Gimme shelter, sang the Rolling Stones. Give everyone headphones and a study booth, might be the 2027 remix.

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

The unfolding of Chapter Seventeen's architecture and approach feels compelling. I’m thinking aloud here about potential areas of research.

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.

Am I alone in finding everything I encounter brings up a thousand other things? Now apply that to reading the Bible. I know.

Just an average writing day, but genuinely finding my private thinking interrupted by questions about how that might seem if said aloud.

There's a gap here, but it's not nothing. It's between the actor and the audience, the words and the meaning, and between artificial intelligence and — Spirit and Truth, perhaps?