It has been almost a decade since the Hebron Covenant.

That’s what I call the promises I made to myself as my life lay mostly in ruins.

I was living in a place I could no longer afford after the recession and could not sell. I was very much alone, having dissolved a long and meaningful marriage, my daughter was furious at me, my new editor had no interest in my writing,  I had no money in the bank, was living a life of delusion and complete loss of perspective, had lost all of my friends in life and had almost completely broken down.

I was ravaged by fear and depression. Like most men I know, I lived a life of quiet desperation. “From the desperate city,” wrote Thoreau, “you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats.”

I had broken into pieces, disgraced and humiliated.

I very clearly remember the day – it was just before Thanksgiving, like now, and I took my dog Rose up onto the hills behind my farm with the sheep and stood at the top of the world with her as they grazed. I was reading St. Augustine up there and was in awe of the disaster I had made of my life.

I could hardly believe what I had done to myself. I consoled myself with the bravery of muskrats.

So I made myself a covenant that day, I have never really written much about it, I called it the Hebron Covenant, because that was where I was living, and I was drawn to the biblical name I think. I suppose St. Augustine inspired me, along with so many others I had read.

“Love, and do what you like,” preached St. Augustine. “God provides the wind, but man must raise the sails.”

I made some promises to myself.

I promised that I would seek the help I needed to understand myself and my life and to change my life for the time remaining to me. I committed to intensive talking therapy with a very intense and blunt and highly trained counselor I trusted completely. I committed myself to this process with all of my heart and soul and energy. I would not stop until I was well.

I promised my therapist that I would run towards my fear, not away from it, and face the truth about myself.

I promised that I would stop taking the Valium and other medications I had been legally prescribed for 30 years and had become addicted to. I would get well in my own head or not at all.

I promised that I would remain connected to my daughter and work patiently and resolutely to a better place, I promised that I would not permit myself to lose her.

I promised myself that i would become a true father, not just biologically but as a responsible steward and caring man.

I promised myself that I would stop hiding from intimacy and would open myself to love, on that mountain I promised myself that I would not die a loveless man in a loveless life.

I promised myself that I would no longer give my money away to people who cared nothing for me, or live in ignorance and fear of it. That I would stop hiding and running from money and learn how to manage it maturely and responsible and no longer shunt it off onto someone else.

I promised myself that I would start my blog and commit myself to writing openly and faithfully, and only what I believed to be honest and true, and to stop writing what other people told me to write or wished me to write.

I promised myself to seek a spiritual life of understanding, reflection and awakening, to be open to change and new ideas. To embrace the hero journey and finish it to the end.

I promised to live a creative life of meaning and fulfillment, to seek encouragement and to encourage others every time I could in every way that I could. I promised to live a life alongside some of the animals of the world, to love them and learn from them.

I promised myself, as Thoreau promised himself, to advance confidently in the direction of my dreams, and endeavor to live the life I imagined, not the life others imagined for me, to love truth more than money.

It was not what I looked at, but what I saw.

Perhaps most importantly of all, I promised myself to be authentic, by which i mean, to be honest and open, to accept the truth about myself, even if it was awful or hard, and to speak honestly from the heart to others. I resolved I would only have friendships that were completely honest, even if it meant I had no friends at all.

I promised to stand in my truth when I wrote, even if it meant I had no readers.

I promised myself to always tell the truth in my writing, even if it was unpleasant for me and others to hear.

I promised myself that I would get hold of a camera and start taking pictures, to capture the images outside of my head that had danced so long and loudly inside of my head.

I understood, even then, that I had much less time ahead of me than behind me, and I pledged that I would never again waste a single day of it. Dreams are the foundation of our future, and I dreamed about a healthier, honest, loving and open life.

I am learning every day what love is. “What does love look like?,” asked Augustine, “it has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and the needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sights and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like.”

Today, looking back on these dreams and promises, I recognize I have work to do and will have work to do for the rest of my life. But so many of these promises have come to pass or have almost come to pass, or have come to pass more often than before.

I have found love, take no medications for my mind, feel little fear in my life, found my daughter again, live with animals, write what I with, and most precious of all, speak and write openly and truthfully about myself, although it frightens and angers many people. My blog has become my voice, my story to the world, just as I hoped and promised.

Hand-in-hand with Maria, I have encouraged many people to be themselves and express themselves and I will continue to do so until the last.

I was 61 years old when I made this Covenant,  and well aware of the pain and blood and sweat of change. But now I know what I want and who I want to be. You can do it anytime.

This journey is long and eternal, and I have no illusions about my promises. No one can keep all of their promises all of the time, I am no saint.

But I am on the path, and I know I will stay there, and I hope I never forget the awful days when I no longer had any promises to keep.