Something Rather Than Nothing

What it Might Mean to Follow God

Every so often, my son and I spontaneously have a long and interesting conversation that spans physics, philosophy, psychology, religion, music, technology, culture, and more. We both love it when that happens, and it just so happens that last night was one of those nights.

My son is a very logical person, and hasn't had the kind of experiences that make God feel real to him. He has consumed a plethora of content, arguments for and against, and given the lack of direct experience, tends to land on the side of the skeptic. Yet, he admits that, at a minimum, agnosticism makes sense. There is really no way to know for sure, so how could one truly land in a position of atheism.

I said, "well, as a logician…" he chuckled, "what about the argument that if there is no God and you spend your life believing, what is the harm, but if there is a God,"

"You are not seriously going to try to throw Pascal's wager at me are you?" he said.

He went on about how history has so many gods and if you are going to believe in a god then the chances of picking the right one are so slim, and if God was all powerful anyway or all knowing anyway then, yada yada yada.

We then got into God creating man in his own image, but really it was man interpreting God in man's image, and how limiting that must be.

So, then he asked me.

So what then dad?
What is the point?
What does it mean to follow God?
Wouldn't it just be to do what you want and live a life that makes you happy?

Obviously, I don't know. I don't know God any better than the next person. Either we are all connected to God or we are not. But if I were to offer my best guess based on all I have read, studied, and experienced, I would say the following.

No, it's not just about doing what you want to live a life that makes you happy. Lots of people do exactly that and look at the result.

When people are allowed to act purely in their own self interest, and have the means to do so, other people are often radically hurt, the planet gets decimated. The sick get sicker, the poor get poorer, the hungry starve.

Why?

Not because we don't know how to solve these problems.

Because we have not earnestly and collectively prioritized solving these problems.

I go back to the baseline. Creation. Not whether it was evolution vs divine, but the simple fact that there is something rather than nothing.

Here we are.

Alive and not not.

Being and not not.

Something, rather than nothing.

As that something, I personally feel a responsibility of stewardship of that something.

There is a trajectory to being alive. You grow, you nurture, you get sick and heal. You try to organize and do better.

I suppose it's all where the rubber meets the road where people then diverge on this.

Some think pruning off that which does not serve is the way, others think optimizing what is working best is the way, some work to raise ceilings, others raise floors.

For me, I think the first move has to be to acknowledge that there is something at all.

We are all that something.

We are all inextricably connected.

When we make choices about the best way to move forward, we need to do so with that whole in mind.

If there is a God, that, to me, is what is in God's mind.

---

If this reflection has been of value, you’re welcome to support the time and care that go into this work.

→ Contribute

Substack

While most of my writing lives on this website, I do share occasional writing on Substack for those who prefer to receive it there. You can find me on Substack here.

Praying and Acting in Liminal Space

Following Session 6: Praying and Acting in Liminal Space

March 10, 2026 — April 14, 2026

Synthesis Statement

While Witnessing and Grieving felt like foundational work, the quiet, behind the scenes efforts that make change possible, Praying and Acting feel a bit more engaged. But they are not really. To actively Witness, and to actively Grieve are critical, and it takes conscious effort. I want to be clear about that. Yet, somehow, Prayer feels more outward facing, as does Acting. This session, we dove into those. 

We open with an acknowledgment that there is something greater than ourselves. Something that connects us in witnessing, that opens our hearts in grief. That something, that invisible means of support, is always there, waiting for us, ready to shine forth. 

Prayer is one way we access that something. And we discover four types of, or approaches to, prayer: 

• Prayer as a Primal and Primitive Cry for Help. This is when we experience something and somewhat involuntarily cry out, ‘Oh My God’. 

• Prayer as Supplication - often a prayer for others in profound need. Can be for people, planet, species. 

• Prayer as Praise and Thanksgiving - expressing gratitude or recognition for something beautiful, no matter how simple or astonishing. 

• Prayer as Giving to Spirit - Perhaps the most paradoxical of the four. What can we give to Spirit? Only that which Spirit does not have on its own. Our Need. Our Fears. Our Worry. Our Doubt. 

We then discussed acting in the world and how hate cannot fix hate; violence cannot fix violence. Only kindness and love can fix what is broken. Thus, we should practice acts of kindness and love, for one another, and for the planet at large. Further, we must recognize that some acts will be challenging. Standing in the face of insult and injury, standing in the face of humility. These all may occur. And the oppressor, the agitator, the offender may not be learning a lesson at that moment, but we pray now and always that our act of nonviolence, of passive resistance, of loving kindness, of compassion serves to help others see light, love, and a (even if only a small) glimpse of a better future, of a New Story. 

Report on Practice

As I reflect on the different types of prayer, Cry for help, supplication, gratitude, giving to spirit, I see that they are at once inclusive of both witnessing and grieving as well as praying and acting. Prayer itself is an act, and the contents of that prayer are to acknowledge what you are or have witnessed, and to share in the grief. 

When the prayer is a cry for help or supplication, we are facing a challenge or a need directly. That is witnessing. 

The fact that we can feel the inherent pain, that is grieving. 

We are, at that moment praying, which is an act. We are giving ourselves in that moment to the space to shift who we are in the world related to that event about which we are praying. 

This is no less true when we offer prayer as praise and thanksgiving. For when we find beauty, when we rejoice in the wonders of nature, of humanity, of the simple or the incredible, we are then too, witnessing. 

Our hearts are opening, as they do in grief. We may or may not be grieving per se. We may be ‘sad’ for others who do not have the opportunity to experience this same joy, this same gratitude for this moment as we are right now, so the grief may not be explicit, but our hearts are still opening, widening, and becoming more welcoming. 

And here too, we are in a moment of prayer, we are acting, standing in this moment, allowing the light of Spirit, of the Something that is bigger than ourselves, of the something that is here rather than nothing, to shine forth. 

And here again, that act allows light in at that moment and also allows us to become just a bit better attuned to allowing that light in at any given time. 

With Prayer as ‘Giving to Spirit’, this is another approach to emptying ourselves, to making ourselves fully open and available as a channel of light. When our fears, worries, and doubts get in our way, distract us, we cut ourselves off from experiencing a direct connection. We cut ourselves off from the gratitude we can feel when we are offering a prayer of praise, or experiencing a connection of beauty. And so, this last prayer, of giving to Spirit, is a vehicle to help us return to that direct connection. 

They all are, just from different places. All roads lead to Spirit. They start at different places. They start from different areas of the human experience, and then take us back to where we need to go. Different kinds of prayer for different starting points. 

A Reflection on Passover and Easter

As I reflect on Passover and Easter, I cannot help but find my own story in them. Yes, I am egopomorphizing, but that’s what we do, right? This is not a theological reading, but a personal reflection on what these stories stir in me.

Passover reflects upon the arduous journey of a people who have suffered: enslavement, wandering, hunger, tragedy, and loss. And for some, the loss of their firstborn child. All of this as a kind of death of the old, a letting go of what had held them in bondage. Not until they were able to free themselves from this could they move toward the promised land. This is not to say they had to forget the old. Jews still today remember this story as part of the Passover tradition. Not to erase what came before, but to carry it forward in a new way.

Similarly, Jesus lived a life where his way of seeing the world was more embracing than that of his peers, and for that, he was persecuted, executed. But in that death, something of the old, sin, separation, the weight of the past, was carried through and released. And what was able to be born was something fresh, pure, and new. A new story, a new way of being, a more direct connection to God.

