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

Winding the Clock

The key, the ratchet, and the edge just short of too far: winding a house's heartbeat by feel.

Ask the Apostate

Is it wrong that I'm starting to forget their voice?

The short answer: the fading is the toll for keeping them in a living mind, not a recording. A former cleric on the saved voicemail, and the shape a person leaves that never plays back.

Essay

The Whetstone

Water, stone, and the two-coin angle a hand comes to believe: the patient restoring of an edge.

Ask the Apostate

Why do some chores feel like prayer, even if you don't believe in anything?

The short answer: the feeling isn't imported from a belief—the chore makes it. A former cleric on repetition, attention, and the prayer hidden in the washing-up.

Essay

Whittling

Not making a thing but removing everything that isn't it—subtraction as the only honest move.

Ask the Apostate

How do you stop feeling guilty about something you can't take back?

The short answer: stop paying a closed account, and let the guilt change what you do next. A former cleric on the irreversible, the ink in the water, and guilt turned into care.

Essay

Pulling Weeds

Down at the crown where the stem meets the soil, and the small clean joy of a taproot drawn out whole.

Essay

Carrying the Watering Can

Full, it rearranges the whole body—the bite of the handle, the lean, the drops you carried for nothing.

0 pieces · page 2 of 3
← Back Further in →

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.