The Art of Deep Creation

Learning to Crave What Expands You

---

The Mirage of Light

There is a deception embedded in light itself.

When we look at the stars, we are often seeing ghosts. Some of the light reaching our eyes tonight left its source millions of years ago. The star itself may already be dead, collapsed into darkness, but the light remains—traveling across the void, still shimmering, still visible, still appearing to exist.

This is how false wonder works.

It is not a present reality, but a lingering afterglow of something already collapsed. It reaches us long after its source is gone, and we mistake its presence for permanence.

The false wonders of this world operate in the same way—enticing us with echoes rather than substance. They shimmer with borrowed light, promising depth, promising expansion, promising life. But they are already dead.

The Physics of False Wonder: Why It Expends Us Rather Than Expanding Us

Light is more than brightness—it is energy. It has force, movement, structure. It bends space. It shapes perception. It carries weight.

And yet, not all light nourishes.

Some light burns without warmth. Some light shines without mass. Some light, like the false stars in our sky, is only the memory of something real, disconnected from the source that gave it fire.

This is the difference between true wonder and false wonder:

• True wonder expands us—it deepens the interior world, feeding the soul, enlarging our capacity to receive and perceive.

• False wonder expends us—it demands our attention, siphons our energy, and leaves us emptier than before.

False wonder is not neutral. It is an act of extraction.

It does not create awe. It manipulates attention.

It does not nourish the soul. It harvests the soul.

This is why our age is not merely distracted—it is depleted. We are not just looking at the wrong things; we are being systematically hollowed by them. This is the “the great voiding of humanity” I’ve discussed here before.

The Hollowing Effect: How False Wonder Mimics the Structure of Light but Not Its Substance

The kingdom of shadows does not drag us into darkness. It seduces us with a counterfeit radiance.

• It gives us the sensation of light without its fire.

• It dazzles but does not warm.

• It illuminates but does not reveal.

And so we spend our days absorbing light that does not feed us.

We scroll, we crave, we chase after shimmer, always feeling we are on the verge of seeing, of arriving, of being filled—but always ending up emptier than before.

False wonder promises expansion but delivers depletion. It does not give—it extracts.

It is a system of consumption, not creation. A simulation of light, not illumination itself.

The True Light: Why Real Wonder Feeds Rather Than Depletes

If false wonder burns without heat, then what is true wonder?

John gives us the answer:

"The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world." (John 1:9)

The true light gives.

This is the wonder of the Incarnation and self-giving nature of true beauty. In the giving we find our density as humans.

True wonder is not a fleeting glow—it is a structure of presence. It does not hollow the soul—it densifies it. It is not a system of extraction—it is an act of divine self-giving.

• False wonder demands that we orbit it.

• True wonder draws us into a greater gravity.

False wonder is a flickering afterglow. True wonder is a furnace of weight and warmth.

False wonder leaves us weightless, scattered, dissipated.

True wonder binds us together, anchoring us to what is real.

This is why Augustine wrote:

“My love is my weight.”

To love false wonder is to become weightless.

To love true light is to become dense with meaning.

My Writing Process: Resisting the Hollowing with Deep Study

Recently, I shared a post about my deep study process. (Read it here👇)

---

---

Deep study is an intentional affront to the light that extracts.

I am purposefully seeking resources and processes that expand rather than expend me.

This means:

• I seek out writing that draws me deeper into contemplation, rather than scattering my thoughts.

• I read slowly, returning to weighty ideas rather than skimming for quick takeaways. (Think: the incessant consumption of Stoic “self-help” articles and books.)

• I train my attention, resisting the pull toward what is merely urgent in favor of what is truly luminous. (Easier said than done, I know. But a worthy pursuit!)

To study deeply is an act of resistance. It is a refusal to be hollowed.

And I believe this is a habit we must all cultivate—not just writers, but anyone longing to live with presence, with gravity, with weight.

How to Resist the Hollowing & Live in True Wonder

So, how do we live in the light that nourishes rather than depletes? I’m going to get curricular on you now, sorry. I prefer paragraphs and prose over lists and bullets, but sometimes—well, you get it. 🤓

1. Recognize the Difference Between Light That Expands & Light That Extracts.

   • Does this deepen me or empty me?

   • Does this expand my ability to see or narrow it?

   • Does this lead me to contemplation or consumption?

2. Stop Feeding on the Afterglow.

   • Not all light gives life. Be wary of the shimmer, the spectacle, the promises of endless gratification. {This is so huge! ✨}

   • Learn to discern what is still burning and what is only the echo of something already collapsed. Be “alive while burning.”

3. Crave Presence, Not Stimulation.

   • True wonder is not about more. It is about fullness.

   • Read what densifies your inner life.

   • Dwell in places of gravity—the quiet, the slow, the real. {For more on the density and thickness of the truly real, see The Great Divorce and Augustine. 🤙}

   • Resist the pull toward the periphery and move toward the center of weight. {Gravitational time dilation, y’all! 🪐}

These are not just ideas; they are the structural forces of deep creation. I know, I know—I’ve written before that only God creates, and we are stewards. I stand by that. But you get my drift. We’re riding the same wave. 🌊

To create, to work, to live—these are not optional embellishments to human existence. They are the deep grammar of being itself. But how we engage with them determines whether we are merely producing or truly making. Whether we are chasing the shimmer of inspiration or stepping into the gravitational field of real presence.

Deep creation does not happen at the periphery. It happens where light bends, where gravity pulls, where weight is undeniable. If we are to make something that lasts, something that nourishes rather than extracts, then we must become people of presence, depth, and density.

This is the art of deep creation. It is not about chasing more. It is about becoming full.

Not about quick inspiration, but about a luminous rootedness. To create in the weight of true light is to stand where eternity presses into time, where the echoes fade and only what burns remains.

So, here’s the real question: What are you building? And is it light enough to dazzle but heavy enough to hold?

The Final Question: What Light Are You Following?

Leviathan’s world is not an empire of darkness. It is an empire of false light.

It does not drag us into despair. It seduces us into depletion. Remember ole Uncle Screwtape! He’s not dragging folks into hell kicking and screaming. He’s whispering to them, leading them down the gentle slope.

And so the question is not Will I crave?—because craving is human. The question is:

What light am I moving toward?

• A light that expands or expends?

• A light that fills or extracts?

• A light that binds me to the real or one that leaves me chasing after ghosts?

"The world is fading away, along with everything people crave. But anyone who does what pleases God will live forever." (1 John 2:17)

The light of heaven does not flicker.

The light of heaven does not burn out.

The light of heaven does not deceive.

And if we are to resist the hollowing—the great voiding!—if we are to live in the gravity of love rather than the drift of craving, then we must learn to tell the difference.