On Passover and Easter, we can, if we so choose, celebrate that when we let go of the past, accept the present, and stand in love with our brother, sister, and neighbor, “thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” It is here for us, always and already. It is up to us, all of us, to open our hearts together and embrace honesty, truth, love, healing, and one another, now, in this moment, always.

Hard. And remember to embrace that, says Pema. 

This period has been hard. I got excited about an opportunity/engagement that would have moved me closer to environmental stewardship with a good portion of my time. I was really excited about that. I find in myself both a primal connection to the earth and an intellectual desire to act in alignment with that. I don’t doubt that we all have it, but it seems to move me more than I see it moving others. In my excitement, I had numerous conversations (in my head) about this opportunity. I was thinking about it out loud, on paper, and in my mind, in all different ways. I was giving it many hours a week. Some of this was preparation. And some of it was perhaps my not being present. It’s hard to tell the difference. 

Well, the opportunity came and went, and did not, ultimately, include me. This was hard for me for a number of reasons. In part, I was let down. I had been, as I may have mentioned before, excited. I was envisioning a new story for myself. I could see how this involvement would bring new sources of inspiration, engagement, contribution, and revenue. All of that was positive. On the other hand, I was nervous. I have been managing some vestibular symptoms that limit my engagement. My ability to control my schedule has proven highly valuable, and any new engagement opens the door to more controlled chaos, more time for others, etc. So, I was worried about how to balance that in. 

Financially, the last two months have been a crunch for me as well. My consulting practice works well for me, generally speaking. However, one of my clients recently required a significant increase in support, though we have a set monthly fee structure. Normally, we just amortize the costs over the year. They have some busier periods and some lighter periods, and we have been working together long enough that we have it pretty well calibrated. However, they have had some significant changes recently. They acquired another company overseas, which is leading to all sorts of operational, structural, and messaging changes. So, I have been working from high-level strategy to tactical level execution across marketing and operational needs on multiple continents. That meant working with much more of the team within a much more condensed period of time than typical. Over the course of the year, it's fine. But over the last two months, my expenses have exceeded my income, which is stressful. I know many people live paycheck to paycheck, and often at a deficit. I have lived that way on and off throughout my life. For years, as I started businesses, I ran on debt to get up and running. Fortunately, now I am overall cash positive and have enough savings that these two months are not going to destroy me, but still, having to ‘rob Peter to pay Paul’ is really stressful. 

I once had a tarot reading where we were walking through my life’s journey. I was at the end of high school or possibly early college at the time. The reader turned over the second-to-last card, which showed a man pierced through with swords. He said, ‘...and your journey will be painful.’ The next card suggested I would make it through. I remember how stark that sequence felt. Pain, then continuation. It’s a pattern that shows up again and again, certainly in my life anyway. People who don’t make good on promises, people who steal from you, my wife’s rather serious health issues, my own health issues, my daughter’s death. I keep thinking this is hopefully the last round of pain, and then I finally get to live the good part, but man, I just don’t quite get there.

I saw a video with a Buddhist Nun, Pema Chödrön. She said when we truly let go, we are always falling. There is no ground. But it is our growing comfort with that ungroundedness that we truly seek. Our great opportunity is to recognize that when we feel that discomfort, that contraction, that queasiness, it is an opportunity to practice once more becoming comfortable with that which is uncomfortable. We should keep finding that edge and practicing. I’ll be honest, between my vestibular symptoms, my financial concerns, my wife’s health, my daughter’s passing, etc., the last few years of my life have been full of uneasiness. Lots of opportunities to practice. I found in that stewardship opportunity a possible new story, and I got excited because I saw that maybe I was going to walk through a door that would change everything. But in retrospect, I realize that was unrealistic.

Standing as Space

Finally, this period we were to write about what it means to us to stand as space. For me, when I think of this, my inclination is to envision a clearing, an open channel. We are an entry point into the world for divinity, for Spirit to come through and help deliver what is needed here, now, in this place, in this time. We have to be careful though. The more we think this is us, the more we get in the way of that energy coming through. The more formless, the more emptiness, the more true. 

This does not mean say nothing, do nothing. No, we will still be out and about. We will still encounter. And we will still be moved to speak, to take action. In some cases that action will be a powerful move, a powerful voice, and in others, it will be to stand quietly, and powerfully still. An article I wrote this month, My Heart Doesn’t Fit in a Box, feels a little like that. It was an output that came as a result of the movements from liminal space, witnessing > grieving > praying > acting. And as I wrote it, I was trying to remain as open as I could to allow the right words, the right points to come. And it was an offering to the world, to those who needed to find that piece. 

But I want to be careful here, and this is territory that I think can easily be muddled and confused. Many wars are started in the name of the divine or out of a sense of righteousness. So, it is easy to elevate your sense of self and believe what you are doing is holy, morally superior, etc. So, I don’t want to claim that. 

I started training in energy medicine in the late 90’s and have learned a handful of techniques since then. I am not a heavy practitioner, yet I do feel the movement of energy and occasionally I’ll work on myself or someone else. What I know from this practice is that while I can certainly sense the energy moving through me, and I can feel where it might be flowing or somewhat blocked on someone else, and while I have some techniques to help release/rebalance, and restore a more natural flow, those are just techniques. The energy is not mine, it is that of the universe. It is not my will that decides if it is going to work or not. It may or may not be up to the other person how much they are willing to accept that energy/spirit/prana/flow/divinity to work within them. But the source of that energy is more primal, more fundamental than all of us. It ties us all together, connects all people, plants, animals, the earth as a whole. 

For me, standing as space is offering a moment, however small, for the world to heal. But it’s a big world and needs a lot of healing, so it’s way more than any one person is going to be able to do. All we can do is our part. 

With love, 

Adam

---

If this reflection has been of value, you’re welcome to support the time and care that go into this work.

→ Contribute

Substack

While most of my writing lives on this website, I do share occasional writing on Substack for those who prefer to receive it there. You can find me on Substack here.

My Heart Doesn’t Fit in a Box

A reflection on trans lives, human complexity, and the limits of our labels

It’s not uncommon these days that I involuntarily offer primitive prayers, crying out Oh My God. I am deeply saddened, and have been for years, but increasingly so, for the ongoing progress in the assault on the trans community. From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry. I am sorry you are living in a time when so many people are either afraid, ignorant, or have ulterior motives and using you as a scapegoat.

But let me step back for a moment.

At the highest level, we are all people. We all have hopes, fears, and lives shaped by both biology and experience. Human variation is real and worth appreciating. The problem is not that this variation exists. The problem is what we do in response to it.

But this is not abstract. Right now, a specific group of people is being targeted through policy and public discourse in ways that have real, immediate consequences for their safety and dignity.

However, out of fear, out of ignorance, out of a desire to hold certain things fixed, out of distraction, many have chosen to scapegoat this community, who, through no fault of their own, do not fit within what some have decided are our social “norms”, and now are a source of significant problem in our society. Though this community makes up (estimates vary but let’s say) <1-5% of the population, many legislative bodies are spending a disproportionate amount of time actively making the lives of these individuals significantly harder. As I recall, the role of government, at least in the US, is of the people, by people, and FOR the people, and in order to form a more perfect union. Union as in coming together, not as in eradicating diversity. Yet, in the last month or so I have seen:

Kansas retroactively canceling driver’s licenses if they did not match one’s designated gender at birth. So, if someone had a then canceled license, they would be driving illegally if they were driving to get the ‘legal’ license. Moreover, the Kansas law also established what amounted to a bounty – a private right of action allowing anyone who suspects someone is transgender to sue them for $1,000 in damages for using the "wrong" restroom in government buildings.

