The words we cast to fill the silence left by one we loved never are enough.

When we feel overwhelmed, we gather to find a path, to find new ways forward.

The road not taken is not a fork. That’s too simple a thought, flipping some coin. Either/or. Nope. It’s not this or that. No or yes. It’s nor/ neither and all of the above and more. The road taken goes every way at once. There. There. They. Them. Go. Now. Live.

This litany is intended to be read antiphonally (the congregation, split left and right, reading it to one another). Here I am, my sibling. Here I am. Can you hear me? Here I am. Saying you . . . You. Here. Now. We. We are. Here. Us. Together. Can you. Hear me here? I am calling to you....

There’s no package called hope. Nothing at a shop to look for. Hope won’t store like hay in a barn. It is a last leaf on a branch in deep winter. It is a singular thing, firm when it’s found—a hand reached out. A word to the marrow. Hope is fine-grained, like lavender gone to seed. Gossamer,...

Late in his life, the philosopher Richard Rorty — a well-known atheist — was asked by an interviewer if he could define holy. Perhaps the interlocutor thought the aging and dying Rorty would be stumped by the question or would fall into some traditional language of reverence. But Rorty was not...

The Solstices teach us that darkness comes, that darkness goes. The Solstices teach us that light comes, that light goes. The Solstices teach us, calmly, silently, to be calm, silent. Learning. The Solstices teach us as we circle the sun that everything flies....

I grew up on my family farm in the southern part of Illinois. There was nothing about it that was a golden age. And I’m NOT nostalgic about the good old days. I don’t like carrying water from the well out back. I don’t like going to an outhouse at 4 a.m. in the snow. I don’t like the wasps...