The living Logos invites me –and all of us — into deeper connection with the inner self, with every other sentient being that inhabits our planet, and the Earth itself.

You feel it, don’t you? That tension in your chest, that quiet voice saying, “this isn’t right.” Don’t bury it. That voice is older than any government, older than any flag.

Life distracted from my spiritual journey. It wasn’t until my child came out as transgender that I experientially understood my beliefs don’t define Truth.

We’d sit as quiet as clouds, chattering about this or that or about absolutely nothing at all, while making tinctures from medicinal plants

You’re slowly beginning to realize with utter astonishment tinged with embarrassment that your entire life has been refracted through grace.

I came upon a chasm near a hidden waterfall. The ground was slick with moss and spray. As I attempted to cross, my foot slipped. For a heartbeat, I hovered over a thirty-foot drop into a pit of churning darkness and deep water.

That’s the lesson I’m learning in midlife: not to romanticize nature, but to see it whole, and still choose reverence.

The women in my neighborhood had remedies for everything: tea for heartbreak, a leaf for fever, a whispered prayer for fear. Plants hung on windowsills, candles burned near photographs, and eucalyptus scented the kitchen air.

I noticed a pair of shoes sticking out from behind the bins.