Ohio lawmakers passed a bill in the House (not a law yet at the time of writing this article) that wearing makeup while performing that is inconsistent with your designated gender at birth is a crime. That seems highly discretionary and problematic in terms of enforcement. Many men wear makeup, particularly on camera. Some just anyway. Many women don’t. Maybe ‘Big Makeup’ will step in and fight this one. Further, who’s to say what performing means. If a woman who presents more masculine is playing guitar in the park, is she breaking the law? This is a pretty open door to the erosion of civil liberties, but that is a bigger picture and I don’t want to take away from the clear and present assault on trans people here and now. 

Idaho passed a law that one must use the bathroom associated with the gender that was designated at birth. So, now someone in Idaho, designated at birth to be female, but presenting with broad shoulders, large biceps, and a full beard, must use the women's bathroom. That makes everyone uncomfortable. It may cause a fight. It may cause a call to the police resulting in wasted time for law enforcement since that person should be using the women’s room by law. Alternatively, if the person uses the men’s room, they are now breaking the law and could end up in jail. Nikson Mathews, a trans man with a beard and chair of the Idaho Democratic Queer Caucus, recently testified: "Every single day when I'm out in public, I have to decide: Do I feel like going to jail today, or do I feel like being attacked."

Again, the operative concept here is ‘designated gender at birth’, and that is inherently problematic. Regardless of how we explain any of this, no one should have to justify their existence in order to be treated with dignity and basic rights. It’s also worth acknowledging something we often oversimplify when we talk about sex and gender. The reality is far more complex than two clean categories suggest.

There are well-documented biological variations that complicate the idea of a strict binary:

• Some individuals are born with XY chromosomes but develop typically female bodies due to androgen insensitivity

• Others are born with XX chromosomes but develop typically male characteristics due to hormonal conditions

• Some people have variations like XXY chromosomes or chimerism, where multiple genetic patterns exist in one body

These are not edge cases in theory. They are part of the natural variation of human biology.

There is something worth naming about what is happening underneath all of this. We label things in order to understand them. Classification is the foundation of science, of knowledge, of how we make sense of a complicated world. That impulse is not wrong. But labels have a shadow side. When we draw a hard line and say this is one thing and that is another, we sometimes mistake the line for reality. The line is ours. Nature does not always agree.

Light does not stop being blue before it becomes green. A person with autism does not flip a switch between functional and not. These things exist on spectrums, and the spectrums are real even when our categories are not. The same is true of sex and gender. As the biology above demonstrates, the variation is far greater than two clean boxes would suggest. When we force a spectrum into a box, we do not eliminate the spectrum. We just make it harder for people to live safely within it, and in some cases, we make it illegal.

I am writing this for a few reasons, and I want to be honest about all of them.

First, for those who are suffering, you deserve to know you are not invisible. Many of us see what is happening. Many of us are angry. Many of us are grieving alongside you, even if we are not living it the way you are.

Second, for those who are still finding their way to understanding. Those who sense that something is wrong but haven’t quite landed on why, or who have been handed a narrative about trans people that doesn’t quite sit right. I hope the specifics here help. Not to argue, but to illuminate. The more clearly we can see what is actually happening to actual people, the harder it becomes to look away.

And third, I want to be careful here, because this is not a moment that calls for easy optimism, and I don’t want this to sound like cold comfort or a reason to wait. But I do see something unexpectedly hopeful buried inside all of this cruelty. Not enough to make today okay. But enough to hold onto. Bear with me.

What I find somewhat ironic about this urgency to say no, trans is not real. It is a social construct. If you are a boy, you are a boy. If you are a girl, you are a girl. Well, then to that I say fine, but you must then refine your understanding of what a boy or girl is. Girls can have beards and boys can have breasts. Girls can have broad shoulders and play rough while boys can enjoy makeup and wear dresses. If you drop the rules for what makes a gender a gender, then trans people don’t have to fight to be another gender. Perhaps conservatives are actually paving a way toward a warmer embrace somewhat in spite of themselves.

But that is way down the road and may or may never happen. Today, we have brothers and sisters, friends, family, neighbors who are being targeted, disenfranchised, attacked physically, verbally, and legislatively. As of March 20, 2026, there are 500 anti LGBTQ bills in the US. 500 bills targeting less than 10% of the population. We have so much more significant issues than what makeup people are wearing or what bathrooms people are using. In my role, I’m continuing to think about what it means to show up in ways that protect dignity and belonging at the local level, even when the broader environment feels uncertain.

To all of you who are suffering, you are not alone. Many of us see you. Many of us hear your cries. Many of us are trying to help where we can. I am deeply sorry, and I hope our society at large can change faster than it will.

---

If this reflection has been of value, you’re welcome to support the time and care that go into this work.

→ Contribute

Substack

While most of my writing lives on this website, I do share occasional writing on Substack for those who prefer to receive it there. You can find me on Substack here.

Learning to Live in Liminal Space

Synthesis Statement: Sessions 1-5

October 2025 — February 2026

Recognizing the Polycrisis

This program is available to anyone, but it will likely resonate most with those who feel a calling — people deeply troubled by the polycrisis unfolding in the world and wondering how they might help. Not merely to observe or cope, or simply optimize what sits within their own circle of influence, but to help steward something genuinely better. That sense of calling becomes the entry point. It is also, in many ways, the first practice: saying yes to a path whose destination is not yet visible.

The world we are asked to face is real, and in many ways it is dire. Ecocide. The human-driven disruption of the climate. An unstable and concentrating global economy. The erosion of civility. The weakening of democratic institutions and the rise of autocracy. These are not distant abstractions. They are the living conditions of our moment. The uncertainty circles not around whether the Old Story is ending, but around how it will unravel and over what time.

What does the world look like 10, 25, 50, or 100 years from now? As artificial intelligence displaces entire categories of work, as climate change reshapes the face of the planet, as wealth and power consolidate in new and intensifying ways, these questions are not rhetorical. They hang in the air. They are the reason this work matters.

The complexity of these problems exceeds our capacity to solve them on our own. We must admit that hubris helped bring us to where we are and allow humility to guide us forward. While science works hard to find solutions, will it reverse climate change quickly enough? Will we find a way to halt species loss? Will our concern for ourselves individually allow us to see past ourselves and care for others? For marginalized communities? The world’s poor? 

Yet, the deepest truths of the world's mystical traditions remain the same. Stay humble. Stay open. Rumi writes: Be helpless, dumbfounded, unable to say yes or no. Then a stretcher will come from grace to gather us up…When we are able to make friends with that beauty, we shall become a mighty kindness. Jesus pointed out the difficulty for the self-sufficient man getting into paradise being comparable to a camel threading the eye of a needle. We need to be open, to be humble, and to be willing to receive help. 

Practice as Foundation

And so, in this program we practice. Daily. We commit to some sort of spiritual engagement. Prayer. Meditation. We find music that inspires. We find and create poetry and art. We write. We create community. We transmit and receive transmission. These practices are not decorative. They are the means by which we shift our interior space so that we can better face and serve the exterior world.

Through this work we begin to recognize something uncomfortable: the Old Story is not only out there, in governments and corporations and markets. It is deeply entrenched in our way of life. It is the story most of us were raised inside. It shapes our instincts about time, productivity, sufficiency, and control. The interior reckoning and the exterior reckoning are inseparable.

