thought I heard rushing water in the distance. “Shhh,” I said.

“What?”

“Do you hear that?”

Jay closed his eyes and listened hard for a moment. He gasped, excited. I grabbed his hand.

“Come on,” I said, running towards the sound. I looked back at Jay, and he was smiling. For a moment, he looked really happy. But there was still a sadness in his dark eyes.

We reached a wall of rock about twelve feet tall, and the sound of the water came from the top. Jay and I looked at each other, and without saying a word, we both started to climb. It didn’t take me long, I’d been rock climbing for years. Jay struggled a little, but he made it close enough for me to offer a hand to help him up. He refused, initially, but was having trouble reaching the ledge. I kept holding out my hand, and eventually he took it, shaking his head, disappointed in himself.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Yeah.” I took it in. In the middle of the woods I used to get lost in for hours when I was a kid, there was a twenty-five foot waterfall. A rushing stream ran into the falls from the woods, which extended as far as we could see. The rock wall slowly descended into a hill from the top of the falls, but it still stood about five feet above the stream below. It was like a–

“Canyon,” Jay muttered. “It’s like a canyon.”

I still couldn’t believe my eyes, and I was having trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that the woods continued at the top of the small cliff. It was like a brand new world, one we had just discovered. One no one else knew about. One where no one else would find us.

“It’s so pretty,” I whispered, refraining from using the word reserved for Jay’s mother.

“No,” Jay whispered. “It’s beautiful.” A small tear rolled down the side of his face. On pure instinct, I brushed it away for him. He closed his eyes and brushed the side of his face on my hand, so I kept it there. I moved it around to the other side of his head and gently rested it on his neck. I placed the side of my head on his shoulder. I didn’t really know why, but then again, I did. It was the only sensible thing to do. Slowly, I sat down, and he followed me. I kept my hand on his neck, and gently brushed the ends of his hair. I rested my head on his shoulder again, and he gently lay his head on mine. I didn’t know exactly how he felt, but this was the most peace I had felt in a very long time.

We didn’t move for ages. It could have been an hour. It could have been longer. We just sat there, listening to the rushing water, as if it was washing us clean of everything we had ever been, ever known, or ever done.

“Jay,” I eventually said, gently.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s just that–” I was trying to find the right words. It sounded so dumb in my head.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice a bit stronger than a whisper.

“I cheated,” I confessed, “on a test.” Why would I tell him that?

“That’s why you ran away?”

I nodded and quietly said, “Yeah. I got caught. The principal told me I could be expelled, and I thought my mom would disown me and I wouldn’t get into college–”

“Hey,” he said gently, cutting me off. “None of that matters now.”

“I– I had no choice.”

At that very moment, Jay looked me in the eyes for the very first time. His face transformed into a mixture of sadness and regret as tears began streaming down his face. At first he was fighting it, trying to wipe away the tears, but before long, he was sobbing.

Through choked sobs he cried, “Neither did I! Neither did I!”

I wrapped both my arms around him and stroked his hair as he wetted my neck with warm tears. “I know. Shhh. I know. It’s okay,” I said, soothingly. Whatever he’d done, it had to be worse than cheating on a test. But that didn’t matter now.

Jay cried as if he never had before; as if everything he had ever felt was spewing out. I kept stroking his hair and whispering reassurances. Before long, I was crying too, and I felt his arms wrap around my back. I didn’t really know why I was crying, but then again, I did. There we sat, two strangers wrapped in each others’ arms, letting it all out. Everything we hadn’t let anyone else see.

Even when both of us had run our tear ducts dry, we didn’t move. Jay’s face remained planted on my neck, and mine rested on his shoulder. We just sat there, holding each other. After a few minutes, our breathing returned to normal and our muscles began to relax, when all of a sudden a voice reached out from below the rock wall.

“Who’s up there?” a man’s voice demanded urgently. Whoever it was, he couldn’t see us from where he stood below the cliff. I opened my mouth to respond, but Jay reached up to cover my mouth. He looked me dead in the eyes and shook his head, telling me to be quiet. I heard the buzz of a handheld radio, and the voice said “This is Sheriff Morris, calling for backup. I may have found someone in the woods. Over.”

“Sheriff Morris, where are you?” said a woman’s voice from the radio.

“By the waterfall, but I’m stuck below the cliff. I don’t think I can climb, but I’m going to try to get a better look at the top,” he said.

