Out of Sight, Out of Mind
This spark surfaced while I was serving as lector during worship, reading 1 Samuel 16:1–13 aloud.
Wisdom is how you live.
This spark surfaced while I was serving as lector during worship, reading 1 Samuel 16:1–13 aloud.
Sometimes the songs we sing badly stay with us the longest. “Have Thine Own Way, Lord” was one of those for me—a melody I once mumbled through, now a prayer that shapes the way I live. What I missed in tune, I’ve learned in time: that grace doesn’t need perfection to be heard. It only asks that we stay soft enough to be shaped.
The Trinity is not only Father, Son, and Spirit—it is also written in us as love, forgiveness, and kindness. One eternal, one fragile; one source, one echo. Together they form the shape of infinity, with Christ at the crossing where heaven and humanity meet.
This past year has been one of letting go, following sparks, facing fear, and listening for whispers. Along the way I’ve remembered faith as my compass — Grace, Presence, and Spark — and begun to see life not as poles in opposition, but as the thread in between that makes us whole. Mid-life, I’ve found, is not a crisis but a crossing.
Time is not abundant — it is fragile, fleeting, and holy. This reflection explores what it means to serve not out of convenience but out of urgency, recognizing that life itself is the gift and how we spend it is the offering back.
We often talk about following Jesus—but what if he was never just a teacher, but a mirror? This piece explores how Christ’s life invites us to love the unloved self, forgive what we carry, and practice kindness not as performance, but as presence. Not religious. Not dogmatic. Just real.
The Stoics taught us how to endure. But what if they didn’t go far enough? This reflection explores the missing step between philosophy and spirituality in the Western tradition—and why that still matters today.
What if purpose isn’t about power — but presence?
This reflection travels from Loki’s final act to ancient myths and a mischievous Indian poet, exploring how sacred disruption, steady care, and quiet conviction can shape the soul of a lifetime.
I didn’t set out to become more empathetic—I just couldn’t live detached anymore. What once protected me became the path back to presence. This reflection traces how emotional numbness, inherited as survival, eventually gave rise to deep recognition, connection, and healing.
They were raised on performance, productivity, and polish.
Now they’re waking up.
Not to rebel—but to remember what it means to be human.
This is the story of the 19%, their legacy, and the quiet migration of meaning.