To move away from the Old Story we must begin, slowly, to detach from it. Not through rejection or rage, but through a conscious stepping away. We ground ourselves in a space that allows us to see the dying old clearly, to live among its institutions, and yet not be enveloped by it. We give it no heart. Only our witness, our grief for those harmed by it, and our energy directed toward what may come next.

The New Story and Its Seven Qualities

If the Old Story is ending, what replaces it?

The program suggests that the New Story cannot be built simply by opposing the old. The more we focus our attention on what is dying, the more power we inadvertently give it. Instead, we are invited to become a seedbed for what is emerging, placing our attention, imagination, and effort into what is life-giving.

Seven foundational qualities help orient that emerging story:

1. Respecting women and feminine principles

2. Respecting the land as sacred

3. Time no longer seen as linear

4. Non-hierarchical dynamics of power and control

5. Communities of all types

6. Oneness

7. Love

These qualities are not inventions. They represent the recovery of wisdom that has long existed in indigenous traditions, spiritual teachings, and the natural patterns of life itself. Their suppression has caused profound harm. Their recovery opens the possibility of healing.

As the program reminds us: Through it all will run the axis of love, from the center of the Earth to the center of the cosmos, present in every cell of creation.

Each of these qualities names both a place where the Old Story has failed us and a direction toward something more whole.

Stepping into Liminal Space

The program then turns toward one of its central teachings: liminal space.

Liminal space is the threshold, the space between what was and what will be. The terrain of transition. A sacred space. 

To enter liminal space is to consciously step away from the Old Story without yet having arrived in the New. This can feel disorienting. Our culture trains us to rush through uncertainty, to fill the unknown with activity and noise. This program asks something different: to dwell in the in-between.

From this vantage point we gain perspective.

When we make the subject the object, when we can look at the Old Story rather than only looking from inside it, its hold on us begins to loosen. We gain autonomy. We gain agency. We can live within the institutions of the old world without being captured by them.

Reflecting on this idea raises an interesting question:

Are we ever truly outside liminal space?

Once we loosen our attachment to certainty, life itself begins to appear as a continuous threshold, always unfolding between what has been and what may yet become.

To remain steady there requires practice. The simple orientation the program offers captures the posture well:

Witness
Grieve
Pray
Act

These four movements offer a way of orienting ourselves to the great challenges of the world. They describe a posture toward suffering and transformation. But they do not describe the texture of ordinary living.

For that, the practice of mindfulness, of stillness, of presence become essential. These allow us to inhabit each moment with awareness rather than reactivity. They are the ground from which witnessing becomes possible and from which compassionate action can emerge.

In some ways this is not unlike exercise or healthy eating. At first the effort can feel unnatural, even forced. But with time the body begins to recognize what is good for it. What once felt difficult begins to feel normal, even necessary. The longer we fall away from those practices, the harder it is to return. From the inside, though, it becomes clear that this way of being is simply the healthier place to live.

Witnessing, grieving, praying, and acting offer a way of responding to the world. Mindfulness and presence offer a way of inhabiting it.

Witnessing

Witnessing, we have seen, is a tool we use to allow ourselves to separate from the old. It allows us to recognize the pathologies, the hubris, the maladies, the corruption, the destruction — what the Buddha summarized simply as the suffering that emerges from the old story.

As we come into liminal space and allow ourselves to witness, we create that separation for ourselves. Not to dismiss reality, but to ground ourselves in a larger perspective.

Witnessing allows us to see and know much more, precisely because we realize we do not actually have to hold everything we see. We do not have to carry it. It is not ours. Or rather, it no longer needs to be.

And so the question arises: what do we do with what we witness? What do we do with tragedy?

We grieve.

Grieving

Grieving allows us to process the tragedy of the Old Story. It allows us to objectively see and understand it. It allows us to own our own participation in it and then let it go.

We must make peace with our shadow. We must make peace with our tragedy. We must make peace with our mistakes in order to move forward.

And so we grieve.

We grieve for the loss of what we love. We grieve for parts of ourselves and our communities that will never know full flourishing. We grieve for the losses and sorrows of the world. We grieve for what we expected but never received—for unconscious disappointment, loneliness, and a diminished experience of self. And we grieve for the unacknowledged and untended sorrow of those who came before us, for whom we can no longer help in any direct way.

Grieving opens the heart. If we allow it, it opens us to communion. One person’s grieving becomes everyone’s grieving. The more we allow for witnessing and grieving, the more we reconnect with our innocence and our deeper intentions, the more we allow ourselves to move toward love.

Operating from a place of love reshapes the world.

That is the basis of the New Story. A world created from love, from a sense of communion and oneness. From there hierarchy begins to soften. Time loosens its grip. The land is understood again as sacred. Masculine and feminine come back into balance. Communities begin to form around care rather than control.

Life begins to emerge in a more organic and unforced way.

And that emergence is seeded in liminal space, once we separate ourselves from the Old Story and choose to live differently.

---

If this reflection has been of value, you’re welcome to support the time and care that go into this work.

→ Contribute

Substack

While most of my writing lives on this website, I do share occasional writing on Substack for those who prefer to receive it there. You can find me on Substack here.

Imagining and Welcoming a New Story

Following Session 3: Imagining and Welcoming a New Story

December 10, 2025 – January 12, 2026

Synthesis Statement

This session offered an opportunity to examine how we have come to organize our lives with an overemphasis on the wrong values or qualities of reality, or, perhaps more accurately, a misunderstanding of the hierarchies in which we live. 

Many of us implicitly take the Market Economy as the primary driver in our lives. And in daily experience, it can often feel that way. However, more foundational than the market economy is the Human Economy. It is our human minds that created markets, as well as communities, systems of care, compassion, and expressions of wisdom. And even these are nested within an even greater Natural Economy, where the forces and rhythms of nature govern our very existence. And so, we have it backwards. We should instead ground our strength and understanding of reality first in the natural world, and then allow our modes of existing to align with that. This framing of nested economies is articulated by Vandana Shiva. 

When we fail to see the forest for the trees, our limited vision drives decisions that generate disharmony. That disharmony is now threatening our collective well-being, and even our continued existence within these systems. At the time of writing, we see rising inflation, persistently high levels of economic insecurity, mass incarceration, widening gaps between the haves and the have-nots, and increasingly turbulent weather events occurring with greater frequency and severity.

The path to course correction lies in immersing ourselves in recognition and practice of different foundational qualities: respect for one another, an appreciation of the world as sacred, an openness to larger natural rhythms

Report on Practice

This period was a bit different than the others – not because it was more profound, but because it was messier, slower, and more constrained by life as it actually showed up. I was quite ill for more than half of this period, and it unfolded amid the chaos of the holidays. My wife returned from her extended travels, and we had a readjustment period with another person living in the house. 

One goal this period was to select from a provided list of ‘foundational qualities’ and live into them personally and professionally. While we had reviewed and discussed these qualities as a group, choosing which ones to focus on in my own practice was itself a provocative endeavour. Do I go with what feels familiar and accessible? Or do I push farther outside of my comfort zone and attempt to engage what feels most foreign? What might be the healthiest for me long term? What might be best for the program? What might be healthiest for me in the long term? What might be most generative for the program? What might open my eyes in ways others would not?

I went back and forth for some time. Eventually I quieted down and allowed a few qualities to speak to me. The truth is most of them resonated as true and meaningful. Many were qualities I felt I already felt I lived into in various ways – not perfectly, but not superficially either. Still, there were three in particular that called to me just a bit more loudly during this cycle. 

