Do you ever find yourself in a rut you swore you’d never fall into again? Maybe you let people walk all over you because you’re a people-pleaser. Maybe it’s an old belief you’ve carried for years, whispering that you’re not enough. Either way, the result is the same: it hurts. You feel burned out and unappreciated, or just plain numb.
And it’s never just one rut. We are so multi-layered that potential ruts are all over the landscape of our lives. I often catch myself traveling the same tired paths that get me nowhere.
As both a writer and someone with a flexible day job, my schedule isn’t strict. That freedom can be a blessing, but often, it becomes an excuse. Instead of writing, I find myself chasing distractions: folding laundry that could wait, wiping down counters that are already clean, wandering to the kitchen for a snack I don’t need. And of course, there’s the endless scroll through social media because I “deserve a break.”
The truth? These detours leave me empty. Soon, the negativity creeps in, and the old tapes start playing: You’re too old. You don’t have anything worthwhile to say. It’s a worn-down, well-traveled path.
Then, in the middle of one of these cycles, I read this scripture:
Gospel: Matthew 13:1–9
“And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path, and birds came and ate it up… But some seed fell on rich soil, and produced fruit, a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold…”
I imagined that path, trampled on, rained on, and hardened. My habits and distractions have made my inner soil just like that. Seeds of inspiration fall there, but they can’t take root. They’re snatched away by old fears and self-doubt.
Can the soil on my hardened path be loosened up again and made fertile? I can’t just rake over it. Leaves and debris might cover it for a time, but it is still there.
Paths can be changed. Soil can be tilled.
I realized that in my writing life, and in my soul, I need to take a hoe to that hardened path. I can’t just cover it with leaves of busyness or good intentions. I have to dig deep, break the layers apart, and expose the soil to air and water. Only then can new seeds grow.
What does that look like for me?
- Hoe the path: Cut away my distractions of aimless scrolling, unnecessary snacking, wandering down memory lanes that lead to self-pity.
- Air it out: Sit in silence. Be vulnerable. Let the soul breathe.
- Fertilize: Nourish the soil with prayer, scripture, and the wisdom of saints and spiritual mentors.
- Await the seeds: When inspiration comes, I can water it with attention and care, letting it take root and grow into something fruitful.
I’m learning that breaking a rut isn’t about willpower alone; it’s about preparing the soil of my life to receive new life.
Sylvia M. Olberding 