Grip books

18/04/2026

18/04/2026

So I finally picked up Theo of Golden by Allen Levi ag.

I'd been seeing it everywhere—on the New York Times bestseller list, popping up on my feed, friends whispering about it like they'd discovered some secret. And honestly? I was skeptical. A self-published book by a first-time author in his 60s? A story about an 86-year-old stranger who wanders into a small Georgia town and starts buying portraits off a coffeehouse wall? It sounded… quiet. Maybe even a little slow.

But then I read the first page. And then another. And another.

And somewhere around page 50, I realized I was smiling. Not the kind of smile you paste on for a photo. The kind that sneaks up on you when something warm cracks open in your chest.

Theo arrives in the fictional town of Golden with no fanfare. No one knows where he came from or why he's there. He stumbles into a local coffeehouse called The Chalice (yes, that kind of chalice—more on that in a minute) and finds 92 pencil portraits hanging on the wall. Drawn by a local artist, they capture the faces of the townspeople: a homeless woman, a janitor, a music student, a bookstore owner, an accountant, a father whose daughter is lying in a hospital bed.

And Theo does something extraordinary. He buys every single portrait. Then he tracks down each person, one by one, and gives it back to them.

That's it. That's the plot. A stranger returning drawings to strangers and sitting down to listen to their stories.

It shouldn't work. It really shouldn't.

But it does.

Here's the thing about Theo of Golden—it's not a perfect novel. Even the fans will tell you that. The middle sags a little. Theo himself is almost too good, too patient, too wise, like someone ironed all the wrinkles out of him . And if you're the kind of reader who needs car chases and plot twists and people yelling at each other, this book will bore you to tears.

But if you're the kind of reader who has been quietly, deeply exhausted by the cruelty of the world lately—the shouting, the scrolling, the sense that no one really sees anyone anymore—then this book is going to hit you like a glass of cold water on a hot day.

Because Theo does something that feels almost radical now: he pays attention. He looks people in the eye. He asks questions and then actually listens to the answers. He tells a homeless woman that he sees beauty in her face, and he means it. He helps a janitor pay his daughter's medical bills and then disappears before anyone can thank him .

One of my favorite lines comes when Theo is describing what he saw in the portraits: "For anything to be truly good, there must be love in it. Nothing is what it's supposed to be if love is not at the core" .

It's cheesy. I know it's cheesy. But I underlined it anyway, and I haven't stopped thinking about it.

The faith thing (because people are talking about it)

Yes, this is a Christian book. The coffeehouse is called The Chalice. Characters quote Scripture. There's a long funeral scene with pages of sermonizing . If that's not your thing, you should know going in.

But here's what surprised me: it doesn't feel preachy. Or maybe it does, but not in the way I expected. The Christianity in this book isn't the fire-and-brimstone kind or the political kind or the "I'm-better-than-you" kind. It's the old-fashioned, quiet, works-not-just-faith kind. The kind that says faith without action is dead and that mercy is always better than justice .

One character—a grandmother—puts it this way when her family is deciding whether to punish an undocumented immigrant who caused a terrible accident: "Baby, they's justice and they's mercy. If you not sure what to do and you gotta choose one or the other, I say always go the mercy way" .

That line stopped me. Because it's not complicated. It's not intellectual. It's just… kind. And somehow kindness has become the most countercultural thing there is.

Read this if you're tired. Read this if you've been doomscrolling and feeling like the world is getting darker by the day. Read this if you need to be reminded that there are still people who show up, who sit down, who give without wanting anything back.

Don't read this if you're looking for fast-paced action or morally gray antiheroes or prose that will make you feel smart. Theo is not complicated. He's not conflicted. He's a saint, plain and simple—and some readers find that boring .

But here's what I think: maybe we need boring saints right now. Maybe we need someone who just shows up and listens and pays the hospital bill and goes home. Maybe that's the most radical thing a person can do in 2026.

I closed this book and just sat with it for a while. Then I texted two friends and told them I loved them. Then I looked at my own calendar and wondered how much of my week was spent actually seeing the people in front of me versus just rushing past them.

Theo of Golden isn't going to change literature. But it might change you—just a little. Just enough to make you put down your phone, look someone in the eye, and ask, "How are you really doing?"

And then actually wait for the answer.

Have you read this yet? I need to know—did it make you cry, or was that just me?

17/04/2026

Nobody tells you discipline is not about being tough. It's about being smart.

I learned this the hard way. For years, I thought discipline meant gritting my teeth and powering through. I'd make grand resolutions, wake up at 5 AM, run every day, write 2,000 words before breakfast, and I'd last about a week. Then I'd collapse, feel like a failure, and wait for motivation to rescue me. Motivation never came.

Then I found Damon Zahariades's How to Lead a Disciplined Life. The subtitle hooked me: A Stress-Free Guide to Developing Self-Discipline, Increasing Willpower, and Improving Self-Control. Stress-free? Discipline and stress-free did not belong in the same sentence. But Zahariades promised something different: not more willpower, but less friction. Not more grit, but better systems.

He was right. And this book changed everything.

5 Lessons That Will Change How You Approach Discipline:

1. Motivation Is a Liar. Do Not Wait for It.
This is the first lesson, and it is the most important. We tell ourselves: "I'll start when I feel motivated." But motivation is an emotion. It comes and goes. If you wait for it, you will wait forever. Motivation follows action. It does not precede it.