My heart was beating rapidly. I didn’t know what to do. They couldn’t be after me, could they? Had Mom reported me missing? Were they after Jay? All I knew was I didn’t want to be around anyone, except the only person who had ever seen me for who I really was, and liked what they saw. Before I could devise a plan, Jay took me by the wrist and led me between a tree and a small bush near the ledge of the falls. We lay on the floor of leaves and pine needles, and peered through the bush. At first, we didn’t see anything, but after a moment a short, stocky man wearing a sheriff’s badge and holding a small revolver came into view. As soon as we saw him, we crawled back and pressed our heads down into the pine needles, hoping he didn’t see us.

Jay’s face was centimeters from mine. “I didn’t have a choice,” he barely whispered. “Listen to me Daisy, whatever they say about me, I didn’t have a choice, okay?”

My mind was spinning with a million questions. What had he done? Or not done? Why was there a sheriff after us with a gun? Whatever it was, I didn’t care. Should I? Everything about what he said was sincere. Even if it wasn’t, as far as I was concerned, Jay was innocent.

His dark, sad eyes stared deep into mine. They were like mirrors, reflective from all the tears that had spilled out of them. I could see myself in them, so I looked at her for a moment. My messy brown hair was full of pine needles, my neck was damp from Jay’s tears, and my face—my face looked some way it hadn’t in a very long time. I didn’t look happy, exactly, but I looked free in a way, and more like myself than I ever remember. Whatever he’d done, I didn’t care, because in the reflection of this stranger’s sad eyes, I was more alive than ever before.

“I believe you,” I whispered softly. I smiled at him, kindly and genuinely. The corners of his mouth turned up, just slightly, and his eyes looked a little less sad, just for a moment. “Let’s go,” I said. Jay nodded and we began to crawl away from the ledge a few feet, so the sheriff couldn’t see us. We carefully stood up, and slowly backed away from our canyon.

“Freeze!” shouted a woman’s voice from behind us. We both stopped dead in our tracks. “Ma’am, step away from him! He’s dangerous.” Was it over, just like that? Was that the only handful of moments of peace I would ever have?

“Don’t listen to her,” Jay whispered. I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

“That boy is a murderer, young lady,” said the officer in a grave, low voice. “Step. Away. From him.” My heart felt like it dropped all the way to the bottom of my stomach.

Jay closed his eyes and let out a sharp breath. There was a deep pain on his face. “If we could just tal–” he started to say.

“Get on the ground!” the officer shouted.

Jay flinched. “Please,” he pleaded.

“I’m going to try to climb up,” shouted the sheriff from below the cliff. Jay whipped his head around and must have seen that the officer behind us was distracted, because in a split-second, he began to sprint straight for the waterfall.

“Freeze!” the officer shouted again. “Don’t you jump! I’m warning you!”

He didn’t care about her warnings. He didn’t care that she had a gun. He planted his foot on the edge of the cliff above the waterfall, and leapt straight out into the open air, bringing his body into a diving position. Everything about it was graceful. He was free. It was the prettiest, most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

My entire body shuddered as a gunshot echoed through the woods. I let out a scream as if I’d been shot, but she wasn’t aiming at me. I tried to make my legs move, but I was frozen for what felt like an eternity. The world stood still as Jay flew down into the water. When I heard a splash, my legs began to move, as if by their own power. I ran for the ledge, frantically looking for Jay in the rushing water. There was no sign of him. The officer shouted at me; something about a gang, the word ‘murderer,’ but I wasn’t listening to her. I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh summer air. All I could hear was the rushing water and the singing birds. All I could feel were Jay’s arms wrapped around me, my head on his shoulder, and his dried tears on my neck. All I could see was his kind smile, his beautiful sad eyes, and how free he looked when he dove off the waterfall. My head spun, my heart pounded, and I didn’t know what to do, so I did the only sensible thing I could think of.

About a Dream I Had

3 AM. Thursday.

Blood pouring out of his neck, Nate clutched his throat as he woke up. His face was cut from his eye to his chin, and there was a hole in his neck. His mind raced with so many questions, but his body knew what to do. He ran into the room next door where his roommate was sleeping. Trying not to cough blood all over him, Nate shook John awake.

