July: The Perfect Ashlar and the Man We’re Becoming

 

How the Ashlar Teaches Us to Shape Ourselves

SECTION I — The Sculptor’s Lesson

I once had the opportunity to visit the workshop of a stone sculptor. She had been commissioned to create a monument for a family who wished to honor a loved one’s memory. When I arrived, she stood before a raw block of stone, rough, heavy, and unshaped, the kind of material most people would walk past without a second thought.

She explained that her craft was a subtractive process. “I don’t add anything,” she said. “I remove what doesn’t belong. The form is already inside the stone. My work is simply to reveal it.”

I watched her move between pneumatic tools and simple hand tools, each chosen with intention. The air filled with the rhythm of her labor: the sharp ring of steel on stone, the hiss of compressed air, the soft crumble of dust falling to the floor. Every motion was deliberate. Every strike had purpose.

I asked whether some stones were more difficult than others.

She paused, stepped back from her work, and studied the block with a practiced eye. “Sometimes,” she said, “you have to stop and understand what the problem really is. You get close, look at the grain, see how it wants to break. You can’t force it. You have to learn how to work with it.”

I asked her how long it would take if she used only a hammer and chisel.

She smiled. “About ten thousand blows before you see any real progress.”

Then she said something I have not forgotten:

“Working with stone is like all difficult things in life. It takes strength, patience, and insight to remove the unwanted material. You look for cracks, patterns, weaknesses, and you decide how to work with them. That is how you find the hidden form.”

Her words stayed with me. And in Masonry, the Ashlar stands in that same place. It reminds us that the real work of shaping a life happens one steady, honest stroke at a time.

SECTION II — The Meaning of the Perfect Ashlar 

In Masonry, the Perfect Ashlar is a symbol of the best version of ourselves. It represents the person we are trying to become through steady effort, good habits, and honest reflection.

It does not mean being flawless. It does not mean reaching a point where all the work is done. It simply gives us a picture of the kind of life we want to build.

Just like the sculptor sees the finished form hidden inside the stone, the Perfect Ashlar reminds us that there is a better, truer version of ourselves already inside us. Our job is to slowly remove what does not belong, old habits, rough attitudes, and anything that keeps us from living with integrity.

The Perfect Ashlar is not something we achieve. It is a direction we aim toward.

It helps us measure our progress, stay focused, and remember that every small improvement, every kind word, every disciplined choice, every moment of patience, is one more careful strike of the chisel.

The Perfect Ashlar is simply the life we are trying to shape, one day at a time.

SECTION III — The Rough and Perfect Ashlars Together

Every person begins as a rough stone. None of us start out polished or complete. But each of us carries the potential to become “perfect” in a practical, human sense, not flawless, but better than we were, through steady, persistent self improvement.

This is why the Rough Ashlar and the Perfect Ashlar belong together. One shows us where we begin. The other shows us what we are aiming toward. They remind us that growth is a lifelong process. As we move through different seasons of life, new challenges appear, new flaws come to the surface, and new lessons ask for our attention.

And so the Perfect Ashlar must be understood in the right way:

The Perfect Ashlar is the target, not the goal. It is not something we can ever fully achieve, at least not on this side of life. It is meant to guide us, not to be reached.

The work of shaping ourselves is never finished. We return to it again and again, just as the sculptor returns to her stone, stepping back, looking closely, and deciding how to work with the grain of our own lives.

SECTION IV — No Shortcuts, No Finish Line

The truth is simple. There are no shortcuts to becoming a Perfect Ashlar. Growth does not happen all at once, and it does not happen just because we wish for it. It takes time, patience, and a willingness to keep working even when progress feels slow.

Just like the sculptor who needs ten thousand blows before she sees a change in the stone, we often need many small efforts before we notice a change in ourselves. Most of the work happens quietly, in the everyday choices we make, choosing patience over anger, honesty over convenience, responsibility over excuses.

And sometimes, we abandon the work altogether. Sometimes we forget about our Ashlar for months at a time. And sometimes we see it clearly and still choose to ignore it.

