a manifesto for courageous authenticity
Beginning again feels like a visceral “NO FREAKING WAY” in your guts. Until it doesn’t. Until you realize you’ve actually already begun. Until you look back and realize you’re no longer where you were. Beginning again feels like grasping along a dark corridor, tentatively making your way down the staircase, searching with your toes, unsure of where the next step…
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Grief is not something that happens to us, but with us. Because of love. Because we’ve lost something. Because something was taken. Grief is our guide on the journey, not our kidnapper. A partner, not a foe. A companion, not a bully. A teacher, not an abuser. A gift, not a thief. Paradoxically, the deeper the wells of grief are…
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I don’t remember who taught me to play chess. Maybe my dad? I just remember knowing how to play. The game was dormant in me for years, but when my son was in primary school, I taught him to play. He caught on quickly, and I began needing to strategize and actually think through my plays. No, there were no…
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As my faith has grown, changed, expanded, and, I believe, matured, one of the most significant discomforts I’ve experienced has been with language. Do you dare to enter the tangled thought web that is my mind? Come along, brave soul. The word “deconstruction” carries baggage for me. I would never use that word to describe what has happened with my…
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I began journaling in my teens. It was always something we’d been encouraged to do by my mom growing up, but the practice didn’t grow beyond “Dear Diary” into something more substantial until I was nineteen years old. On the doorstep of adulthood, living solo across the ocean, and with my first true heartbreak in the books, I began needing…
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