The Walk

In this episode I record during a historic Dutch heatwave, on a day officially marked as code red. I talk about waking up at five to cool the house, improvising sun‑blocking with bedsheets, and trying to adapt to temperatures that feel increasingly normal in a changing climate.I explain why I cancelled a planned storytelling workshop for seminarians, even though the topic is close to my heart. Instead, I stay home and continue editing the Camino saints series, reflecting on how much I enjoy spontaneous, on‑location storytelling and how these recordings remind me of my early podcasting days.As I walk, I think aloud about the tension between creative energy and ADHD. New ideas give me momentum, while editing drains it. A helpful insight emerges: instead of “editing” my first novel, I can retell it with everything I’ve learned over the past year. That shift in mindset makes the work feel possible again.I also talk about the frustrations of working within a broadcast organization where I have no control over promotion, and why Substack feels like a better home for building a community around my work. A lunch‑walk story about “a man who wanted to take his horse to heaven” reminds me how essential walking and play are to my creativity, and sparks the idea of sharing daily short stories as a way to reach readers.The episode ends with a reflection on focus, choices, and the need to protect creative space — especially on a day when simply surviving the heat already feels like a full‑time job. Get full access to Father Roderick at fatherroderick.substack.com/subscribe

This week I'm reflecting on something that many creative people struggle with: what happens when motivation disappears.After several busy weeks filled with podcast production, events, travel, administration, and a growing backlog of unfinished tasks, I found myself dealing with fatigue, brain fog, and procrastination. Instead of trying to push harder, I decided to take a closer look at what was really going on.In this episode I talk about the importance of rhythm, the hidden cost of open loops, why journaling helps me make sense of difficult periods, and how I've learned to replace self-criticism with curiosity.I also share updates on several creative projects, including the upcoming Four Days Marches saints series, the Camino podcasts, plans for a book about the saints of the Camino, and my ongoing struggle between chasing exciting new ideas and finishing the stories I've already started.Topics in this episode:• Recovering from mental and physical fatigue• Brain fog, procrastination, and creative work• The value of journaling and self-reflection• Preparing a special saints series for the Four Days Marches• Writing plans for the Saints of the Camino book• Revisiting the Story Mages novel rewrite• Why Ireland keeps calling me back as a writer and pilgrimAs always, thank you for walking with me. Get full access to Father Roderick at fatherroderick.substack.com/subscribe

On the verge of Lent, I found myself asking a different question than usual. Not, what big project can I launch, or how can I make these forty days impressive, but what actually needs rebalancing in my life right now? The past few months taught me that enthusiasm and overcommitment can look very similar from the inside. I love creating, I love writing, I love saying yes to meaningful work. But I also discovered what happens when there is no margin, no boundary, no protected evening. Lent, for me, is not going to be about adding pressure. It is going to be about intention.One of the biggest shifts has been learning to protect my evenings. No more sneaking in extra work, no more late night editing sessions disguised as “creative freedom.” The surprising result is that I am more rested, more focused, and actually more productive during the hours that I do work. I am slowly letting go of the idea that I have to prove myself through constant output. Instead, I am reclaiming agency in healthier ways, like taking long walks and writing simply because I love the story, not because I publicly announced a deadline. That inner freedom changes everything.So for these forty days, I am choosing a quiet commitment. I will write daily, but not as a performance. I will walk, think, pray, and create without turning it into a public challenge. Lent invites us to look honestly at what is out of balance and to take small, deliberate steps toward change. Not for applause, not for productivity, but for peace. Maybe that is the real preparation for Easter, protecting what truly matters so that new life has space to grow. Get full access to Father Roderick at fatherroderick.substack.com/subscribe

This week, I realized something I didn’t expect: doing less can actually help you do more.After weeks of high blood pressure and creeping exhaustion, I finally took a step back to reevaluate how I work. With the help of an AI coach, I started looking at the patterns behind my stress. What emerged was confronting. I’ve spent most of my life in overdrive—driven by deadlines, fueled by people-pleasing, and constantly measuring myself by what I produce. Even when I thought I was resting, I wasn’t. I was just switching gears and calling it downtime.This week, I tried a different approach. One script a day. No work at night. Shorter walks. No “just one more thing” before closing the laptop. And to my surprise, it started working. My mind cleared. I felt calmer. The sense of urgency began to fade. And then something unexpected happened: I finally launched a BookTok channel I’d been overthinking for more than a year. Not out of pressure or guilt, but because I had space to breathe. I had energy again.That’s when I started to understand what it really means to “protect the process.” I’ve always been focused on progress, on finishing, on pushing through. But now I see that the process itself needs care. It needs time, and margin, and trust. You can’t keep planting seeds if the soil is dry and cracked.I used to think rest was a reward you had to earn. Now I’m learning it’s the foundation everything else depends on.If you’ve been feeling overwhelmed or stretched thin, you’re not alone. It’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that you’re only valuable when you’re achieving. But that pressure is a weight we’re not meant to carry. And maybe it’s time we stopped trying to carry the world on our shoulders.We’re not built for that. We’re not superheroes. We’re not gods. We’re just people. Beloved, limited, called—not to be perfect, but to be faithful.And sometimes, being faithful means closing the laptop, stepping outside, and letting the sun remind you that life continues, even when you slow down. Get full access to Father Roderick at fatherroderick.substack.com/subscribe