Life gets busy. Old habits return. We get tired, distracted, or discouraged. But the Ashlar does not disappear. It waits for us. It waits for the moment when we are ready to pick up the tools again and take the next small step forward.

Even when we make progress, new challenges appear. Old patterns show up in new ways. Another rough edge comes into view. That does not mean we have failed. It simply means we are still growing.

This is why the Perfect Ashlar can never be a finish line. It is not something we become once and for all. It is a lifelong journey of becoming better, not perfect.

Life is not about reaching perfection. Life is about moving toward it, one thoughtful step at a time.

SECTION V — Returning to the Work

Even when we drift away from the work, we are never too far gone to return. The Ashlar is patient. It does not judge us for stepping away, and it does not punish us for losing focus. It simply waits for the moment when we are ready to begin again.

Every Mason knows what it feels like to set the tools down for a while. Life gets busy. We get overwhelmed. We fall back into old habits. But the important thing is not that we drift. It is that we come back.

And when we do return, we often find that the work has changed. We see things we did not see before. We notice new rough edges, new patterns, new places where growth is needed. This is not a setback. It is a sign that we are paying attention again.

The Ashlar teaches us that improvement is not a straight line. It is a rhythm of effort, rest, reflection, and renewal. What matters is the willingness to pick up the tools once more and take the next honest step.

Every return to the work is a victory. Every renewed effort shapes us a little more. And every moment of clarity brings us closer to the life we are trying to build.

SECTION VI — We Don’t Work Alone

Even though the work of shaping our Ashlar is personal, we are not meant to do it in isolation. Masonry surrounds us with brothers who are walking the same path, carrying the same tools, and facing the same struggles. None of us are perfect, and none of us pretend to be. That honesty is what makes the Craft a place of real support.

Sometimes a brother sees something in us that we have missed. Sometimes he offers a word of encouragement at the exact moment we need it. And sometimes he simply stands beside us, reminding us that the work is worth doing.

And every so often, one of us finds the courage to say something simple and deeply Masonic:

“Brother, I have a rough spot on my Ashlar, and I would like your advice.”

It is not a confession of failure. It is a sign of maturity. It means we are paying attention. It means we are willing to grow. And it means we trust the brother standing in front of us.

We learn from each other’s strengths. We learn from each other’s mistakes. And we learn from the quiet example of those who keep returning to the work, year after year.

A single Mason can shape his Ashlar. But a lodge helps him stay committed to the work.

The Craft does not make the work easier. It makes it possible. It gives us a place to be honest, a place to be challenged, and a place to grow. And in return, we offer the same support to others, helping them shape their own Ashlars with patience and care.

We do not work alone. We never have. And that is one of the greatest strengths of our fraternity.

SECTION VII — The Rough Edges

Every man carries rough edges, impatience, pride, fear, old wounds, old habits. The Ashlar does not hide them. It reveals them. And once revealed, we have a choice: ignore them, or begin the slow work of smoothing them away.

SECTION VIII — The Tools in Our Hands

The tools of Masonry are not relics. They are reminders. The Level, the Plumb, the Square, each one points us back to the man we are trying to become. They guide our steps when life becomes confusing or loud.

SECTION IX — Our Work Shapes the World Around Us

As we shape our own Ashlar, we inevitably shape the world around us. Every choice we make, every habit we build, every rough edge we smooth affects more than just ourselves. It influences our families, our lodge, and everyone who crosses our path.

A well shaped Ashlar does not draw attention to itself. It simply fits where it is needed. It supports the structure. It strengthens the whole.

SECTION X — Gratitude for the Work

When we look back on our efforts, the progress, the setbacks, the moments of clarity, and the long stretches of silence, we begin to see the work differently. We realize that shaping our Ashlar is not just a duty. It is a privilege.

Not everyone gets the chance to grow with intention. Not everyone has a community that encourages effort over perfection. Masonry gives us that gift.

SECTION XI — The Ashlar as a Lifelong Companion

As we move through life, the Ashlar becomes a companion, a quiet reminder of who we are, who we have been, and who we are trying to become. It does not flatter us or soften its edges. It simply waits for us to return.