John grabbed his keys from the bedside table, took Nate by the arm and got them both to the car as fast as he could. It was pouring rain outside, and Nate’s gray t-shirt quickly became soaked with a mixture of blood and rainwater.

John drove as fast as he could without flipping the car on the turns. He knew how to get to the Emergency Room from the incident with his mom the year before.

“Did you do that to yourself?” John asked.

Nate tried to talk, but only coughed up blood. His look said, Are you serious?

“What the hell happened, man?” John asked out loud to no one in particular.

Nate’s vision was spotty, maybe it was the darkness, or the thick rain, or the blood, but he could see the bright red glow of the Emergency Room sign. John put Nate’s arm around himself, doing most of the work to walk them in. A nurse immediately ran to him when they passed through the sliding glass door.

“Grab a stretcher!” she yelled over her right shoulder.

Laying his roommate down on it, John said, “Stay awake, Nate. Stay awake.”

11 AM

“Rough night?” someone asked to Nate’s right.

Waking up, Nate first saw the fluorescent lights of the hospital ceiling, and then remembered what happened the night before. Panicking, Nate reached up to his throat, where he found a small tube redirecting blood from inside his neck to outside his neck. The sudden movement hurt his hand, which had an IV in it. In his other arm, he was receiving blood to make up for what he’d lost.

Remembering someone said something, Nate looked to his right, where he saw a curtain, closing him off from his new friend.

“Oh,” Nate started, barely getting out a whisper. “Yeah.”

“It’s okay, man, don’t talk. Check the TV out, though.”

Nate sat up slightly in his bed, looking at the TV. His new friend unmuted it and turned it up.

“We have breaking news of a new social media trend, where women are taking revenge on their ex-boyfriends by cutting across their faces with knives. Not much is known about how this started, but two teenage girls who were caught during the act are being held for questioning in a Police Department just outside of Atlanta. We have photos of several of the victims, whose injuries look eerily similar. Viewer discretion is advised.”

Nate could not see himself, but the pain in his face felt exactly how the photos looked. He wondered something. Nate pulled open the curtain with his IV hand and looked over at his new friend.

“I’m Jacob. Crazy, right?” his new friend said as he motioned towards the TV. Jacob’s face had a cut in it from his eye to his chin. His neck was untouched.

Nate was still stunned, and his throat was still unable to make noise.

“Your girl must have messed up or tried to actually kill you,” Jacob said, pointing at the tube coming out of Nate’s neck.

Nate stared at him. He had so many questions.

She wouldn’t do this, he thought.

“More on the two girls being questioned after these messages.”

“How were only two caught? I mean it seems like most people would wake up when someone is carving up their face with a knife,” Jacob thought out loud. “And how are they getting in the houses? And how are more of them not seen?”

“Maybe they still have old keys,” said John as he walked in.

Nate was relieved to see a friendly face.

“How are you?” John asked him

Nate smiled at him enthusiastically, making his IV hand into a thumbs-up.

“That bad, huh?” said John.

“Have you talked to her?” John asked.

Nate pointed at his throat.

John nodded.

“He just woke up,” Jacob said as he sipped some apple juice.

“Right,” said John. “Rough night?” he asked Jacob.

“Rough night.”

4 PM. Saturday.

Nate was in the hospital for two more days. They let him out on Saturday afternoon with stitches in his face and a bandage on his neck. He had been planning what he would do first when they let him out, but he was still nervous.

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” John asked him as he turned out of the hospital.

“No,” Nate said, able to speak in slightly more than a whisper. “Let’s do it.”

“Alright,” said John.

John drove them both to Nate’s ex-girlfriend Ashley’s house. It took twenty minutes to get there from the hospital, and it looked like she wasn’t home.

“No car,” said John.

“No car.” Nate coughed.

Nate knocked on the door anyway. No one answered. He knocked again. No one answered. He walked around to her window.

“We should go, Nate. She isn’t here,” said John.

“Hold on.”

Nate looked through the window to Ashley’s bedroom, where the blinds were slightly open. Looking in, he saw her cat sitting on her bed, and her phone sitting on her bedside table.

“John, her phone is–” Nate started.

“Nate,” John interrupted.

“I think she’s here,” continued Nate.

“Nate, let’s go.”

Nate looked back. He saw a familiar car. Inside was Allie, Ashley’s roommate. She took a picture of Nate and John on her phone and then sped away.