Non-Hierarchy

This quality posed the greatest challenge for me. The idea was that today’s hierarchies are problematic for a multitude of reasons and that a healthier future will function in a much more non-hierarchical way. I offer this reflection primarily to highlight my own struggle. 

I was not able to discover a non-hierarchical truth here. Perhaps I will one day. I can agree deeply that our current value hierarchies are misaligned with structures that would be more globally beneficial. And yet, hierarchies seem inevitable in nature itself: atoms into molecules, into cells, into tissues, into organs, into systems, into bodies, into families, into cultures, into, into, into. It’s turtles all the way up, and down. 

Bureaucracy, for better or worse, becomes a necessary tool for organizing complexity at scale. Can we do better? Yes. Should we? Absolutely. Does that mean looking deeply at our current structures and potentially disrupting them? Certainly. But does that mean that hierarchies themselves are inherently bad? I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway. 

Oneness

Can we include all people as we think through problems? Can we make decisions that treat everyone equitably? We certainly should try. How do we value everyone and everything for what it is – as a foundational orientation – before we begin making decisions? This feels like a noble effort, and one I attempt to embrace in my work as an elected official.

I tried to meditate daily on this idea, and to notice where my openness to oneness breaks down. I thought of professional experiences in which people failed to honor commitments, cheated, lied, or acted out of greed or self-interest. In situations where I experienced myself as the “victim,” it was those individuals with whom I struggled most to feel a sense of oneness. It is easy to feel that “we are all in this together” in the abstract. It is much harder when someone has taken from you, overtly or covertly. 

In a conversation with my program partner, we discussed this struggle, and he reminded me of the value of forgiveness. That immediately clicked. Forgiveness became a doorway to oneness. 

As I reflected further, I realized that not forgiving is a way of holding onto the past. It keeps turbulent emotions alive within me, while the other person may not be thinking about me at all. Much of my pain, I noticed, was actually anger at myself for not seeing warning signs, for not protecting myself, for how I responded in those moments. 

In that sense, forgiveness is largely about forgiving myself. It allows me to move forward without forgetting what happened. I can remember who those people showed themselves to be and choose not to give them what I once did, while also recognizing that they, too, are living in their own limited worlds, shaped by their own interpretations of life and reality. And in that, we are the same. 

I am not fully there yet. I know that certain situations may still bring emotional turbulence. But I am closer to oneness than I was when this practice began, and for that, I am grateful. 

Living in Harmony with Time Rather Than a Strictly Linear View 

Throughout my life, I have had many experiences that have broadened my perspective of time. I have experienced moments of déjà vu where I recall memories (sometimes even recalling the memory of having the memory) only later to find myself living through the event. I have also  experienced moments where intentions or desires manifested not through effort or force, but in their own time, when they were naturally ready to come about. 

A recent and relatively mundane example helped clarify this distinction for me. 

For some time, I had anticipated the need for an additional car. My son is now driving and needs transportation for school, extracurricular activities, and time with friends. We had been sharing cars, but it reached a point where doing so created more conflict our schedules could comfortably support. So, I began shopping for a car and eventually made a purchase in the second week of December. 

Because the car was out of state, it needed to be shipped. I also authorized the dealer to send temporary plates so I could drive the car while awaiting for permanent plates – a fairly standard process. Around this same time, I became quite ill, likely with some form of the flu. Despite this, my project management instincts kicked in. I tracked timelines, followed up with the dealer repeatedly, monitored shipping details, and pushed to resolve outstanding issues such as registration paperwork and infotainment system pairing. 

Despite my efforts, progress was very slow. The dealer was at times unresponsive, and it wasn’t until the second week of January that everything was fully complete: the car was in my driveway, the system was connected, and the temporary plates arrived. 

Looking back from a broader perspective, I can see that during the holidays my family’s schedule was more flexible. While I was sick, I wasn’t driving much anyway. When I actually needed an additional car, there was one available. By the time school resumed and schedules tightened, everything was in place. In other words, we had exactly what we needed, when we needed it. 

I don’t share this to suggest that one should never intervene. In fact, the dealer made an error and failed to process the temporary plates until I followed up. But the larger rhythm of events unfolded differently than the timeline I believed was necessary. The car became legally drivable when I truly needed it, and not before. 

When I widen the lens further, this pattern appears elsewhere in my life. After the stress of nearly losing my wife to cancer (she is thankfully in remission), the loss of my daughter, and deep vocational burnout, I needed the world to slow down. And in many ways, it did. I was given time to step into a meaningful role on the City Council, time to be more present with my son, time to grieve, and time to begin reimagining how I want to live the next chapter of my life. 

That work continues. Daily meditation helps me stay present – feeling what I feel, thinking what I think, evaluating options, reshaping habits, and slowly stepping into a New Story. I still don’t know exactly what that story is, but I am becoming more comfortable with not knowing. 

In our last session, someone shared the idea of emptying ourselves so we can be a vessel for input from Spirit. I am finding increasing comfort in that emptiness. We also heard the words: I don’t need to see. I don’t need to know. I only ask to be of use. That feels like one of the only sane aspirations in a world that so often feels absurd. 

Poem

Finally, this period, we were asked to write a poem that expresses our sense of our collective need for a new story. Here’s mine:

Nurture has dominated Nature.
The masses are exhausted.
I am exhausted.

What do you see, little bird, as you look down upon the world?
Do you see the angst? Do you see the confusion? 
Animals pushed out of developments. 
The “unsophisticated” pushed to the margins. 
Culture pushed out for power. 
It’s cheaper to feed than cage, 
but caging feeds the powerful, 
and the powerful are hungry.

And where is healing? How do we find solace? 
It’s here. 
It’s now. 
It will be present, 
when enough people are too.

---

If this reflection has been of value, you’re welcome to support the time and care that go into this work.

→ Contribute

Substack

While most of my writing lives on this website, I do share occasional writing on Substack for those who prefer to receive it there. You can find me on Substack here.

A Long Loving Look at the Real

Following Session 2: A Long Loving Look at the Real

November 12 – December 9, 2025

Synthesis Statement

This session invited us to take a long, loving look at the reality of the meta, or poly-crisis we inhabit, and how we can best orient ourselves in that reality. We acknowledged that our lives have largely unfolded within the ‘Old Story,’ and thus, moving towards a New Story will bring some existential challenges. The call now is to let the heart guide the cultivation of a New Story. While we may exist within Old Story institutions, we no longer have to give them our heart. 

As Stewards, we ground ourselves through practice so that we may see clearly through the turbulence of the present and midwife what is emerging. We engage in meditation, prayer, contemplation, the arts, and action, all to help cultivate our awareness and footing in the New Story. So doing will not only allow us to help others understand what is happening amidst the chaos in their lives, but will also cultivate in us the ability to serve as builders and leaders of what is to come. 

Report on Practice

This cycle, my awareness shifted again. I entered the program somewhat thinking we were going to learn the principles, tactics, and narrative to better lead in the world. Following the first and into the second session, I moved a bit more internal, sensing the work is more interior: how do we align ourselves to deal with the “ungovernable complexity” of the world. Now, entering into the third session, I have a deeper sense of the interplay between the two worlds – the interior and exterior. 

So, what were some of the practices and triggers that helped me land there? 

