Well, well, well

I usually start letters and emails with "well." I often use the word as a subject line.


Every. single. one. of My Man's mission letters starts with "well."(So funny.)


I like the word "well." It allows time to think. It interrupts awkward pauses. It signals it's time to go. Beginning a letter that way makes you feel like you're already in the middle of a conversation. It is the universal ice breaker. 


Then there's the other type of well. The deep chasm where water is drawn - the basis of all life. When I say "well" in a conversation, I like to think I'm digging deeper, reaching down to draw up something life-sustaining and precious.


(Or maybe I think too much? Entirely possible.)


Well, I've been excavating my well lately. Digging deeper. Trying to increase my capacity, my potential, myself.

I've been taking some classes. A weekly scripture course. An 8-week photography class. A weekly book club on steroids.

This latter well-digger-outer is called Five Pillars. (Wiki does a merely okay job of explaining.) I prefer calling it a "personal enrichment course," or maybe "leadership training," but that sounds kinda cheesy for every day conversation.

The idea is to improve ourselves  by reading classics (on the list this year: Les Mes, tons of Shakespeare, Jane Eyre, etc.), writing essays, lots of discussion, and public speaking.

Homework. Lots of homework.

And I love it.

As I feel my well getting deeper, inch by inch, I'm staring to see others in a new light. Myself in a new light. I am asking questions I don't know the answers to, and eagerly searching to quiet my curiosity. I read books differently now.

I dog-ear pages, I take notes. I ask questions about the character, the motivations, the implications for my life. Then I write about it.

It's exhausting, all this well-digging.

But necessary in a drought.

I've been thirsty.