I found the book on a quiet afternoon. There was no search. No expectation. Just stillness, and a mind open enough to see. A Feather in Time. That was the title. Light. Barely there. But it stayed with me.
The man who wrote it was named Jake Borchardt. I didn’t know him. Still don’t, not really. But the book made me feel like I had walked beside him. It didn’t try to impress. It didn’t dress anything up. It just moved.
Jake wrote like someone who had lived something. And then offered it back—not wrapped in bows, but in bare hands.
The first few pages didn’t shout. They whispered. About a journey that wasn’t about distance. A trip across the country, and then across an ocean, during a time when the world had shut down. The pandemic had frozen everything. But not Jake.
He moved.
He had no money, no plan, and no certainty. Just a sense that he was supposed to go. He called it walking by faith, not by sight. That phrase stuck. Because there was no map. Just a willingness to follow something unseen.
That’s what A Feather in Time is.
Not a travel story.
A surrender.
A quiet walk into the unknown.
Jake told me later, the book was an offering. A lantern. The kind of thing he wished someone had handed him when he was lost. He’d read The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz and it changed him. Not in a flash. But over time. The way light changes a room if you leave the blinds cracked.
He said the hardest agreement was Don’t Take Things Personally.
I believed him. Because that one is hard for everyone.
We grow up with mirrors. We see ourselves in other people’s silence, their distance, their pain. We think it’s our fault. That we caused it. That we are it.
But Jake learned to step back. To breathe. To let other people carry their own weight.
“I found myself trying to understand what I did,” he said. “But it seldom had to do with me.”
That line held something heavy. A freedom earned the hard way. The kind that comes after years of carrying what was never yours.
He didn’t write this book to teach. Or to fix. He wrote it because he had to. Because there was something in him that needed to be passed on.
Jake talked about Toltec wisdom like it was scaffolding. Something that helped him slow his mind down. The way a fence holds a wild horse just enough to let it rest. I understood that. The people who seem the stillest often carry the most inside.
That’s how the book felt.
Not like a sermon.
Like a feather dropped into stillness.
Not demanding anything.
Just being there.
Each chapter moved slow. But it wasn’t boring. It was deliberate. Like footsteps in fresh snow. Jake didn’t hide the hard parts. The cold nights. The long silences. The empty pockets. He didn’t romanticize anything.
He told the truth.
And the truth didn’t need help.
I didn’t read the book fast. You can’t read something like this fast. You have to sit with it. Let it settle.
Because underneath the simplicity was something else. Something quiet but alive. The kind of truth that sneaks in while you’re trying to look for meaning.
Jake’s story wasn’t about distance. It was about trust. About listening. About choosing to believe that the next step would matter—even when it didn’t make sense.
He left behind what was safe.
He walked toward what was true.
Even when it was lonely.
Even when it was dark.
I saw myself in his pages.
Not in the places.
In the pauses.
The in-between moments when the world goes quiet and you wonder if you’re making a mistake. When everything you thought you needed is gone, and all that’s left is faith.
Not the kind you preach.
The kind you bleed.
I asked Jake if he ever doubted.
He said yes.
But he moved anyway.
That’s what struck me most. Not the travel. Not the story. But the decision to keep going.
Even when it didn’t make sense.
That’s what faith is.
Not certainty.
Movement.
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Jake said, “The more I write, the better I get. And the more I can write.”
I nodded when I read that. Because that’s true of everything worth doing.
Love.
Forgiveness.
Letting go.
You don’t start good. You start honest. And if you keep showing up, something begins to shift.
Jake plans to write more. To share more. He talked about offering tools, medicine, clarity—small things people can hold when the world feels too heavy. And I believe him. Because A Feather in Time was already that.
A guide for the quiet-hearted.
A map for those who move slowly.
A reminder that it’s okay to not have all the answers.
Some books tell stories.
This one offered space.
Not everyone will get it. That’s okay.
It’s not for everyone.
It’s for those standing at the edge of something.
For those who’ve lost more than they can explain, and are trying to figure out what to do next.
It’s for those who move when the world tells them to wait.
For those who believe, somewhere deep down, that the next step matters—even if no one else understands it.
Jake didn’t give us a blueprint.
He gave us a feather.
And said, Here. This helped me once. Maybe it’ll help you too.
That’s enough.
That’s more than enough.
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Inspiration for This Story.
This story was inspired by A Feather in Time by Jake Borchardt—a heartfelt book born from surrender, spiritual awakening, and the raw courage to walk by faith, not by sight. Jake’s journey across the country during the pandemic, guided only by intuition and trust, reminded me that true transformation isn’t loud—it’s slow, uncertain, and deeply personal. His reflections on Toltec wisdom, especially the challenge of not taking things personally, mirrored my own inner work. Jake wrote his story not to teach, but to pass on light. That quiet honesty inspired me to write from the same place—simple, real, and true.
—John Rinaldo
About Borchardt.
Jake Borchardt is a storyteller, spiritual seeker, and the author of A Feather in Time. He writes with quiet conviction, blending lived experience with wisdom drawn from his personal awakening. Jake’s journey took him across the country during the pandemic, with little more than faith, a pen, and a deep desire to grow. Influenced by The Four Agreements and guided by an inner call, Jake shares stories that reflect surrender, healing, and transformation. His writing invites others to slow down, listen inward, and remember what matters. For Jake, storytelling is not just art—it’s medicine, and a path to deeper truth.
Thank you more than words to say John. You've touched into the essence of A Feather in Time, and I am honored to have you spreading the word. Perhaps someone else will choose to red the adventure. With all my Heart. Thank You.
A wonderful read, as always John!