Scaffolding: 

A term I first came across in a college course on Philosophy of Psychology, scaffolding involves modifying your external environment as a reminder to do something. As per a homework assignment, I put on my office wall the note: No more will I give myself to the Old Story. This both reminded me on a daily basis that my orientation should be toward a New Story, and it also sparked a couple of conversations with others who stopped by my office. It also occurred to me that both cultivating a work of art showing the old and new story, as well as finding music that helps you into the New Story, is a form of scaffolding as well. 

For a long time, I have been looking to move into a New Story, but I often found limitations. I could not crystallize what I was trying to become. I was unsure of where and when to do what. The whole movement felt very amorphous, nebulous. In a conversation with Bill Grace, he affirmed the challenge of thinking your way to an answer and offered that having some more formal structure often leads to greater traction. I am already finding this program to be doing exactly that. Capturing synthesis statements, recording my practice, talking to a program buddy, meeting with the full group, all these things are a structure, scaffolding to help facilitate change. 

More concisely: The structure of the Stewardship program itself—synthesis statements, practice logs, buddy conversations, group sessions—has become its own form of scaffolding. It is already providing the traction that pure introspection never did. The external form is supporting an internal realignment toward the New Story.

Community:

My buddy helped me realize the value of this Stewardship community. I left organized religion at about 13 years old. I studied religion in college, so I did not entirely leave spirituality. I just left the communal practice of worship. Buddhism talks about the Three Jewels: the Buddha (the awakened being), the Dharma (his teachings), and the Sangha (the community). Rooting oneself in these is the foundation for Buddhist practice. I never really appreciated the community pillar. I thought of people who went to church, temple, mosque, and monastery, etc., together and very much loved their communities, but never felt that was something I needed. Similarly, I always felt fine doing yoga on my own, or running, or lifting weights. I did not need, or particularly want, a workout class. 

However, after a conversation with my program buddy, I realized that maybe my not feeling the need for the community was more about my not resonating with the teachings, the vernacular, of those faiths. While our cohort has only had two group sessions so far, it is evident to me that my commitment to my practice is strengthened by the community. My interest in being accountable to myself, my interest in evolving with the group, my interest in exploring my personal growth, and my interest in understanding the experiences of others in the program all serve as fuel (and scaffolding), both igniting and driving deeper practice. What I once believed was a preference for solitary practice now appears, at least in part, more like an absence of resonance with prior communities. In contrast, this Stewardship circle feels aligned in purpose and language, making community not only meaningful, but essential.

Centering:

Recent conversation about the Centering Prayer from The Cloud of Unknowing further reminded and encouraged me to choose a verbal anchor during meditation, a reminder to come back to center, to be fully present. I experimented with different words at different times. Sometimes I found simply my breath to be the best anchor and more serene than any word could be.  

I heard an interview with Ken Wilber. He pointed out that our ego is a self-contraction. We don’t need to destroy it. We don’t need to feed it. We need to recognize it and transcend it. I appreciated this description as it very much reflects the physical sensation I experience when I am getting trapped in myself. My world contracts. I have a hard time seeing the bigger picture. All I see are problems that I somehow have to navigate. But all of that is a contraction, and when I recognize that, I can realize that I need to take steps to shift my perspective so I can transcend my stuckness.  

One day was a particularly challenging day for me. I had had a very stressful week and was contracting ever more into myself. I needed to shift my energy, shift my perspective, change my scenery. I decided to get out into nature. It was a beautiful fall day, complete with a soft rain. I knew with a proper shell, waterproof shoes, and the forest canopy, I’d be fine. When I remember, I like to try to turn my hike into a blend of walking meditation and forest bathing. Be as present as you can. Smell the smells, see the sights, hear the sounds, feel the air around you, and yes, maybe even go hug a tree. In this case, I decided to try a mantra. As I walked, out loud I would say: help me relax into the New Story…help me relax into the new story…help me relax…

I loved this mantra and practice for a few reasons. I allowed myself to repeat the phrase out loud. That helped get out of my head and into the world. After all, my sound was ‘entering the outside’. The phrasing itself was powerful for me. ‘Help me relax’ reminded me that orienting to a New Story was a natural state, the present is a natural state. I could let go of my contraction, of my thoughts, my preconceptions, my concerns. I could simply relax. Further, it reminded me that by relaxing, I was entering a New Story. I was present with a New Story, even if only for a moment. There was nothing separating me from my role, my contribution in this New Story. And finally, it was an exercise in visualization. I know some people have aphantasia, the inability to see images in their head. But that is not me. I do see images. So, every time I said ‘New Story, I caught a glimpse of what that New Story could be. If my mind wandered, when I returned to the mantra – help me relax into the New Story – the image that appeared in my mind of the New Story often related in some way to whatever I was wandering over just moments before. “Help me relax into the New Story” helped me relax; it helped me anchor to the present. Every time I said “New Story,” I was both again present and catching a tiny glimpse of what that New Story was becoming. I was fully present, I was immersing myself into the New Story, and I was catching minute glimpses of that New Story. In that moment, “help me relax into the New Story” became not just a mantra, but a doorway—an embodied reminder that presence itself is New Story consciousness.

One other item I want to include:

Bill Grace said, either at this most recent session or in the first session, “great, these are the conversations I want to be having.” While he, in part, appeared to be saying that somewhat to himself in affirmation of the work we were doing together, to me it highlighted something very important. Just as we all are, he, too, is building a New Story. He is creating something that shapes the future in a way that feels most aligned with his own inner drive and purpose. The humility and humanity in that comment, and the genuine reflection of him as a practitioner as well as a teacher, was a perfect example of what we can all be doing. 

Community & The Gift Economy: 

This period, we were encouraged to participate in (or start) a local Buy Nothing group. I find myself grateful that our small town has an active Buy Nothing group in which I regularly participate. I have acquired new things, passed along things I was no longer using, and even borrowed items for a short time in periods of need. For example, neighbors I did not know allowed me to borrow a stroller and kid carrier backpack when out-of-town visitors with kids stayed with us for a bit. I made sure to take a moment to appreciate this community and how it functions so well in our community, and that we all exchange goods we need as it benefits us all. No transactions, nothing in return but a thank you. You feel good as both giver and receiver. 

With our conversations about the Cloud of Unknowing, I recalled I know some folks that might really enjoy that book. They love Christian literature and often read together. It felt great to allow myself to go online, buy two copies, and then deliver the books during a visit. Somehow, I felt quite liberated to do so, and it was a gift to me to give to someone else. 

Finally, in this Community and Gift Economy category, I have found myself this month beginning to think about how to retool my offerings at Our Olive Branch. I want to shift my revenue model to whatever degree I can away from being transactional and have it be aligned with the value my clients feel I provide. I think this will open the door to deeper, more meaningful conversations that don’t necessarily have to be about a deliverable, but an orientation to working. I have some books I need to read, and am hoping to do a deeper contemplation around things like Universal Basic Income and Social Credit systems when I have some open time. 

I have decided to build a website that might host some of my examinations of these ideas, reflections on books, and reports such as this one. At the moment, I am feeling like this ties many of these threads together for me. It gives me purpose, structure, offers my work as a gift, and it possibly contributes to community and connection. 

These experiments—giving freely, receiving without transaction, letting generosity be its own reward—are quietly rewiring my economic imagination. They are helping me discern how my professional work might also move toward a more relational, trust-based model.

Music and connection: 

One of the assignments this time was to “Recall and listen to a piece of music that supports you in taking a long, loving look at the real and in continuing your disconnection from the Old Story.” This was an interesting journey for me. I have been navigating some vestibular symptoms that have made much additional stimulation for me very hard. I often try listing to music and find it just too difficult to listen to. I try different genres, different volumes, with and without lyrics, and it has been rare that it’s felt ok. This in and of itself has been very sad for me because I love music. It is one of the ways I often destress. 