“That’s not good. She probably thinks we’re here for revenge,” John said.

“I just want to know who poked a hole in my neck, man,” Nate said.

“I know. Let’s go home,” John said.

9 PM. Sunday.

Someone knocked on the door.

“I’ll get it,” John said. He started to get up from the couch as he turned down the news, but Nate was closer to the door and already standing up.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t want to live in fear my whole life,” Nate said, walking to the door.

He looked through the peephole. It was Ashley. She looked very distressed.

Nate’s heart jumped. He questioned if this was a good idea. He took a deep breath, and opened the door.

“Nate,” Ashley started, she looked shocked when she saw his stitches and bandage. “I’m so sorry about what happened.” She seemed very sincere.

“Did you do this to me?” Nate asked.

“No, Nate, I would never.”

“It just seems weird,” Nate said. “You’re my only ex-girlfriend who lives within 500 miles of me; and you still have a key.”

“Nate, I can explain,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

“You know I never cheated on you, right? Lying about something I didn’t do was a pretty lousy way to break up with me,” Nate said.

“I didn’t—I thought—she told me—” Ashley said between quick breaths.

“And what was the deal with what happened yesterday? I’m guessing Allie sent you that picture of John and me at your house,” Nate said.

Ashley looked confused.

“Or maybe you knew I was there. I saw your phone,” he continued.

“Nate, please slow down, I didn’t know about that,” said Ashley.

Nate looked behind himself to see if John was hearing all of this. He wasn’t sitting on the couch anymore.

Something on the TV caught Nate’s eye as he was looking back. He walked in, and Ashley followed him. He grabbed the remote and turned it up.

“A deleted video was just recovered of what seems to be a woman filming her ex-boyfriend as she cuts him. We do warn you, the following video may be disturbing.”

Nate’s heart felt like it stopped beating when he saw himself asleep in his bed. Someone was holding a knife up to his face. It was a woman’s hand, and she set the knife down and injected something into his arm with a needle.

“Hurry, that only lasts like 30 seconds,” said a man’s voice quietly.

The woman took the knife and cut across Nate’s face from under his eye to his chin.

When she put it on his neck, the man yelled, “Hey! That’s enough.”

She was able to cut his neck slightly before the man ran up and took the knife from her. “We need to go!” the man yelled.

The woman flipped the camera around and Nate saw Allie with a crazed expression on her face.

“This is why you stay away from my friends,” she said, almost laughing.

She held up her hand, raising her middle finger while still holding the knife.

The video stopped, but it froze on the man standing behind Allie. It was John.

Nate felt dizzy. He looked around to see if he could see John. He was nowhere in sight.

“Are you okay?” Ashley asked.

Nate didn’t know what to do. He looked for his car keys. They weren’t on the usual hook. He looked out the window. His car was gone.

“I want to get out of here,” Nate said.

“Let’s leave. I’ll take us both far away from here. I don’t want anything to do with Allie,” Ashley said.

Nate wasn’t fully sure if he could trust her, but right now he trusted her more than anyone else he knew. He grabbed everything in sight he thought he might need, and followed her into her car.

Ashley started the car and drove away, getting on the interstate without a plan for where they were going.

11 PM. Sunday.

Nate didn’t say anything to Ashley for two hours. At first, they just sat in silence as she drove, but then Nate pretended to be asleep for a while, thinking.

Acting like he’d just woken up, Nate asked, “Did you know about this? Is there something going on between John and Allie? Why would he do this?”

She took a deep breath. “The entire trend was Allie’s idea. I don’t think she knew her video would go viral, but apparently a lot of ex-girlfriends saw it and actually went through with it.”

“They saw the video of me?” Nate asked.

“No, she made a different one where she said what her plan was the day before she did it,” said Ashley.

“Did you know she was going to do this to me?”

“No. Of course not. I would have warned you. She was talking about unfaithful ex-boyfriends so I thought she was going to go after her ex, Logan.”

“Did you warn him?”

“I don’t have a way to reach him, and I didn’t think she would actually do it, but when I saw her leaving with a knife, I called the police and gave them her license plate number.”

“Is she one of the people who were caught?” Nate asked.

“Not one of the girls who were caught in the act. She was brought in for questioning, only there was no evidence except my accusation.”

“I guess there’s evidence now,” said Nate.

“Yeah. Probably why they left.”