And when we do, we find that the Ashlar has something new to teach us, not because it has changed, but because we have.

SECTION XII — The Work Never Truly Ends

One of the humbling lessons of the Ashlar is that the work is never finished. Life keeps shaping us, revealing new edges and new places where growth is needed. This is not discouraging. It is an invitation.

As long as we are living, we have the chance to become wiser, steadier, and more compassionate. The tools are still there. The path is still there. The work continues because we continue.

SECTION XIII — A Moment of Clarity

Every so often, we reach a moment when everything becomes clear. The noise settles. The excuses fade. And we see our Ashlar for what it is, not a burden, but an honest reflection of where we stand and where we hope to go.

These moments do not arrive on a schedule. They come in the middle of our ordinary days, when you are shaving, or stopped at a traffic light, or washing dishes, or lying awake at night thinking about the man you are becoming.

Clarity does not do the work for us. But it does show us where to begin.

SECTION XIV — What the Work Gives Back

Over time, the work begins to give something back to us. Not in grand moments or dramatic changes, but in small, steady ways that shape the way we move through the world.

The work gives us a clearer mind. It gives us steadier habits. It gives us a sense of alignment between what we believe and how we live.

These are not rewards we chase. They are the natural return on honest effort. The Ashlar does not just reflect who we are becoming. It helps us become that person.

SECTION XV — The Ashlar Awaits

In the end, the Ashlar is always there. It does not rush us, and it does not judge us. It simply waits, steady, patient, unchanged, until we are ready to take up the tools again.

It stands as a reminder of the man we are, the man we have been, and the man we still hope to become. It asks nothing more than our honest effort. It offers nothing less than the chance to grow.

Every Mason knows this quiet truth. The Ashlar is never finished, and neither are we.

Closing Charge — Pick Up the Tools

Brother, you know the work. You know the man you have been. You know the man you are trying to become.

The Ashlar stands before you, honest, unchanging, patient. It asks for nothing more than your effort, and nothing less than your sincerity. The tools are in your hands. The time is now.

You do not need a perfect plan. You do not need a flawless record. You do not need to wait for the right moment.

You only need the courage to begin again.

Take one small step. Make one honest cut. Shape one corner of your life with intention.

And then another. And then another.

This is the quiet work that builds a man. This is the steady work that strengthens a lodge. This is the lifelong work that gives meaning to our days.

So stand before your Ashlar with humility. Stand before it with gratitude. Stand before it with the quiet confidence of a man who knows he is not finished and is willing to keep going.

Pick up the tools. Make the next stroke. Let the work continue.

This is one of the many ways Freemasonry takes a good man and helps him become better.

If this theme resonates, you may appreciate my earlier meditation on the the Rough Ashlar and the work we can only do for ourselves.

This reflection is part of my twelve-part series Unlocking the Symbols of Freemasonry. You can explore the full journey here.

America 250

 

June: THE ROUGH ASHLAR

 

SECTION I, A Brother and His Rough Ashlar

I was visiting a Lodge on the East Coast when I met a Brother who carried himself with a quiet, thoughtful confidence. We fell into a conversation about introspection, that familiar saying, “Know Thyself,” and he told me he had taken that instruction very seriously. He said he had been working with the Rough Ashlar in a very personal way, using it to confront and correct some of the issues in his life. He spoke about it with a kind of excitement, the way a man speaks when he has finally found a tool that works.

Before we parted that evening, he invited me to his home to see what he meant.

The next day I drove out to his place. It was beautiful, the kind of home that showed he had worked hard and done well for himself. He led me through the house and out into the garage, where a sturdy workbench sat beneath bright lights. On the table were various hand tools, and beside them lay a very rough, jagged piece of stone.

“That,” he said, resting his hand on it, “is how I was feeling inside. Solid, yes. Firm, yes. But rough. Uneven. Full of edges I needed to face.”

As I looked closer, I noticed he had painted small numbers on the lumps and bumps of the stone. Each number represented something he needed to address in his life. He pointed to one that stood for his smoking habit, which he was determined to break. Another marked the grief he still carried from his father’s death. A smaller bump represented loose ends from his divorce, things he needed to resolve so he could move forward.