Over the course of my life, I have spent more hours with Phish than with any other band/composer/artist. Their ability to play pretty much any genre well, and their constant mixing of those genres into cohesive pieces of music is really special. Many people don’t ‘get’ Phish, but there is no doubt to me that 100 years from now, people will still be talking about Phish. 

When I was contemplating what ‘piece of music would help me shift from Old to New Story’, I was going through Phish’s deep catalog to try to decide what would be best. Nothing was jumping out at me in any obvious ways. Certainly, I often found their music to be opening, because of how they do live improvisation throughout most performances. It is active creation based on the energy in the moment. Their shows are an active striving for those moments of ‘flow state’ for the band and audience to all be one, held together by music. Yet, no one song was coming to me. So, I thought to myself, maybe I need to find new music. Something very different from what I typically listen to. A new soundtrack for a shift into a New Story. 

I decided Jacob Collier would be a great place to start. If you don’t know Jacob, you should spend some time. He is young, understands music in ways many people alive today will never, and he is tapped into a well of creativity that many of us only sense. There was a story not terribly long ago about AI. Researchers gave Google’s DeepMind the rules for the Chinese game Go. When playing against a person, DeepMind executed moves that were perfectly legal, yet no human had ever thought of anything like that. It was mindblowing. Jacob is sort of like that. He finds and assembles harmonies and musical cadences that are beautiful and way outside of what we are used to. It may not immediately satisfy your soul like your favorite music does, but there is something really special about it, and people who deeply understand music, music theory are regularly mind-blown by Jacob. So, I decided to spend some time with his music this period. 

With all that said, during this period, the lead composer and guitarist for Phish was playing a fundraiser set of shows. He did something similar 5 years ago and it was beautiful so I decided to watch it. He incorporates classical musicians playing cello and violins, classical piano, with a traditional base guitar, drum kit, lead guitar, a horns section, backup singers, a world percussionist, and a jazz/blues/improv keyboardist. The music was absolutely fantastic. Probably 50%-60% were Phish songs with altered arrangements for this format. 

Side story for background. My daughter hated smoke alarms. She obviously hated the noise, but also the little lights on them. She would put electrical tape over the lights on the smoke alarms in her room so she would not ever notice it in the dark. She once joked that she was going to run for president and her platform would be to banish all smoke alarms. 

Lately, I have been trying to stay open to signs from the universe – little nudges to let you know this or that. Since my daughter died, there have been a few types of signs that it seem she tends to send. Since her death, I am quite confident that she has set off our fire alarms at key moments to let us know she is there. I could expand on some examples but I think that is a bit more than we need here at the moment. I’d also like to add that I am hard of hearing and grew up not really listening to lyrics. To me, the voice really has always been an instrument more than a vehicle for poetry in music. I am wrong about that – the lyrics are meaningful and can carry a song's essence – but it is part of my New Story to understand that. My son is helping me. He sings, solo and in various ensembles, so his music usually has no instrumental accompaniment. That has shifted me to listen more to lyrics when I can hear them clearly. 

So, during the concert I was streaming, I was sitting alone in the room, just quietly enjoying the music. They started playing a song that I am familiar with. It’s a fine song, but was never one of my favorites. It usually has a good improv section, so I am sort of waiting for that part to tune in more. As I am looking at my phone and half listening, the thought again comes to me, that I am meeting with the Stewards again soon and really need to find a song to include in my report on practice. And just as I have that thought, the smoke alarms go of for maybe 2-3 beeps. I stopped, and realized what the lyrics of the current song were and realized my daughter was telling me this is the song I have been looking for. In that instant, the ordinary became luminous. The lyrics I’d always skimmed past suddenly revealed themselves as a teaching: a letting go of the Old Story’s contraction and an anchoring in the present where “everything’s right.”

Everything’s Right, by Phish (edited out repetition in chorus for more efficient reading)

Time to get out, I've paid my dues
I need to shout there's no time to lose
No more to give, the well is dry
The pavements worn, my brain is fried
It's time to get out, I've paid my dues

My shoes have holes, my socks are bare
The mirror's secret is I'm losing my hair
I'm in prison without a crime
The sentence stretches on undefined
It's time to get out, I've paid my dues
I've paid my dues

But everything's right
So just hold tight
Everything's right
So just hold tight (repeats several times)

I'm going downhill with increasing speed
And compassion gives way, if you listen to greed
Focus on the past and that's what will last
Nothing that is real and nothing you can feel
Focus on tomorrow you'll have to borrow
Images and mind and thoughts you've left behind
Focus on today and you'll find a way
Happiness is how
Rooted in the now
'Cause, everything's right
So just hold tight (repeats several times)

Look into the eyes of everyone you meet
Try not to step on your best friend's feet
The line is in the sand, the flag is planted
The rest of your life
Don't take it for granted

'Cause, everything's right
So just hold tight (repeats) 

This world, this world
This crazy world I know
It turns, it turns
And the long night's over and the sun's coming up (stanza repeats several times)

Wrap up:

Across this cycle of practice, what I am noticing most is that the New Story is not a destination but an orientation—a way of seeing, sensing, and responding. Through scaffolding, community, contemplative practice, gift exchange, and even music, I am slowly training my attention toward presence, sufficiency, and connection. These small openings feel like early signs of the larger consciousness shift we are here to bring forth together.

---

If this reflection has been of value, you’re welcome to support the time and care that go into this work.

→ Contribute

Substack

While most of my writing lives on this website, I do share occasional writing on Substack for those who prefer to receive it there. You can find me on Substack here.

Longing for a New Story

Following Session 1: Longing for a New Story

October 14 – November 11, 2025

Synthesis Statement

In our first session, we introduced ourselves — not just our names or roles, but the deeper reasons we showed up. I felt genuinely honored to be among people who care deeply, who give large parts of their lives to service, and who seem to be asking similar questions about how to live well during times of uncertainty.

Together we explored the idea that an old way of orienting to the world is loosening, and something new is beginning to take shape. We’re in a liminal space — the space between stories — where the old no longer fits and the new has not yet arrived.

Our work, individually and collectively, is to become conscious of that transition and to learn the part each of us is called to play.

During a brief period of silent meditation, Bill said something as we were coming back: “…the community you are building.” That landed. It reminded me that while the future is unclear, creating community — real community — is already part of the work. It is itself a step into the new story.

It felt like a grounding place to begin.

Report on Practice

Over the past month, I’ve meditated for about twenty minutes a day. I’ve probably missed a couple of days, but overall I’ve been steady. My practice partner and I met weekly, except for the week he was traveling.

This stretch of time has been intense. My wife has been traveling for the past month and will be away for a little while longer. I’ve been single-parenting while continuing my City Council work and running a re-election campaign. And last week marked two years since my daughter’s death.

This is the environment in which I’ve been practicing.

Institutional Change & Creative Destruction

I read recently about this year’s Nobel Prize in Economics, awarded for research into how innovation and “creative destruction” fuel economic growth. This felt relevant as I’ve watched long-standing institutions destabilize in recent years. That destabilization can feel alarming, but somewhere in it I sense the possibility that we may eventually build better, more humane structures. Something new may yet arise from what collapses. And given how entrenched our institutions have become, perhaps this is the only way they shift.

