The Mirage

In this most precious gift we all share called life,

we often cross paths with an entity.

Much like a Mirage in the desert.

The Mirage has a way of pulling us back into old patterns,

time and time again.

Each time stunned by its beauty, mystery, awe…

Mistaken for love, for comfort, for status.

It’s a lesson we can’t seem to learn.

Can we?

Maybe it’s the reason we came to the desert in the first place:

to escape the temptation that lies in the Mirage.

Because we know, deep down,

as much as we try to fight the Mirage,

our mind always takes us back

to that initial feeling it brought us.

The Mirage promises hope,

but delivers only dust.

In this damned desert,

where dust is just as common as air.

And once we open ourselves to the Mirage,

we are often left with nothing left to give.

The Mirage is what ignites the fire within us,

an unexplainable burning zeal.

And that fire,

once pain,

becomes the forge that builds us stronger than before.

So next time the Mirage presents itself,

we can see it for what it is.

So we never fall for the beauty of the Mirage, again.

I once fell for a Mirage…

It made me unknow myself…

It left me with anger I poured into lifting,

emptiness that brought me back to faith,

doubt that sparked creation into what you’re reading now,

And a silence so sharp it forced me to find my voice.

The Mirage in my life

led me to strip down all the noise

and go after what truly matters,

what is truly good for me.

To chase what no longer drains me,

but fuels me.

My Mirage forced me

to believe in myself.

That, my friends, is the paradox of the Mirage:

it strips us,

breaks us,

burns us,

and yet from the rubble,

we rise stronger than before.

The Mirage.

Confession

Psalm 42:1 “As the deer longs for running streams, so my soul longs for you, O God.”

Friday, August 22, 2025 — First Confession.

Here I am. At the Cathedral.

For my first confession.

While waiting, a Eucharistic Adoration takes place.

The church is quiet, you can hear every movement, every footstep.

We all side-shuffle from the easternmost side of the church to the westernmost side.

A lot of people, all here for the same reason.

It’s almost my turn to go into the confession booth.

The nerves set in, heart pounding out of my chest.

I slow my breathing, fixing my eyes to the Eucharist at the altar.

In my hand, the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC),

everything we stand for, our rules, and our lore.

Inside, a Post-it with my confessions written out.

Bookmarked pages hold the prayers I whisper during this solemn moment.

I inch closer and closer to the booth.

Nerves, nerves, nerves.

Heart races again.

The bright light still red.

I wait.

Then suddenly.

The bright light once red, now green.

It’s go time.

The patron before me steps out.

My turn. No turning back now.

I walk up to the historic wooden booth.

Father is chilling inside, waiting.

I kneel, open the Catechism to my confession.

“Bless me father for I have sinned”.

I list them off.

He says, “Wow that was a great confession”.

He asks about my background.

I give him my story.

He gives me Psalm 42 as my penance.

We pray together.

Close out our Confession Session.

I exit, making my way to the front of the church,

resuming the Eucharistic Adoration.

Reading Psalm 42, wondering why I was given that

and not the Hail Marys and Our Fathers often given out.

I didn’t soften my confessions.

I got right to the point.

It was personal.

They revealed my flaws as a man.

We even laughed after I confessed.

But I walked out with a clean soul.

This was nice.

A weight lifted, all the noise silenced.

I felt one with the Father,

gazing at the Son upon the Cross, 

while the incense rose like the Spirit.

What I associated with intimidation.

Is now warm. Comforting.

Here is the reason.

Here is the why.

Now I truly understand.

Who Art Thou?

We are born into families and join circles

with codes, rules, and unspoken hierarchies.

And from our inception, we’re told: this is what matters to you.

But who are we really?

Often we’re given a name, a box, a label, long before we’ve had the chance to figure it out ourselves. 

Years pass and we live under those definitions, convinced that we are who we were always told to be.

It reminds me of the movie Big Daddy (1999), when Sonny asks Julian if he even likes his own name,

and gives him the autonomy to pick a new name of his choosing that best represents him at the moment.

He chose Frankenstein.

It’s funny, but it resonated. 

Because sometimes we never stop to ask if we even like the names, roles, and codes we’ve inherited.

But…

Then something cracks the script.

We do the thing we never thought possible.

Suddenly the mirror shatters, our reflection is gone, our already written script erased.

The baseline shifts.

The perception of yourself begins to warp.

And now we’re haunted by that realization,

that maybe we’ve been underselling ourselves all along.

That maybe we can outpace the person we thought ourselves to be.

We chase, outrun, push.

But the shadow doesn’t vanish, It can only grow as we do.

It only grows as we grow.

Still, we can’t un-know the version of ourselves that was handed to us.

We’re not confined to the box they gave us.

We can outpace it. Outrun it. Outgrow it.

It may scare people that initially gave us these labels.

Or they may see us as rejecting something they hold sacred.

But their limiting idea of us was never us.

It was only for their comfort.

And although the safe and comfortable route is tempting.

It isn’t who we are.

At least not deep down.

There's a version of us without limits.

Don’t shrink to fit a perception.

Don’t make yourself smaller for comfort.

Be unboxed.

The Desert

This season is different.

Not in a bad way.

The Desert is just:

quieter, darker, and more reflective.

Christ had to go to the Desert for forty days

before He began His ministry.

Moses wandered the Desert for forty years

during the Exodus,

in search of the promised land.

And in our own way,

we must do the same.

Last season was the Builder’s Season:

an external growth of lifting,

taking risks,

laying our foundation.

A time to do whatever it takes

to become the best version of ourselves.

There was light,

because risks once terrifying

became victories we could see in real time.

We smiled,

because what was once frightening

had become our new normal.

But every season of light

must pass through shadows,

so the light to come

shines even brighter.

So we say farewell to the season of the builder,

and hello to the season of the Desert.

This is an internal growth,

our unseen strength being forged

beneath all the layers.

We must take time alone with ourselves

to figure out this gift called life

and how we fit into a story

much larger than us.

This season is dedicated to us.

It will strip us down.

But whatever can survive here

is truly unshakeable.

We will come out on the other side of the Desert,

bigger, and better.

The Desert season may seem isolating,

but it allows us to see

what we could not see before.

But be aware:

the Desert is full of mirages,

temptations clothed as beauty,

distractions dressed as need.

These will make us nothing

but strangers to ourselves.

They will not give us clarity,

but turn us into someone

we do not recognize anymore.

Because in this stripped season we call the Desert

is where we truly find out

what greatness we are capable of.

And when we return,

as long as we stick through it,

the love for ourselves

will be greater than we could ever imagine.

This is the Desert Season:

the season of refinement.

The Desert Season: Guide

• Builder & Drifter; Two archetypes within every person. One who builds life from the foundation up. One who blows wherever the wind takes them.

• Crossovers; When our timeline temporarily converges with anothers, every interaction you have ever had.

• Desert; A place of trial and stripping away nonsense. Where silence is needed and noise is a distraction.

• Life in Seasons; The rhythm that built all of this. Nothing in our lives is permanent but us. Every stage of our life has a distinct purpose.

• Mirages; Illusions of fulfillment that take more from you the more you chase after them.

• Noise; Distractions. Dulls our souls , always waiting for you at your weakest points.

• Oasis; Brief but necessary moments of pure Clarity. Rest. Answers.

• Refinement; Our fire within us that burns the excess and leaves us only with what is necessary.

• New Strange; When timeless becomes radical. Once expected, now odd.

• Watchtower; Gained perspective from above the noise, it’s where you see it for what it truly is.