I had a clear plan for January. It was going to be my month to get away, take a writing retreat, change my surroundings, and recharge after the intense December production sprint. Instead, I stayed home. And I worked. Hard.The new daily podcast about saints has been very well received, which I’m truly grateful for. But each episode takes a lot of effort—researching, writing, recording, and editing. I’ve set myself the goal of always staying a full month ahead, so there’s a buffer in case I get sick or life throws a curveball. That’s why I pushed so hard to finish all the episodes for February this past week.The Saint of the Day podcast demanded everything I had. Twenty episodes, fully written and produced. That’s the length of a short novel in just a few weeks. And while I managed to get it all done, it came at a price. I gave up my daily walks, most of my rest, and ended up sitting at my desk for 10- to 12-hour days. Unsurprisingly, I crashed. Twice.But this time something was different. I didn’t panic. I didn’t beat myself up. I didn’t immediately try to “get back on track.” I let myself crash. I listened to what my body and brain were telling me. And I learned a few things along the way.First, recovery isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s part of the creative rhythm. When I push past that, I don’t win—I just delay the consequences. I’ve done that too many times. This time I stepped back and said, not again.Second, I’ve realized that I often try to regain control of my life too quickly. The moment the pressure lifts, I want to fill the silence with something new: a fresh project, a new idea, a podcast revival. Anything to regain a sense of structure. But I’m learning that when I’m tired, that urge doesn’t come from creativity—it comes from stress.The biggest shift has been learning to sit with that discomfort. To admit, even out loud, that I can’t do it all. That I don’t have the energy right now. That it’s okay to let a few things stay unresolved.And when people ask for my time, even for good things, I’ve started to pause instead of jumping in. I used to say yes out of habit, out of guilt, out of fear of disappointing someone. Now I give myself time to see whether it’s truly right for me in that moment.So no, I didn’t get my retreat this month. But I got something else: clarity. A clearer understanding of how I work, where my limits are, and what I need in order to create sustainably. I’m not making any big decisions right now. I’m still in recovery mode. But I do feel a quiet desire surfacing—a desire to write something small, fun, and manageable. Maybe a short novella. Something I can share with readers who follow my email newsletter. A little time-traveling mystery with monks, maybe.Whatever it ends up being, it feels light. Playful. And that’s a good sign.So no, this January didn’t go to plan. But it still taught me what I needed to learn. Get full access to Father Roderick at fatherroderick.substack.com/subscribe

On the Feast of the Epiphany, I kicked off my new daily Dutch podcast Heilige van de Dag with the first episode about the Magi. It’s a year-long journey, telling the stories of saints and martyrs—one per weekday. The project began with a simple idea: what if I could bring these sometimes dusty old tales to life in a way that makes them feel personal, surprising, and real?But launching a new podcast isn’t just about hitting “publish.” There’s the writing, recording, editing, and promoting. And when it’s in a language and format you’ve never tried before, it’s equal parts thrilling and terrifying.What helped was this: going outside. Making my daily walks non-negotiable. Letting the snow slow me down just enough to reflect and re-center.Because here’s the challenge I’m walking into this year:I want to be creative—but not burned out.I want to publish more stories—but with enough care to make them shine.I want to build something lasting—but without losing joy in the process.That’s why I’m committing to sustainable routines this year: early mornings for writing, focused weeks for podcasting, and hopefully a retreat or two to give new projects the breathing room they deserve.The launch of Heilige van de Dag is only the beginning. There are books to finish, stories to polish, covers to design, readers to reach. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from snow-covered trails and saintly tales, it’s that slow steps can still carry you far—especially when taken with purpose.Thanks for walking with me.– Fr. Roderick Get full access to Father Roderick at fatherroderick.substack.com/subscribe