“Why did she do it? Why did John do it?”

“I’m sure you know that Allie never liked you,” said Ashley.

“Yeah. Did she tell you I cheated on you?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Well I didn’t.”

“I believe you,” she said.

“Why didn’t she like me?”

“She always said ‘he’s not good enough for you,’” Ashley answered. “Maybe it was just jealousy.”

“What about John?” asked Nate.

“I have no idea,” said Ashley. She paused. “Actually, how long have you known him?”

“About six months,” said Nate. “I put out the listing that I was looking for a roommate and he’s the one who answered.”

“I think that’s about how long Allie has been seeing him,” said Ashley. “About six months ago I noticed she was leaving the house a lot. She never told me where she was going, and some nights she didn’t come home.”

Things were starting to make sense, but he kept asking himself, why.

“She must have convinced John to move in with me,” Nate said.

“That’s what I was thinking,” said Ashley, “to get back at you.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” said Nate. He felt a lump in his throat. He tried not to cry but tears started to trail out of his eyes.

Nate rubbed his eyes with his right hand. His left hand was on the armrest. He felt Ashley’s fingers slip through his.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said.

He drifted off to sleep as she drove into the night.

And what if our hobbies weren’t just for when we feel like it—but something we need to do?

Part One: Make Your Work a Hobby

When you wake up in the morning for work, do you find yourself already looking forward to the end of the day? Already counting down to Friday on Monday? Whether you’re a doctor, lawyer, cashier, mechanic, or full-time writer, something about work being work makes it unappealing—even when you enjoy your job.

Work pays the bills, after all. We can’t just quit because we wish it were the weekend already. Work, however enjoyable, is still work.

Let me give an example. When I was a teenager, and I was about to do the dishes, I was totally fine with it. But most of you probably already know where this is going. As soon as my mom asked me to do the dishes, it suddenly felt like a task—something I had to do, not something I wanted to do anymore. I’d say, “I was going to do the dishes, but now that you asked me to, I don’t want to.”

Most of the time, I still did them anyway (most of the time), but once it was a requirement, it became less enjoyable. I wanted it to be over so I could move on to something I chose.

This shift is actually explained by something called Self-Determination Theory (Deci & Ryan, 1985). It says that humans have three basic psychological needs:

• Autonomy (the need to feel in control of your actions)

• Competence (the need to feel capable and effective)

• Relatedness (the need to feel connected to others)

What changed when my mom told me to do the dishes wasn’t the number of plates or how long it would take. It was that I lost my autonomy. It stopped being my choice.

This concept is backed by several studies, including one by Edward Deci (1971), where students who enjoyed doing a puzzle were paid to do it. Once money entered the picture, they lost motivation and didn’t perform as well. Their intrinsic motivation vanished—replaced by an external reason to keep going. The reward had shifted from enjoyment to payment, and that was enough to kill their motivation.

So I’ll ask you: What is your reward for your work? Is it money, or is it something else?

I’ll go first. I’m a highly unmotivated person when money is the only reward. Not because I don’t want to get paid—I do—but because I constantly feel like I’m wasting time. I keep asking myself, “Is there a better way I could be spending this hour of my life?”

This means that sometimes I enjoy things less than I should, because I’m always second-guessing. But it also means I can’t keep doing something if it doesn’t have a deeper purpose.

So, after my first day of washing cars in a heat wave this summer, I had to ask myself: “Would I do this for free?” and “Is this really worth something beyond the number in my bank account?”

It had to matter to me. I needed to find purpose in it—something beyond money.

For me, that deeper purpose is Jesus. I’m not going to preach to you, I promise. This is the verse that drives my life:

“And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”

‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3‬:‭17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

When I started washing cars, I had to ask myself:

Am I doing this in the name of Jesus?

Or in the name of money?

As a follower of Jesus, if I can’t find a way to make everything I do a form of worship, then I’m missing the point. So every day when I come to work, I try to remind myself: I would do this for free.

It’s not that I don’t need money—it’s just that I need a reward greater than that.

If my worship can look like washing cars, smiling at customers, and saying good morning to coworkers, then that’s what I’ll do. In the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.

If you share my faith, then you know: He is our ultimate purpose. If you don’t, I’d still encourage you to ask yourself—

What purpose are you driven by?

Maybe it’s your family. Maybe it’s the work itself. Maybe it’s simply spreading a little kindness wherever you go.