He told me that he alone was responsible for improving his life, and that real improvement takes time, patience, and honest reflection. Growth, he said, is gradual and lifelong.

Then he picked up a hammer and chisel and smiled. “This,” he said, “is liberating. Mentally, because I am facing my issues. Physically, because I am shaping something real. When the chips fly, I feel like something inside me is breaking loose too.”

I stood there watching him work, and I realized I was witnessing the Rough Ashlar in its purest form. Not as a symbol on a lecture slide, but as a living practice in a Brother’s life.

SECTION II, The Meaning of the Rough Ashlar

In operative masonry, the Rough Ashlar is the stone in its natural state, taken straight from the quarry. It is solid and full of potential, but it is uneven, jagged, and unfit for the builder’s purpose until it has been shaped. The work of smoothing and refining it is slow, deliberate, and guided by skill, patience, and intention.

In speculative Masonry, the Rough Ashlar represents the human condition at the beginning of our journey. Each of us enters the world with strengths and flaws, talents and blind spots, virtues and rough edges. None of us begins as a Perfect Ashlar. We begin as we are, and the Craft asks us to acknowledge that honestly.

The Rough Ashlar teaches several essential truths:

• We are works in progress.

• We carry roughness within us.

• We are responsible for our own refinement.

• Growth requires effort.

• Transformation is gradual.

The Rough Ashlar is not a symbol of shame or inadequacy. It is a symbol of potential. It reminds us that imperfection is not failure, but the starting point of all meaningful work.

SECTION III, The Work of Shaping Ourselves

The Rough Ashlar teaches that every Mason begins with potential, but potential alone is not enough. A stone does not smooth itself. A life does not refine itself. The work of shaping character requires intention, effort, and the willingness to face the parts of ourselves we would rather ignore.

In the Lodge, we speak often about improvement, but the Rough Ashlar reminds us that improvement is not an idea. It is a practice.

Among the Brothers I used to spend time with, we had a running joke. Whenever one of us was wrestling with a habit, or trying to improve a part of our lives, or just having a rough week, someone would lean over and say with a grin, “So how’s your Ashlar coming along.” It always got a laugh, but it also carried a quiet truth. We were reminding each other, gently and without judgment, that every one of us is still being shaped.

The Rough Ashlar teaches us that:

• We must name our rough edges.

• We must face our weaknesses honestly.

• We must be willing to change.

• We must accept that growth is uneven.

• We must return to the work again and again.

The goal is not perfection. The goal is progress.

SECTION III A, The Door We Avoid

Every man carries a place inside himself that he would rather not open. A memory, a habit, a wound, a fear. Something that sits behind a door he keeps closed because he knows what lies behind it will demand courage, honesty, and emotional labor.

It is easy for others to say, “Just handle it,” but the truth is more complicated.

Some issues are not ready to be faced all at once. Some require strength we have not yet built. Some require time, support, or healing before we can even approach the door.

The Rough Ashlar teaches us that growth is gradual. A stone is not shaped in a single blow, and a life is not shaped in a single moment of bravery.

So how do we know when it is time:

• If the issue is harming us or others, it may be time.

• If it keeps returning in different forms, it may be time.

• If we feel a quiet readiness, even mixed with fear, it may be time.

• If we feel overwhelmed or unsafe, it may be wise to wait.

Some stones require gentle sanding. Some require a firm strike. Some require us to step back and return when we are ready.

The important thing is that we do not abandon the work.

A Reflective Pause

Before we move into June’s moment of honest self assessment, it helps to pause and listen to the voice of the Rough Ashlar itself. The part of us that is still becoming, still learning, still being shaped.

Rough Ashlar

by Tom

I stand as stone, unshaped, unsure, With edges cut by time and chance. Yet in my flaws, a promise lives, The will to grow, the choice to advance.

Each careful strike refines the form, Not to erase what once I was, But shape the self I strive to be, A truer stone, by earned design.

SECTION IV, The Mid Year Moment, June and the Rough Ashlar

June sits at the center of the year, a natural pause between what has been and what is still ahead. It is neither the beginning nor the end, but the place where a Mason stops long enough to take an honest look at his progress.

