tyler ward.

I’ve recently heard a lot of people go on about finding their purpose in life. It’s nothing new to me. In fact, my quest for purpose has been a dramatically arduous one. One, in which, I won’t emotionally wear you out with now. Let’s just say that at one point in my life, if Rick Warren in “The Purpose Driven Life” would have told me that my purpose was to eat cow feces, I would be well experienced at getting my stomach pumped by now.

However, I don’t know that it was always the “purpose” of my life I was looking for.  Read more...

I find myself in my small world that has made “love” trendy. It has taken the most dynamic entity in history and made it a tool, strategy, or means to an end. My teenage years, invested in trying to stay out of trouble, told me “love” was the only other option. My scholarly life taught me to present “love” as a currency for good relations with my teachers and, in turn, graduation. My evangelical roots taught me to “love” people to save people. My professional existence gives “love” the role of creating trust and respect in order to empower a contract or partnership. My marriage has persevered through it’s share of days where “love” was simply a tool to make our lives less turbulent, to have better sex, or to get what i want.  Read more...

Having just returned home from a 5 day experience with one of the more dysfunctional boss’ anyone could ever not ask for, this marks the end of my short stint with one of the more dysfunctional companies anyone could not ask to work for. Some of my preceding thoughts come from my natural progression into the professional world; yet, most of them come out of a semi-traumatic work experience, and may be prone to dramatic translation. In either case, here are a few random thoughts I’ve had during this recent seemingly long and rather taxing road of employment.  Read more...

Just as my memoirs of mistakes were about to capsize my heart for the day, Paul walks in wearing a robe and holding a towel. Everything in me wants to fall on my knees and let the tears go. I keep my composure. He doesn’t say hello, just cuts to the chase. “Come here.”

For the next 10 minutes, we stand at his bedroom window and stare at the trees. He’s captivated with a certain kind of leaf, that when inspired by the wind, resembles the crackling of a fire ember.  Read more...