Whatever it is, put words to it. Hold onto it when you go to work.

Make your work a hobby.

Make the reason you show up matter.

You’ll find it so much more enjoyable, I promise.

You’d do your hobbies for free—can you say the same for your work?

Part Two: Make Your Hobbies Work

Imagine you’re sitting at work.

No—really. Close your eyes for a second, imagine you’re sitting at work (or school) staring at the clock, counting down the seconds, wishing they’d go faster, and ask yourself: What am I counting down the seconds for?

Then ask: Should that be what I’m counting down the seconds for?

And finally: What do I wish I were counting down the seconds for?

You’ve just thought about three things:

1. What you want to be doing instead of working.

2. Whether that’s actually something worth longing for.

3. What you really want to be doing with your time.

If your first answer was something like TV or Instagram reels, I’m not here to judge you. I’ve been there. But I’m willing to bet there’s something deeper you wish you were doing. Maybe it’s reading. Writing. Painting. Fishing. Going to the gym. Learning an instrument. Writing music. You know what it is. And if you don’t, I challenge you to look.

Here are the two lies that have kept me from doing those things:

Lie #1: I don’t have time.

If you’re a single parent or you’re working multiple jobs just to stay afloat, this might not be a lie. But if you’re spending hours every night scrolling or binging a show, then yes—you probably do have time. You’re just spending it somewhere else.

Lie #2: I’m too tired.

Again, I’m not discounting real exhaustion. I’ve felt it. But most of us aren’t too tired for hobbies—we’re just too tired to start them. Consuming is easier than creating. But it’s not always more restful.

Believe me, I know what it’s like. I know what it’s like to spend a whole day doing things I have to do, with no time left for the things I want to do. I know what it’s like to come home at the end of one of those days and feel so drained I can barely move.

But—

I refuse to believe in this reality. I have dreams, and I refuse to believe that I don’t have time for them. I have dreams, and I refuse to believe that I’m too tired for them.

I want to write a book. I want to finish my screenplay. I want to make YouTube videos. I want to write songs. I want to run. I want to work out. I want to eat healthy. I want to spend more time with my family. I want to save money well. I want to play with my dogs. I want to learn a third language. I want to learn more instruments.

I’m sure you have your own list. And if you don’t—look deeper. It’s there. You’d be surprised.

Maybe a better phrase is than “make your hobbies work” is “make your dreams work.” This is your sign to take the wise words of Nike to heart, and just do it.

Just write one page.

Just go to the gym.

Just practice a little Spanish.

Just show up.

Every day.

Make your hobbies work. Make your dreams work. Don’t let them die just because you “don’t feel like it.”

How many pages could you have written if you used all the time you spend on instagram? How many YouTube videos could you have made in the time you’ve spent watching them? How many books could exist if you listen to that voice in your head that says “write it down”?

I’m not calling you out. I get it. I know it’s hard. I know you have precious little time. I know you’re tired. So am I.

But I’m not going to let that kill my dream.

I hope you don’t either.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” Josh was surprised, but he was happy to see her.

“I just had to talk to you, I know you’ve been sick,” she said.

“I’m not supposed to get close to people, Rachel. The doctor said it’s–”

“Very contagious. I know Josh.”

“Well, thanks for coming anyway,” said Josh. “Did you have anything specific you wanted to talk about?”

“Well, I got into that dance school,” Rachel said with very little emotion.

“That’s great!” Josh sounded 10 times more excited than she did. “It’s in town and everything.”

“Yeah.” She paused. “I’m really excited.” Her voice was telling the truth but her face seemed to be lying.

“Well I was just making some coffee. Do you want to come in?”

“Could you just bring it out here?” Rachel asked.

Josh nodded and went back inside. Rachel sat still in her car. She didn’t know why she came today. She simply knew they had to talk, and that was as far as she had gotten before driving over.

Inside, Josh poured the coffee, putting only cream in his, and only sugar in hers. He wondered why Rachel seemed so weird today. She just got into the dance school she’d been so stressed for ages about. What was wrong? He slipped something into his pocket, and decided to ask her when he went back outside.

“Coffee with two sugars for you.” Josh handed her the mug through the window. “I washed my hands and made sure to keep it away from my face.”

“I appreciate it Josh, and I’m not worried about getting sick.”

