Witt's End

I am obsessed with a perfectly sharpened pencil. The thinnest lead or finest point I can manage. Usually slightly harder than the mean. I don't need it super dark. I need it fast. Sure. Almost forcing a light touch. Scratching not scribbling my prose. One that feels right. Probably moving this way because my handwriting is so damn small.  Recently I've started using fountain pens for my inked needs. Some people choose fountain pens for gravitas or luxury. My change was arguably a more practical one. Being able to write with lighter pressure. Hand injuries build interesting needs. So after a little experimentation I settled on a plastic student and a plastic pocket pen. Both Kawecos with a fine and an extra fine nib respectively. After all of that I came to a realization. I was chasing a first love. A continuing subconscious obsession. The finer and firmer nibbed fountain pens were about chasing the feel of a smooth freshly sharpened pencil. The evidence is obvious. Gravitating ...

I worry that we are sometimes too obsessed with being holy. So focused we lose sight of what's happening day to day, and who's around in the here and now.  I know I have fallen into the trap of seeking extreme spiritual edification and enlightenment all the time. And at times I found it. Or I thought I did. At least a set of actions that told me I felt holy. Actions that became more and more performative. So it led not to being but to appearing holy all the time. And all too often appearing or attempting to appear holier than thou. It was fake. And I wasn't feeling awe. I was going through a set of motions. And I worry when we make the pursuit of holiness and worship a checklist instead of an authentic lived experience. The insincerity is especially visible in our interactions with others. And we can't hide it.  What exactly am I talking about? And what do we do about it? --- I'm writing this a week removed from Easter, Holy week. I think that should tell you where ...

 I wrote these on Sunday March 29th 2026, a grey Palm Sunday.  --- there is only time life is the fleeting of spring until it's over ---- Pain can be constant Unrelentless reminders Of a Body's time ---- the Sun will come back Day after Day after Day Time after Time

 As I grow older I've become much less comfortable negatively addressing other people's theology and faith. There are different ways to worship. Different interpretations of the Bible. Different ways to follow Jesus. Shoot there are other deities that garner awe, respect, and devotion. I can't comment on conversion and conviction in a fair manner, especially if I want the same in return. Faith shouldn’t be a debate, it should be an experience. One we can share with others openly, freely, and without fear. I don't feel I can challenge the root of that faith itself.  What I do feel more confident in doing is confronting harmful policies and actions; even if those have been informed by faith. We can look at daily actions and weigh in on those.  I have come to find that what alarms me most are those actions that are coercive or cause harm to others.  That's the line. Two years ago I wrote , "We can't be surprised that humans who have diverse needs for mental a...

 I had a thought in sacrament meeting today. It's been a long time since I felt a sense of awe or wonder at church. I can think of multiple times I've been awed by the beauty and wonder of the natural world around me. The time I felt stirred by a piece of music or a work of art. Felt grace at the hands of another's care and service. But I haven't felt that at church. And I'd be lying if at times it hasn't made me wonder if I'm broken.  I see the emotion in talks, hear the people that are moved. It just isn't resonating with me the same way anymore. I want to connect with the people. I want my children to have a spiritual foundation. I want to have a place where I can discuss doctrine and scripture. And in our current ward we have, I have some of that.  Yet. I just don't feel the wonder. I don't feel moved. Here. But I'd like too. I think my calibration for what is emotional and what is spiritual may be part of it. It's different than I us...

I have to write on the current state of War. I feel a compulsion. It is my realization that I just have to be measured. So I will attempt to.  It is not my intention to here debate the political decisions behind the current conflict with Iran. I am also not here to debate the tactical decision making. There's a simple answer why, I'm still gathering information. I have to do that to develop my own opinion. This is a very dynamic scenario unfolding before our eyes. None of us have the whole picture yet. I hope I am taking the time to deliberate on something smaller in scope, and personally highly impactful in this scenario. Something closer to home. I'm looking at motivations and justifications, and a single one at that. There is something dangerous about the conflation of government actions with divine sanction. This becomes especially fraught when we conflate a military action with a scriptural mandate. When we combine faith with the state in a way to almost turn it into a...

I stopped writing for awhile. It was just too hard. There was a block between the pen and the brain. My fingers couldn't put together what I was feeling. And thoughts kept on racing by.  What was strange was it wasn't a lack of energy that kept me back. If anything it was too much. Which is probably strange to more than a few people.  There are times when my brain races. Ideas are a dime a dozen. They just keep coming. Normally I'd take the time to filter. Wait a second. But not at times like this. Every thought seems important. Worthy. I have to catch them all. Chasing until the point of decision paralysis. Every idea needs equal time I can't give.  So then the crash happens. And every idea looks like trash. Pure refuse. What's the point? Other than doubt.  I can't write in that pendulum swing. Not anything worthwhile.  I set a goal this year to write everyday. Develop the mental musculature, the discipline to push through moments. To increase productivity....

