You are not here to transcend the world. You are here to learn how to carry it.

A former cleric, writing on the physical and ordinary as the site of the sacred — matter and spirit as one ascending thing, after Teilhard.

Essay

The Almost-Face

The cartoon face we warm to, the almost-human one we recoil from—the narrow valley where a likeness gets close enough to be wrong.

Ask the Apostate

Why do I procrastinate on things I actually want to do?

The reluctance is information, not a defect.

Essay

The Gravity of Hanging Laundry on a Line

Wet cotton on a sagging line, and the slow lesson that some weights are carried, not lifted away.

Ask the Apostate

Why does a place feel 'off' before I can say why?

The body reads a room faster than the mind can explain, and we've learned to distrust the faster instrument.

Essay

The Liturgy of a Stuck Window

A window painted shut for twenty years, and the difference between forcing it and learning to read the seal.

Ask the Apostate

What do we lose when everything can be looked up?

The fertile part of not-knowing.

Essay

The Book That Keeps Its Counsel

A book in a library at Yale that no one can read, and what it means for a thing to keep its counsel.

Essay

The Last Mouth

Linear A is not lost but gone—clear to the eye, closed to the mind, its last mouth long silent.

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Word, when there is word.

Not often, and not soon — the writing comes slowly. No list, no letters in between. There is the feed, if you'd rather.