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The dreams of my youth are all dead. One by one, they slipped away until I’d lost everything I once thought was important.

I wanted power and glory. I was completely certain that I would become president of the United States. There was surely some ego involved. And a desire to prove my self-worth. But I wanted to do great things. I really wanted to lead the people. I wanted to show the way to our Promised Land.

I wanted success and wealth. I had a passionate desire to build a newspaper empire. In the days of my youth, newspapers were still the most serious of the news media. The most respected. They were also wildly profitable. I wanted to build the biggest newspaper company in the country.

There were others, but those were my two dominating dreams. They meant everything to me. And yet they slowly died. I’ve talked with you before about some of the reasons why. I held onto them for as long as I could. Longer than I should have, really.

But I understand now. No matter how much we want something — or even someone — the time comes when holding on to a dead dream stops us from accepting something better.

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I never wanted to be a rebel. I didn’t want to oppose the established order of my culture. In fact, I was raised to be a conformist.

My teachers taught me the same myths which you probably learned as a child. My country was great. Our leaders were wise. Right would prevail, because my culture stood for all that was good in the world.

Preachers and parents taught me to obey authority. They taught me to obey the rules I was given. I wasn’t taught to think for myself. I was taught to obey without question. I was trained to be a cog in a very large and well-oiled machine — one which would bring me happiness and prosperity one day.

I was happy with that picture. The world made sense to me. I had my place as a part of that culture. I would be a leader and I would one day do great things to help build the society which I had been taught to love.

But an honest man can’t close his eyes to what he’s seen. Even though it’s not convenient for me, I’ve become a rebel against a culture which binds us with hidden chains and which is leading most of us to spiritual death.

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I haven’t made a new podcast episode since August. It’s not just that I’m being lazy, although that’s sometimes true. Instead, I’m evaluating whether podcasting is a good investment of my time right now.

What I have to say here is mostly about me, so it might not be valuable for many others. Read on only if you’re a creator yourself or if you’re curious what’s going on in my creative world. For others, it might be too much “inside baseball.”

I’d been wanting to try podcasting for close to 15 years, so it was a big deal when I launched my first weekly show in January. For about three months, I did a show each week and I learned a lot. But the arrival of the pandemic and the public crisis it created seemed to make my content out of place for the public mood.

So I pivoted by ending the first season and launching another show, one that would give me wider latitude to cover broader topics. I made seven episodes before I put things on hold to think about what I’m doing.

And the truth is that I’m debating what things to focus on right now — and I wonder whether podcasting will ever be more than ego satisfaction for me. At least anytime soon.

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