The kinds of questions around mystery that end up drifting because they're not allowed to land — in this lifetime — without permission.

Just notes on certainty and hearsay, as I thnk aloud about how artificial intelligence shows us more than we wanted to see about what we're full of.

The way I think about things like this — like Hezekiah's story — is like walking around a shed filled with metaphorical mechanisms. But then, my grandfather was a toolmaker.

Not another thing! How on earth can someone be expected to rejoice when they've just heard the flock is even cut off from the fold now?

Sitting in the morning's stillness, wondering if being disarmed and bound could also be an embrace? A reflection on Mark 3, distraction, stillness, and learning to listen.

Air, God — the kinds of things you end up talking about, some of which open you up to more and more questions.

We use words all the time, and sometimes because they just come out. Is that okay for poetry? For prayer? For other people?