The Weekly Spark: Original Photography & Reflections

There's no reason I should've seen him. He was the size of a quarter, a baby frog sitting on ninety-degree black asphalt, blending right in. I saw him out of the corner of my eye.

​I heard that quote recently and it stuck with me. The speaker was a prepper talking about spending a weekend with his daughter, reminding us that the point of preparing is to enjoy right now, not to spend all our time worrying about later.

I couldn't help but think of Nick and all our fishing trips we enjoyed together. One of his greatest talents was reaching into a tackle box full of old lures, knotted line, and mismatched hooks, pulling something together, and making it work. He didn't need the newest rod or the most expensive bait. He just needed to be on the shore with a line in the water. I'd bring my own gear, but most of the time I'd be watching him—taking picture after picture of a kid who was completely in his element. Those photos still bring it all back, years later.

When I crossed into Colorado on my bike ride across America and snapped a photo in front of the “Welcome to Colorful Colorado” sign, everything changed. For some, that sign is just a spot for a quick picture. For me, it meant something deeper.

This photo of my dog Ace as a puppy says it: Be yourself. Ace was always curious, playful, and present, never pretending to be anything he wasn’t. I miss him, but the lesson he taught me still sticks: life is better when you stop worrying about appearances and live. That’s a big part of why I stepped away from social media.

Sometimes the road provides exactly what you need before you even know you’re going to need it.
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Back in 2017, while I was on my solo bicycle ride across America, I hit a wall in the small town of Eminence, Missouri. The day before the "wall" appeared, I had a chance meeting with a man named Wil and his family. They were incredibly gracious, inviting me to breakfast and seeing me off with Wil's email address. At the time, it felt like a nice gesture; 24 hours later, it became a lifeline.

The air in Idaho has a specific kind of stillness, especially when you’re out on the water. Years ago, while fishing with my son, one of those quiet moments was captured perfectly.
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Truth be told, he always did much more of the actual fishing than I did. I was often content to just be there, camera in hand, watching the rhythm of the cast and the water. Because of that, I was fortunate enough to be ready when this dragonfly decided that the very tip of his fishing pole was the best seat in the house.

Lately, the news feels nonstop. I've been making a point to be more selective about what I pay attention to. Taking breaks from the constant updates is something I'm choosing to do more regularly now.
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Instead of the headlines, I put on a playlist of songs I grew up with—mostly 70s tracks.

Sometimes, the biggest sources of motivation don't come from books or seminars. They come from the people right in front of us—or in this case, the people on the other end of a text message.

Welcome to the first Monday of the New Year.
Usually, this is the week of grand declarations. I see so many messages telling us to "crush our goals," "reinvent ourselves," and hustle harder than ever before. But if you are reading this, I have a feeling you are looking for something different. You might be looking for a life that is less about more and more about meaning.

​That is why, for my very first Motivational Monday of 2026, I am turning to the late, great rock musician Warren Zevon.

This week’s post is a little different than usual. Rather than sharing my own interpretation, I want to provide a space for you to find your own.

Captured in Garden Valley, Idaho, this image is for you to define.