When obscurity rises, and
you cannot see where to step next,
your gaze turns ever-so-slightly outward.
Oh, how humbling it is to be human!

If you are in the thick of obscurity, holding inner tensions that cannot be resolved, or feeling disconnected from your deepest knowing. If you are disoriented as the sands of time flow through the hourglass at a dizzying pace and there is no rest in sight, please open to this possibility with me: a taste of something else may also be very nearby.

Water meant to flow into the hose is dripping from the spigot, seeping into the ground underneath it. This well-irrigated little patch of Earth is incredibly fertile, but has not been cultivated with intention.

Let us prepare for the unthinkable, speak of the unmentionable...

We feel the pain no words can touch, co-present with gold. Instead of writing it off as “all good,” we breathe with it.

Snapshots of granular moments of becoming as I work toward an aim to develop finer discrimination and attention.

As we slow down to explore subtle inner experiences weaving through daily-ness, fleeting felt senses of a different quality shimmer.

I’ve been carrying an evocative question as I continue this work of “becoming.”

We have talked at length about what’s been shifting in our sense of the world and our inklings about why we are here. In this offering, there’s a deepening.

We are alive, friends. It’s painful and exquisite. There is so much darkness. It’s real. Death is all around us. Unaddressed pain has mixed with power and fragmented us, but we are encircled by a Love that is permeating the darkness in the most creative ways. 

There’s a communal nature to wisdom. Our journeys overlap — sometimes in physical life, and sometimes outside of it — words and presence across time and space.

Like Amanda and Graham, I’m meeting this next moment with a heart as open as I can muster, taking a step into the unfamiliar.

For much of my life, I sought answers before I began walking. I'm finding practices that support me in living into the questions.

I’m holding space for our tender hearts, heavy with tensions and contradictions, the places we feel unseen and in between.

A “dark night of the soul” is a season of obscurity in the spiritual landscape – spiritual disorientation – when we can’t seem to access what we once knew.

The teachers who have shaped me invited me — whether explicitly or in the way they uniquely inhabited their life and calling — to engage with my soul.

I awoke from a dream two years ago with a playful image, a new way of orienting to my faith: Magic Eye Art.

Here's a poem I wrote from a grounded place -- wisdom from myself to myself. I'll keep these words as an anchor to guide my home.