By June, the spark of those New Year’s resolutions has dimmed a bit. The tools we picked up with excitement now show signs of use. Some habits have improved. Others have resisted us. A few rough edges we thought we had smoothed may have reappeared.

This is the moment when the Rough Ashlar speaks most clearly.

It asks us to look inward and ask:

• What parts of myself still need shaping

• What habits have I allowed to return

• What rough edges have I ignored

• What progress have I made

• What work remains for the months ahead

This is not a moment for judgment. It is a moment for honesty.

June invites us to recommit to the work of shaping ourselves. Not because we are flawed, but because we are capable of becoming more.

SECTION V, Returning to the Stone

When I think back to that Brother on the East Coast, standing in his garage with a hammer in his hand and stone chips at his feet, I realize now that he was doing something many of us talk about but few of us practice with such honesty.

He was not just studying the Rough Ashlar. He was living it.

He had taken the symbol off the lecture platform and placed it on his workbench. He had given shape and weight to the parts of himself he wanted to improve. He had named his rough edges, numbered them, and faced them one at a time.

Every Mason has a stone like his, though most of ours are invisible.

Some edges we smooth easily. Others resist us. And some require time, strength, and readiness before we can face them.

But the important thing is that we keep returning to the stone.

As June arrives and the year reaches its midpoint, the Rough Ashlar invites each of us to pause and look inward. Not with judgment, but with honesty. Not with fear, but with hope. Not with the expectation of perfection, but with the quiet determination to keep improving.

The Brother I met that day taught me something I have carried ever since. The stone only changes when we pick up the tools.

And so, each of us must ask, not in jest this time, but with sincerity, How is my Ashlar coming along.

June Companion Checklist, The Rough Ashlar

These are practices I have found helpful in my own journey, small, steady ways to return to the stone with honesty and intention.

1. Name one rough edge you are ready to work on this month.

Choose something small, specific, and honest, one place where a little effort can make a real difference.

2. Identify one door you are not ready to open, and honor that.

Not every issue must be faced today. Respect your own readiness. Wisdom includes pacing.

3. Choose one steady action you can take in June.

A daily habit, a weekly practice, or a single intentional step. Small strikes shape the stone.

4. Reflect on one place where you have already smoothed the stone.

Acknowledge progress. Growth deserves recognition, not just correction.

5. Recommit to one tool you have set aside.

A practice, a discipline, a mindset, something you once used well and can pick up again.

6. Ask yourself with sincerity, How is my Ashlar coming along.

Not as a joke, not as pressure, but as an honest moment of self awareness.

These steps have helped me return to my own stone. Perhaps they will help you return to yours.

For another symbol that shapes our inner work, you might, you may enjoy my reflection on the Compass and Square.

This reflection is part of my twelve-part series Unlocking the Symbols of Freemasonry. You can explore the full journey here.

Red Wing Lodge-Serving the Community One Inning at a Time

On June 24, members of Red Wing Lodge #8 volunteered in support of a local community event by operating the concession stand at the Red Wing Athletic Field during a Red Wing Aces game.

A Red Wing Aces game is more than just baseball...it is a community gathering place. On a summer evening, the open-air ballpark brings together neighbors of all ages: parents, grandparents, and children chasing foul balls, along with young couples enjoying a date night. The game serves as a weekly social event that strengthens the bonds of the community.

There is something timeless about the experience: the fading summer sunlight, the smell of freshly cut grass and popcorn, a warm breeze, the crack of the bat, and a game that unfolds at a pace that allows for meaningful conversations with friends, family, and neighbors.

This ballpark is truly a volunteer-driven community event. The concession stand, ticket sales, scoreboard operation, and game announcing are all handled by volunteers. The fans know the players personally, and the players themselves are not professionals. They are members of the community who play for the love of the game; local business owners, tradespeople, educators, and high school and college athletes.

