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Jedidiah Jenkins Books

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“I WAS ASKED recently, “Who is your best friend?” I don’t know. I don’t use language like that anymore. It doesn’t fit. I have friends that hold the keys to different doors of my personality. Some open my heart. Some my laughter. Some my mischief. Some my sin. Some my civic urgency. Some my history. Some my rawest confusion and vulnerability. Some friends, who may not be “the closest” to me, have the most important key for me in a moment of my life. Some, who may be as close as my own skin, may not have what I need today. It’s okay if our spouses or partners don’t have every key. How could they? It isn’t a failure if they don’t open every single door of who you are. The million-room-mansion of identity cannot overlap perfectly with anyone. But I will say, my closest friends have a key ring on their hip with lots of keys, jingling.”

FriendshipPersonalityFriends
Book:Like Streams to the Ocean: Notes on Ego, Love, and the Things That Make Us Who We Are
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“I quit calling [writing] a 'passion.' That word is so aggressive. It implies that if you aren't burning for what you do, then you aren't living right. I don't want to burn -- at least not all the time. I want to lean into the steady goodness of making good things. I like calling writing my 'interest' or 'the channel through which I sense myself and serve others.”

InspirationalPassion
Book:Like Streams to the Ocean: Notes on Ego, Love, and the Things That Make Us Who We Are
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“As I get older and listen to my life, the truest things seem to live in paradoxical tension. Hope holding hands with understanding. Expectation dancing with the hard lessons of humility. The human heart piloting the mystery of the human heart.”

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Book:Like Streams to the Ocean: Notes on Ego, Love, and the Things That Make Us Who We Are
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“I was in the zone, each day biking farther than the last, and becoming ever more accustomed to my solitude. An entire day passed without me speaking to a single human. I did speak though, just to the world. I love talking to the road and to trees and birds. My voice keeps me company.”

NatureSolitudeTravel
Book:To Shake the Sleeping Self: A Journey from Oregon to Patagonia, and a Quest for a Life with No Regret
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“I wondered about my friendship with my mom. Is it friendship? How can it be? Friendship is chosen. Friendship is discovered. But a mother and a son have a bond that is necessary. If the son exists, the mother exists. She may have abandoned him, she may have abused him, she may have loved him and laughed with him. But no matter what, there is a relation that must be accounted for. So how could it be friendship? What does friendship with a parent mean?”

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Book:Mother, Nature: A 5,000-Mile Journey to Discover if a Mother and Son Can Survive Their Differences
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