Point of clarification:

“Creative destruction” refers not to destroying something and then building anew, but to how creative innovations inadvertently dismantle old structures. I’m not saying that’s what is happening in our current moment, though you could argue that some efforts or movements are attempts at it. More, I’m observing the opportunities that emerge when the norms and assumptions of institutional life are disrupted.

Disruption is rarely comfortable, but it can expose openings that were previously invisible.

Breath as Boundary and Bridge

I watched an interview with a Shaolin monk who said that breath is the unifying element between our physical body and our more amorphous mind. He described exhaling as “…when breath enters the outside.”

That phrasing lodged itself in me. During meditation, I sometimes try to feel that — not breath leaving my body, but breath entering the outside. It shifts my sense of boundary, subtly softening the line between what I think of as ‘me’ and everything beyond.

A Glimpse of Non-Duality

While meditating, I had a touch of a non-dual experience that clarified something I had previously only understood intellectually.

Spiritual literature often says that “there is no separation between self and other.” Many of us work to achieve some depth of knowing that, but it’s difficult to access with the rational mind. However, when we are actually in a non-dual state, the reason there is no separation becomes clear: neither “self” nor “other” exists independently. As soon as we form the concept of either one, we are no longer in non-duality. Even the idea of “non-separation” creates separation. 

Simply put, language dissolves at the threshold of experience.

All there is… is all there is.

The Metacrisis as Initiation

A quote I came across struck me:

The metacrisis isn’t something to solve — it’s an initiation we must undergo. We’re not facing problems that need fixing but a species-wide transformation that requires us to grow up. This isn’t about finding the right answer but becoming the kind of beings who can navigate ungovernable complexity together. The crisis is the curriculum.

This feels true for the moment we are in — individually, collectively, and through this program. We may or may not identify tactical levers for writing a new story, but what we are doing is creating a liminal space in our lives: a fertile ground where a new paradigm might take shape. The work ahead isn’t technical; it’s transformational.

This is about aligning ourselves — becoming. How do we shift our being in such a way that we can “navigate ungovernable complexity together”? Ultimately this becomes an individual act of consciously working with others for the benefit of yet others — all of us.

This was also aligned with my earlier comment about “creative destruction.”

Liminal Space as Sacred

My practice partner shared something that reframed liminality for me.

He pointed out that liminal space isn’t only “the unknown between two things.” It also refers to moments, places, and experiences that open us to the sacred.

This moment — in our lives and in our shared history — is sacred. All moments are, but when we recognize that a shift is happening and remain present to it, honoring it, we may find the openings that invite our highest contribution. Sacredness blooms when attention meets transition.

The Drawing Assignment

Our homework assignment was to draw a picture of ourselves moving from the “Old Story” to the “New Story.” The prompt initially led me to imagine a figure stepping away from the Old Story. Later, the image evolved into a meditator — perhaps because my practice this month was rooted in meditation, or because the shift we’re undergoing feels interior as much as exterior. 

I kept thinking about emerging structures like co-ops, B Corps, universal basic income, concepts of pluralism, and shifts away from structures like Jim Crow, mass incarceration, and tribalism. These “new” concepts are promising, but they already exist; they’re not the New Story itself. The New Story is still undefined, still forming. It may or may not include these newer concepts. Doing the art project helped me feel this territory — the evolution toward what may come.

Integration Through Reflection

Finally, I want to note that simply taking the time to record these reflections has been meaningful. It’s easy to notice something, or have an idea, and move on. Being accountable — to others and to myself — and the act of writing it down helps crystallize the moment and integrate it more fully into my being.

---

If this reflection has been of value, you’re welcome to support the time and care that go into this work.

→ Contribute

Substack

While most of my writing lives on this website, I do share occasional writing on Substack for those who prefer to receive it there. You can find me on Substack here.

Reports on Practice: An Introduction

In October 2025, I joined a year-long leadership and spiritual development program called the New Story Stewards, led by Bill Grace. The program meets monthly and asks participants to maintain a daily contemplative practice while reflecting on questions about how to live and lead well during times of profound transition and complexity.

I came to this work for reasons that have been building for years. My life exists at several intersections: public service and inner work, organizational consulting and spiritual practice, the demands of showing up for my community and the quiet necessary to stay grounded in myself. For a long time, I've been looking for a structure that could help me integrate these dimensions rather than toggle between them. I've also been seeking a community of people engaged in similar questions—not just intellectually, but as a lived practice.

The program has given me both: a container for sustained contemplation and a group of fellow travelers who take the interior work of leadership seriously.

Why Make This Public?

Each month, participants are asked to write a brief "Report on Practice"—a summary of how our daily spiritual practice has unfolded, what insights have emerged, what we've struggled with. I've found myself writing much longer reflections than required. What started as a program assignment has become something closer to field notes from an ongoing experiment in paying attention.

I've decided to share these reports publicly for a few reasons.

First, accountability. There's something clarifying about writing for an audience beyond myself and the small circle of program participants. It sharpens my attention and makes me more honest about what I'm actually experiencing versus what I think I should be experiencing.

Second, connection. I suspect others are navigating similar territory—trying to show up with integrity in their work and communities while also doing the quieter inner work of becoming more whole. If these reflections resonate with even a few people, that feels worthwhile.

Third, offering. For years I've benefited from others who've been willing to document their own practice and process publicly. This is part of that larger gift economy—making visible some of what usually remains private, in case it's useful to someone else.

And finally, integration. I'm building this site as a place to bring together different threads of my life: reflections on civic leadership, notes from books I'm reading, examinations of ideas I'm working with. These Reports on Practice belong here. They're part of the same orientation—toward learning how to be more present, more useful, more aligned with what matters.

What to Expect

These reports are personal and incomplete. They are written from within the process, not from some position of having arrived. They document what one person is noticing, practicing, and becoming as I try to show up more consciously in my life and work.

You'll find reflections on contemplative practice—meditation, walking in nature, working with mantras and silence. You'll find thoughts about community, about disconnecting from old patterns and orienting toward new ones, about grief and gratitude. You'll find stories from daily life: conversations that shifted something, music that opened a door, small experiments in living differently.

The writing will vary. Sometimes more structured, sometimes more stream-of-consciousness. Sometimes focused on a single insight, sometimes ranging across multiple threads. These are field notes, not polished essays. I'm keeping them that way intentionally—the roughness feels truer to the work itself.

I won't be explaining the program's framework or curriculum in detail. That's not my story to tell, and it's not the point. What I'm offering here is simply my own experience of engaging with questions about how to live well during complex times, how to cultivate an interior life that can sustain outer work, and how to stay grounded and useful when the world feels increasingly ungovernable.

An Invitation

If you find yourself drawn to these questions—how to live with integrity during times of transition, how to balance action with contemplation, how to stay connected to what's real and human amid so much noise—then perhaps these reports will resonate.

You don't need to be in a formal program or have a developed spiritual practice to engage with this material. You just need to be curious about the relationship between your inner life and your outer work, between who you're becoming and what you're able to offer.

I'm sharing these reflections in the spirit of companionship for anyone walking a similar path. We're all figuring this out together, and sometimes it helps to know what someone else is noticing along the way.

New Reports on Practice will be posted monthly as the program unfolds. Shared with the program founder's blessing, to ensure these reflections represent only my personal experience.Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.

---

If this reflection has been of value, you’re welcome to support the time and care that go into this work.

→ Contribute

Substack

While most of my writing lives on this website, I do share occasional writing on Substack for those who prefer to receive it there. You can find me on Substack here.