The Red Wing Aces Amateur Baseball Team competes in the Classic Cannon Valley League of the Minnesota Baseball Association. What we call “Town Ball” has a rich history in Minnesota dating back to 1857. Amateur baseball came to Red Wing in 1870, and as farming communities and small towns developed throughout southern and central Minnesota, residents formed teams to represent their hometowns. Ballparks were built, and baseball became both a source of community pride and a major local sporting event.

This tradition remains as much about community identity and local history as it is about the game itself. Minnesota is often called the “Town Ball Capital of America” because it is home to approximately 275 active teams. While many states have shifted almost entirely toward youth leagues and professional sports, Minnesota continues to preserve this unique community tradition.

Red Wing Lodge #8 was chartered in 1856, and its members have enjoyed Town Ball since its earliest days. Community involvement opportunities such as this offer many rewards for a Masonic lodge. There is no financial cost, which is important at a time when many lodges face increasing expenses related to maintenance, utilities, and taxes.

Volunteering at Town Ball games also helps the lodge become more visible within the community and build relationships with local residents. It provides opportunities to meet potential members and demonstrate the values of service and civic engagement. When people see Red Wing Lodge donating its time and effort to support another community organization, they are more likely to develop a positive impression of Freemasonry and the lodge itself.

Most importantly, the brothers had an opportunity to reconnect with an older rhythm of life: spending a summer evening together, making popcorn, serving hot dogs and beverages, catching up on one another’s lives, strengthening friendships, meeting new people, and seeing old friends...all while cheering on the hometown team.

Through simple acts of service, Red Wing Lodge #8 continues its long tradition of supporting the community it has called home for more than 170 years.

If you enjoyed this article you may wish to see: The Building Protecting Our Treasures. 

The Books in Randy’s Garage

 On Brotherhood, Self‑Help, and Becoming Better

One day I got a call from my buddy Randy asking me to come over and help him move some heavy items in his garage. When I arrived, I was reminded that Randy had one of those oversized garages that seemed capable of holding a lifetime's worth of possessions—and in his case, it practically did.

Randy greeted me with a grin and announced that his wife had finally "authorized" him to create a man cave in the back section of the garage. All we had to do was clear a path through decades of accumulated treasures.

As Randy moved things around, I stood near the workbench and took in my surroundings. Against one wall sat a wood stove.

"Randy, is that the wood stove you bought back in the eighties?" I asked. "The one I helped you move the day you bought it?"

"Yep," he replied. "I just haven't gotten around to installing it yet."

Nearby sat an avocado-green Naugahyde sofa.

"Isn't that your mom's old sofa from high school?"

"Sure is," he said proudly. "Still in great shape. It'll look perfect in my man cave."

As I surveyed the collection of memories and junk, my attention was drawn to a pink laundry basket sitting on the workbench. It was filled with books.

Now, Randy is a voracious reader. He can finish a book in a couple of evenings and takes excellent care of his collection. The books on his shelves inside the house are neatly organized and well maintained. These books, however, seemed strangely out of place.

I glanced at the titles.

I'm OK—You're OK.

Atomic Habits.

The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.

Decluttering for Slobs.

How to Change Your Mind.

Every one of them was a self-help book.

"Randy," I asked, "what are all these books doing out here in the garage?"

He laughed and pointed at the basket.

"Those? My sister keeps giving them to me."

"Amy?" I asked.

"The psychologist?"

We both burst out laughing.

By the end of the afternoon, we had cleared enough space for Randy's man cave and created an impressive pile of items for disposal. As we stood admiring our work, I pointed toward the basket.

"Did you ever read any of those books?"

Randy shook his head.

"Tom, I'm sure they're all about ways to improve your life. I'm always trying to become a better man. Between my faith and Freemasonry, I've already got principles to guide me and brothers to support me. So I never got around to reading them."

I told him I hated seeing books thrown away and knew of a charity shop that would gladly take them.

"Great idea," he said. "Let me put them in your car."

As I drove home with the basket of books in the back seat, I found myself thinking about Randy's comment. He wasn't opposed to self-improvement. In fact, he had spent much of his life working to become a better man. He simply believed he already belonged to an organization that helped him pursue that goal.

That raised an interesting question.

What role does Freemasonry play in a man's journey of self-improvement, and how does it compare with the modern self-help movement?