“Is something wrong? You seem less happy than usual,” Josh said gently.

I don’t know, she thought. Something is wrong, but I don’t know exactly what, and I don’t know how to tell you.

“I’m good,” she said, “Just a little tired from everything that’s been going on. Do you want to get in?”

Josh hesitated.

“I’m really not worried about getting sick. I get every vaccine and you know my mom still makes me take those vitamins.”

“Alright,” Josh said, stepping into the car.

Josh sipped his coffee as she began driving. He knew she focused better while she was doing something.

“I’m real proud of you, Rach.”

Her face winced as if she were holding back tears. “Thank you,” she said with a quick flash of a smile.

One of Rachel’s favorite songs was playing in her car. Josh began to quietly sing along, barely noticing he was doing it.

Rachel turned the music down. “How have you been? Besides being sick, of course.”

Josh blinked, his mind had been somewhere else.

“Oh, you know. It’s pretty boring. I’ve been watching a lot of TV,” Josh explained. “I tried going for a run yesterday, but I’m not quite ready to start exercising again.”

“That’s too bad. You seem much better, though,” Rachel said hopefully.

“Yeah, much better. I’m glad you’re not so busy now and you can start coming over more.”

“I’ve got a week or two before I start the summer training, so yeah. For sure.”

“Where are we going?” Josh asked.

“I just focus better on talking when I’m driving, but I do have a couple things to do if you’re okay with sticking around,” said Rachel.

“Of course,” Josh said genuinely, “I’ve missed you these past two weeks, I’d be glad to stick around.”

“Great.” Rachel grabbed his hand.

They caught up for the next few minutes until she got to the drug store.

Rachel finished her coffee and set the mug down. “I’ll be just a minute. It’s for my mom.” Rachel headed inside.

Coffee mug empty and with nothing better to do, Josh glanced around her car. In the back seat he saw his Seinfeld sweatshirt and his Red Sox hat, both of which Rachel had been holding onto.

Almost forgot she had those, Josh thought.

Rachel came back with a small paper bag with the prescription, and a plastic bag that had two bottled drinks in it.

As she sat down, she handed Josh a sparkling water.

“That’s so nice,” he said with a smile, “my throat has been hurting.”

“Don’t mention it.” She smiled back, opening a sports drink.

The next short trip was mostly quiet. The two young people just listened to music and sat in each other’s presence.

I think I’ll do it, Rachel thought.

Should I just do it now? Josh asked himself.

Looking out the window Josh noticed where they were going. “Are we going to the outlook?”

“Yeah, I thought it would be nice.”

“It will be,” said Josh.

They sat on the bench together, shoulders touching slightly.

“We haven’t been talking much,” Rachel said.

“I know, you’ve been so busy. I’ve been sick. It’s nice to talk again.”

“Our–” Rachel started, thinking about whether she would finish the sentence or not. “Our relationship hasn’t been the best recently,” Rachel said, making her decision.

Josh didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded, realizing she had more to say.

“I wasn’t completely honest earlier,” Rachel started. “I didn’t get into the dance school in town.”

Josh opened his mouth to say something, but Rachel continued. “I got into the one in California.”

“California?”

“Yeah,” she said, “LA.”

“That’s amazing,” said Josh, surprised.

“I didn’t know what to do earlier, but a few minutes ago, I made up my mind.”

Josh reached into his pocket. “What did you decide?”

The next words seemed very difficult to say for her, as if she were forcing them out of herself. “Well, I’m going to accept the one in California,” she said, “and I think we should–”

Josh smiled, he knew what she was about to say.

“I think we should end things, Josh,” Rachel said through a lump in her throat.

Josh was stunned.

“Your parents live here, you have a good job, and my mom is going to come with me.”

“You–” Josh started, “you think that’s best?”

“Yeah, Josh. I wish it could be different.”

It can be, he thought, you didn’t talk to me first.

“We can work through it, right?” he began to say, giving it his best shot. “I could come with you, or we could try long distance, or I could just wait until you finish.”

It took everything she had not to break down. “I couldn’t make you leave your parents, and it’s four years, across the country.”

She had made up her mind. Josh knew it. She was already done. She had given up.

“I brought your stuff with me.”

“You can keep it,” Josh said, slightly angry that that’s what she was thinking about. He didn’t care about a sweatshirt and a hat.

“I’ll take you home.”