The implication is radical: you do not need to feel like doing something to do it. You just need to start. The feeling comes after. This is why "just show up" is such powerful advice. Showing up is the action. Motivation is the reward.

2. Remove the Friction. Add the Friction.
Zahariades introduces two simple concepts: friction (anything that makes a behavior harder) and anti-friction (anything that makes a behavior easier). To build a good habit, remove friction. Put your running shoes next to your bed. Sleep in your workout clothes. Prep your breakfast the night before. The fewer decisions you have to make, the less willpower you need.

To break a bad habit, add friction. Delete social media apps from your phone. Put the TV remote in a drawer. Unplug the video game console and store the cord in another room. Make the bad behavior annoying enough that it is not worth the effort.

3. Decision Fatigue Is Real. Reduce Your Choices.
Every decision you make drains your willpower. What to wear. What to eat. What to work on first. By the end of the day, you have nothing left. The solution is to reduce the number of decisions you make. Create routines. Automate what you can. Wear a uniform (or a "capsule wardrobe"). Eat the same breakfast every day. Schedule your workouts at the same time.

4. The 2-Minute Rule Is Magic
If a habit takes less than two minutes to start, do it immediately. Do not think. Do not negotiate. Just do it. Putting away dishes? Two minutes. Sending that email? Two minutes. Making your bed? Two minutes. Zahariades explains that the 2-Minute Rule works because it bypasses your brain's resistance. Your brain can argue with a 20-minute task. It cannot argue with a 2-minute task. By the time the two minutes are up, you are already doing the thing. And starting is the hardest part.

5. Forgive Yourself. Then Start Again.
This was the lesson I needed most. Zahariades is honest about the fact that you will fail. You will skip a workout. You will eat the cake. You will waste an afternoon on your phone. The difference between disciplined people and undisciplined people is not that disciplined people never fail. It is that they do not let one failure become two.

I have read a dozen books on discipline and habit formation. This is the one I recommend to friends who say "I just do not have the willpower." Because Zahariades understands that willpower is not the problem. Systems are the problem. Environment is the problem. The belief that you need to feel motivated before you act is the problem.

You do not need more willpower. You need less friction. You need a timer. You need permission to start small. You need to forgive yourself when you fail.

15/04/2026

You ever have a conversation with someone about politics or religion and halfway through realize… you’re not just disagreeing, you’re almost speaking different languages? Like you’re both making points, but neither side is really landing. And instead of clarity, it turns into frustration—or worse, distance. What makes it harder is that both sides genuinely believe they’re being reasonable. That tension—where good intentions still lead to division—is what pulled me into The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion by Jonathan Haidt. I wasn’t trying to pick a side—I just wanted to understand why these conversations feel so difficult.

As I listened, it didn’t frame people as irrational or extreme. It broke things down in a way that made disagreement feel more understandable—less about intelligence, and more about how people are wired to think and feel.

These are the 7 lessons that stayed with me:

1. We often decide first, then justify later. I used to believe people formed opinions by carefully analyzing facts. But the audiobook highlights that most of our judgments—especially around moral or political issues—start intuitively. We feel something is right or wrong almost instantly, and then our reasoning steps in to support that feeling. That’s why debates can feel unproductive—because people aren’t just defending ideas, they’re defending instincts.

2. Your “moral lens” shapes what you see as important. I realized how two people can look at the same issue and focus on completely different aspects. The audiobook emphasizes that people prioritize different moral values—like fairness, loyalty, authority, or care—and those priorities shape their conclusions. It’s not always about facts; it’s about what each person sees as most important.

3. Understanding doesn’t require agreement. I used to think that if I understood someone’s perspective, it meant I had to agree with it. But the audiobook highlights that understanding is separate from agreement. You can recognize why someone thinks the way they do without adopting their position. That shift makes conversations less defensive and more open.

4. Groups influence beliefs more than we realize. I noticed how often people align with the views of the groups they belong to—whether it’s social circles, communities, or ideologies. The audiobook emphasizes that our sense of belonging can shape our beliefs, sometimes even more than evidence does. Challenging a belief can feel like challenging someone’s identity.

5. Disagreement often feels personal because it touches values, not just opinions. I realized why certain topics feel more intense than others. The audiobook highlights that when conversations involve moral values, disagreement can feel like a personal rejection. That emotional layer is what makes these discussions more charged.

6. Listening is more effective than arguing. I used to think stronger arguments would lead to better understanding. But the audiobook emphasizes that people are more open when they feel heard. Listening first—without immediately trying to counter—creates space for a more productive exchange.

7. Humility makes conversations more productive. I noticed how easy it is to become certain about your own perspective. The audiobook highlights that recognizing the limits of your own understanding makes it easier to stay open. That openness doesn’t weaken your position—it makes it more grounded.

Since finishing it, I’ve started approaching difficult conversations differently. I listen more, react less quickly, and try to understand what values are driving the other person’s perspective.

It hasn’t eliminated disagreement.

But it’s made it less frustrating.

And I’m starting to understand that division isn’t always about people being unreasonable…

it’s often about people caring deeply about different things, and not realizing it.

15/04/2026

One of my favorite things over the years has been seeing where The Shack has traveled.

On nightstands and back porches. Tucked into carry-on bags. Open in quiet corners I will never see, except through the photos you so kindly share.

These glimpses mean more to me than I know how to say. They remind me that this story was never really mine. It has always belonged to the spaces where it meets you.

If you have a photo of your copy of The Shack, I would love to see it. Feel free to share it in the comments.