Walk into any bookstore and you'll find entire sections devoted to personal development. Titles promise greater productivity, stronger relationships, financial success, better habits, and a more meaningful life. Millions of people purchase these books every year because they share a common desire: they want to grow. They want to improve their character, strengthen their discipline, discover lifes purpose, and live more fulfilling lives.

The popularity of self-help literature reveals something important about human nature. Most people recognize that they are unfinished works. They understand there is always room for improvement.

Freemasonry begins with a similar assumption.

For centuries, Freemasonry has encouraged men to examine themselves honestly, identify areas where they can improve, and strive to live according to higher principles. Its purpose has never been to create perfect men. Rather, it seeks to inspire good men to become better.

Many of the themes found in today's bestselling self-help books would be familiar to any thoughtful Mason.

Books such as Atomic Habits emphasize the power of small, consistent actions to shape a person's future. Freemasonry likewise teaches that character is developed gradually through daily effort rather than dramatic transformation.

The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People encourages readers to align their actions with their values. Freemasonry similarly asks its members to reflect upon their conduct and live according to moral principles.

Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning argues that people flourish when they discover purpose beyond themselves. Freemasonry encourages men to consider their duties to God, their families, their communities, and future generations.

Other popular books explore self-discipline, leadership, service, responsibility, and personal accountability, all themes that have long occupied a central place in Masonic teachings.

The similarities are significant. Yet Freemasonry offers something many self-help books cannot.

Community.

A self-help book can provide information. It can inspire reflection. It can offer practical advice. What it cannot provide is fellowship.

Freemasonry surrounds a man with brothers who share similar aspirations. He learns from mentors who have reflected on the same lessons for years. He participates in discussions that challenge his thinking and encourage his growth. Most importantly, he is not pursuing self-improvement alone.

Perhaps one reason men continue to seek out Freemasonry is that they are searching for companions on the journey of self-improvement. Becoming a better man is difficult when attempted alone. It is easier when surrounded by others who share similar values and aspirations. Within a lodge, a man finds brothers who encourage him when he struggles, challenge him when he becomes complacent, and celebrate his successes without jealousy or competition. The attraction of Freemasonry is not that it promises perfection, but that it offers fellowship among men who are sincerely trying to become the best versions of themselves.

This may be one reason Freemasonry has endured for centuries.

The principles themselves are not unique. Wisdom concerning discipline, integrity, purpose, and service can be found in many books. What makes Freemasonry distinctive is the manner in which those lessons are taught and reinforced. Through ritual, symbolism, mentorship, and fellowship, Masonic principles become more than ideas to be admired. They become ideals to be practiced.

At the same time, Freemasonry does not eliminate the value of self-help literature. In fact, the two can complement one another quite effectively.

Freemasonry may help a man identify areas where growth is needed. A self-help book may then provide practical tools for addressing those challenges. If a Mason wishes to improve his leadership skills, communication abilities, habits, or emotional intelligence, there are countless excellent resources available to assist him.

Perhaps the simplest way to describe the relationship is this: Freemasonry points toward the destination, while self-help books may help chart the route.

Both seek improvement. Both encourage reflection. Both challenge individuals to become better versions of themselves.

As I think back to that afternoon in Randy's garage, I still smile at the image of that pink laundry basket filled with self-help books. Randy was not rejecting personal growth. Quite the opposite. He had simply found a path that worked for him.

The books may have found a new home, but the desire they represented remains universal. Whether through books, mentors, faith, life experience, or the teachings of Freemasonry, men continue to pursue the same timeless goal: the lifelong task of becoming better than they were yesterday.

And yes...I did grab a couple of those books.

The Keeper of the Treasure Chest: A Conversation with Julia Wells

 

There is a quiet hum to the Grand Lodge of Iowa Library and Museum. It is the kind of stillness that only exists in places built to hold memory. Shelves of bound periodicals, cabinets of artifacts, and the soft rustle of archival boxes create an atmosphere that feels both scholarly and sacred. At the center of this world is Julia Wells, the Assistant Librarian and Curator, whose work ensures that the history of Iowa Masonry is not only preserved but understood.