Josh didn’t know what to say.

“You know I love you, Josh, this is best for both of us.” Her voice was telling the truth but her face said she didn’t truly know. It was as if she was convincing herself to believe it.

Josh put the engagement ring back in his pocket. As she drove him home, neither one said a word.

A Dream for January

by J. Will Cairns

February

I met January in February. She was skiing at Jake’s Mountain. She only had a day pass and I knew she was not a regular. When I saw her sitting alone at the coffee bar, I decided to help her out, trying not to think about how she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.

“I don’t think you want the regular coffee from this place,” I said to her.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” she said shyly.

“Two cappuccinos, please,” I said to the barista Jake (no relation).

“Oh, you don’t have to–” she started to say.

“Trust me, it will change your life,” I interjected, taking a seat.

Jake set the mugs in front of us.

“On the house,” Jake said with a smile. I ignored him, handing him a 20.

“What’s your name?” she asked me.

“Jack,” I said, “They named the mountain after me, they just spelled my name wrong.”

She laughed, flashing a beautiful smile.

“I’m January,” she said.

“What made you decide to ski alone?” I asked her.

“My friend canceled on me at the last minute, but I still wanted to come. I’ve only been skiing a few times.”

“Well, January, I happen to be skiing alone too. Would you like to join me when we finish our coffee?”

“I’d love to.”

May

By May, I knew I loved her. We were shopping at an outdoor mall in the city she lived, about an hour away from my house.

“You know you don’t have to drive down here every time, Jack,” January said as she took a bite of her pretzel.

“You know I don’t mind,” I said with a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to feel bad, it’s a nice drive. Plus, I wouldn’t want your car to break down. With all the problems it’s been having—”

She kissed me. “Thanks,” she said, smiling.

I grabbed her hand and we kept walking.

“You only did that so I’d shut up,” I said jokingly.

She laughed and squeezed my hand, pulling me into a perfume store. She wanted me to help her by picking out a scent that I liked. I didn’t know where to start, so she narrowed it down to about 8 for me to pick from.

“That one,” I said on the fourth one I smelled.

“Try the other ones just in case.”

I tried the others, but the fourth one was the one.

“Ocean Dream,” I said, reading the label out loud.

“Thanks, Jack,” she said as she started to walk up to the counter to pay.

At that moment, something occurred to me that I hadn’t thought of asking her before.

“Wait,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your dream?” I asked her.

“What?”

“If you could do anything, what would you do?” I clarified.

“I want to own a beachside restaurant in Florida.”

“Have you ever been to Florida?” I asked.

“No, but if I could do anything, that’s what I would do.”

“That sounds nice.” I smiled.

She held eye contact with me for a few more seconds, and then went to buy her perfume. I didn’t even try to buy it for her because I knew she wouldn’t let me.

I was glad she didn’t ask me what my dream was.

August

“This place is amazing,” January said, admiring the beachside view.

“It will be yours one day,” I promised.

She had still never asked me what my dream was. Even if she did, I didn’t know if I would tell her the truth.

“Do you know what you want?” she asked, watching the waves crash on the white beach.

It took me a second to realize she was talking about the food. “Uh…Oh, the Cuban sandwich sounds good,” I said.

“Two of those,” she said to the waiter.

January kept staring at the waves, mesmerized. I kept staring at her eyes, mesmerized. She looked back at me and blushed.

“I feel like a celebrity when you look at me like that,” she said, still blushing.

“You are to me,” I said, trying not to sound corny.

She laid her hand on mine from across the table, grabbing it tight. It was her way of saying You too.

The waiter brought the food out, and we enjoyed it as the sunset turned the waves to gold. I don’t remember what we talked about, but I remember feeling more alive than I ever had.

I could live like this, I thought.

March

I married January in March. We decided on a pretty small ceremony on the beach in front of our new restaurant, with our closest friends and family. My parents flew down from New Hampshire, and hers from Massachusetts. It couldn’t have been better.

My dad said something to me at the reception that I will never forget. “You’re doing it right, son,” he said. I don’t think he knew how much that meant to me.

January and I were the last ones there. We had already decided we would clean up the next day. After all, it was our beach.

We were walking down the beach together, and her wedding dress was glowing in the moonlight.

“What’s your dream?” she finally asked me.

“I used to want to own a ski lodge,” I admitted.

“That sounds nice.”

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