What are you looking for in a piece of art? Doesn't matter the medium. I'm thinking broad here and looking at all of the arts.  When you go seeking a painting, sculpture, song, photograph, novel, poem, movie, show, play, album; what are you seeking? Is it always the same? Does it change? When you think about art that spoke to you? Matters? Affected you? What was it? Were you chasing catharsis for something you were experiencing? Did you find something new? Was your mind expanded or affirmed, both? Did you look into the creator? Or live in the moment? Have you revisited it? Yes, no, often? Did you share it? Attempt to? Or hold it tight? Did you seek more like it? So many questions. Never ending I think. With as many or more answers possible. Outside of my human relationships (romantic, familial, and friendly), I can honestly say that what has enriched my life the most is the arts. There's no question. For me the mediums I find myself drawn to the most are music and written w...

The hand was easier to notice. I assumed it came first. Were the thoughts really that far behind. Or did they even come first. Sometimes changes to our cognition are just harder to notice.  A tremor. Weakness. Pain. Dropping things. Hand writing worsening. Those are all glaring spotlights, right? Let's contrast that.  A mild change in memory. Being stuck on a name. Taking longer to recall or recognize something or someone. That can be so much harder to notice.  Thoughts are fickle things. They often change. They rarely truly persist as a constant. There's too many variables. Cognitive and behavioral changes are difficult to quantify, especially deficits. I personally think it's especially so for a few reasons.  First. In life we change our minds. Simple enough. We have new experiences. We learn new information. Our thought patterns and hopefully our behavior changes accordingly. That's just part of the human experience.  Which leads to the second point. We just ...

Freud thought it was Sex. Nietzsche would talk about a will to power. Others love. Some money. What's the common thread. The meaning of life. I come down somewhere with Frankl. Meaning. Purpose.  For us men that's often compared to our profession. But is that everything?  My job gives me purpose. It's a great job. I feel fulfilled to help people, make a difference. Yet with all that, it's not the main source of meaning in my life. No. There's a lot more to life. Things that give more meaning. Make life worth living and experiencing. Most of all my wife. She's everything. The best of us. The best of me. Then I got four kids. They're the world. The fun. The chaos. The pride. I love them all for who they each are. And we got the cats and dog. They aren't easy always. But they're fuzzy. They love and they care. In their way.  So I exist with them. In a life full of music, literature, art, and nature. Fill it with laughter and good food. Make it a life wo...

When possible sacred writings should be treated with respect. I hate to add this part but it should be regardless of if you share the view of their sacredness or not.  That doesn't mean that scripture needs to be placed on a pedestal. That's dependent on tradition. But it should be used appropriately. I've been hard on scriptures. Physical copies of them. I've carried them in uniform pockets in field. I've read and worn copies to the point the pages fall out or the covers separate. That's what happens when you use things. I would argue properly.  What's horrible is purposeful damage or debasement of someone else's holy text. When I was a missionary someone burned a copy of the Quran on the campus where I was serving. Earlier this week a Quran was struck with a slab of bacon and an attempt to burn it was made. What's most concerning is that Christianity was invoked by apologists in this instances.  How can we let this stand? As a member of the Mormon ...

Often public service requires actions that require compromise with our values. Actions that are at odds with faith and practice. That can cause long-term emotional stress and cognitive challenges. This can include a lot of things. Shame at perpetration. Guilt at surviving. Anger at being on the sidelines. A loss of trust in oneself. All of the above are signs of moral injury.  Some of you are wondering the hell am I talking about? What's moral injury? Some call it a soul wound, but that doesn't really explain it does it. So I'll turn to a couple definitions to lay the ground work.  First from the VA's National Center for PTSD , " In traumatic or unusually stressful circumstances, people may perpetrate, fail to prevent, or witness events that contradict deeply held moral beliefs and expectations." And a similar definition from Syracuse University's Moral Injury Project , " Moral injury is the damage done to one’s conscience or moral compass  when that...

 What has become Christian theology has always been debated. It was hashed out and formed over years of treatise writing and attempts at rhetorical persuasion that led to the creeds and interpretations we have today.  To think there is one simple all encompassing and easily understood theology that answers all problems and questions is the height of hubris. We lean into interpretation and understanding informed by our experiences and overall understanding. Early theologians and church fathers are amazing examples of this. We have regional variances. We have philosophical differences (Plato, the stoics, and the cynics were all often competing influences). And we have strongly various represented priorities. How did the ancient church handle this? Debates. Then a vote. Then a declaration of what was doctrine and what was heresy. It still happens today.  And it's not new. The debates over what we call Christian or not wouldn't surprise the early church fathers, the wouldn't ...

This is my feeble (if long-winded) attempt at bridge building and understanding. I started this piece weeks ago. I shelved it after the Charlie Kirk assassination. I picked it back up after President Nelson passed and then had a night where I could stop writing here and elsewhere following the shooting and arson of the chapel in Grand Blanc. I'd be lying if this was easy to commit to paper. But I have to. Rarely have I felt this level of compulsion to write. To share what I have to say.  Let me try. Here's a start. My faith is not what it once was. Surety has been replaced by hope. Which probably isn't a bad thing. The focus is more on fundamentals of belief and the actions they bring.  I have absolutely struggled with the theology, doctrines, practices, policies, and culture surrounding the faith of my youth. I'm open and honest about that. But I worry that's not always returned. The honest assessment that we all struggle with the teachings and guidance of such a l...