Julia’s path to this role began long before she ever stepped into the building. “I have always had an interest in history,” she told me, “and wanted to preserve and teach it to others.” Her background leans more toward museums and archives than traditional library science, but that blend of skills is exactly what a Masonic library requires. She holds a BA in History and an MA in Public History with a focus on Historical Administration, both from the University of North Alabama. Public History includes everything from the National Park Service to museums and archival institutions. She also serves on professional boards, including the Masonic Library and Museum Association and the Iowa Conservation and Preservation Consortium, which connects her work to a broader network of preservation professionals.

Her arrival at the Grand Lodge of Iowa was almost serendipitous. “I heard through the Masonic grapevine that there was a position opening,” she said with a smile. She had already considered working within the Masonic family after graduate school, so when the opportunity appeared, she applied, interviewed, and joined the staff in October of 2022. It was her first real taste of library science, and she took to it immediately.

One of the most striking things about the library is the diversity of people who walk through its doors. “Many of our researchers are members of the Craft,” Julia explained, “but we also have members of the public come in to use various other collections we house in the library stacks.” Some come seeking genealogical threads. Others are scholars tracing the development of fraternal organizations. Still others are new Masons working through the Grand Lodge’s recommended reading list.

Lately, research has centered heavily on the Prince Hall Masonic materials donated by Joseph A. Walkes. This collection has become a significant resource for those studying African American Masonic history. Others dive into the library’s extensive bound periodicals, a treasure trove of Masonic thought stretching back generations.

But preserving these materials is not without its challenges. “The biggest challenge we face currently is fighting against the damage to the piece before it came into our care,” Julia said. Most people do not know best practices for storing documents, books, or textiles, nor should they be expected to. By the time an item reaches the library, it may already have endured decades of poor storage, humidity, or handling. “We are often fighting against time that has already passed,” she said, “to ensure the object is in the safest care possible.”

Digitization is happening, but deliberately. “We are scanning as researchers ask for passages in larger works,” she explained. For now, her focus is on the museum side of the institution, the part of the work where her training is deepest.

When I asked what visitors tend to enjoy most, her answer revealed something important about the dual identity of the library and museum. Freemasons gravitate toward the temporary exhibits on appendant bodies or displays highlighting the fraternity’s contributions to the community. Members of the public are often drawn to the artifacts brought back from Masonic travels, objects that carry the romance of distance and the curiosity of the unfamiliar.

What becomes clear in talking with Julia is that the Library and Museum is far more than a collection of books and artifacts. It is a living institution shaped by the people who care for it. Sitting with Julia felt like meeting the quiet heartbeat behind everything I had just seen. The architecture may impress, but it is people like her who give the Library and Museum its soul. Listening to her talk about the work, the challenges, the small victories, and the care she gives to every fragile page and artifact reminded me that our history survives because someone chooses to love it enough to protect it. Ending this series with her story feels right. It brings the whole journey back to the human level, where Craft has always lived: in the hands of dedicated people who believe our past is worth preserving for those who will come after us.

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"The Building That Protects Our Treasures"

 

Cataract Lodge Supports Literacy Through Bikes for Books

 

Cataract Lodge #2 has proudly supported Bancroft Public School for many years in a variety of ways, including a reading incentive program known as Bikes for Books. This program is designed for fifth-grade students to encourage reading and help them discover the enjoyment and value of books.

The program is effective for several reasons. For young readers, it provides a powerful motivation: by reading more books, they can earn the chance to win a new bicycle. Throughout the year, teachers guide students in selecting books that are appropriate for their age and reading level. Educators have reported increased enthusiasm and motivation for reading, particularly among students who previously showed little interest.

Bikes for Books is a simple idea with lasting impact. It represents a partnership between Cataract Lodge and Bancroft School to encourage literacy, rewards effort, and strengthen community connections, and the power of reading. All through the promise of a bicycle and the transformative power of reading.

This year, the Brothers of Cataract Lodge purchased and assembled 47 bicycles and 25 scooters, which will be presented to the winning students during a fifth-grade assembly.