In the return,
in the silence,
a permeable fractal
perceives Source.

Feeling a sense of inner stuck-ness? Here's a simple spiritual practice for deep listening.

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.

A simple, art-based spiritual practice for listening to your inner experience and moving from head knowing to heart knowing.

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.

A 10-ish minute spiritual practice -- bringing curiosity to a quote on complexity by Dr. Neil Theise.

At the sudden realization of my error, my heart sinks; my face burns hot and red.

A tender letter for Christian parents navigating fear, faith, and love when a child comes out as gay. Reflections on presence, moral injury, and flourishing together.

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

You can't see beyond the next step, but you know what it feels like to let go. It’s time to sense into that knowing.

A “dark night of the soul” is a season of spiritual disorientation—when what we once knew feels out of reach. This post offers a gentle map of what it can feel like, a reframe from “why” to “how,” and practical handholds for moving through obscurity.

Here, I know that all will be well. Here, I’m reminded that courage will meet me step by step.

John O’Donohue said good conversations are like “food and drink for the soul.” What does this stir in you?

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.

Finding fluency in my body’s signals doesn’t mean life is easy or that I’m perfect, it means that I am learning. The learning has happened little by little in the tiniest of increments that I’ve savored the heck out of.

John O’Donohue give us words for the obscurity we encounter in our dark nights of the soul. I take comfort in knowing I’m not the only one to encounter this location in my spiritual geography.