Blog

For the Love of God

In every religion I have sought to rediscover God in, I have found God in every moment I have spent or will spend there. My insight into the metaphysics of this world and the nature of God expands every time. I have not found a million places where God is not. I’ve found a million places where God is, alongside a million names and forms and modes of ritual and belief pointing ever higher to this figure—invisible to those taught to look away, silent to those taught not to trust their own hearing—yet not gone, not minuscule, not needing to be replaced, merely needing to be remembered. God is transcendent. God is resplendent.

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The Tremendous Joy of the Nest Outside My Window

For the last few years, raising animals has been a big source of joy in my life. I’ve gotten to work with baby goats, and my bee houses have sheltered hundreds of wild bees in this area. Watching these birds up close through the whole process of nesting, feeding, and learning to fly out of the nest though—this was something spectacular. I’m so grateful that they chose to nest in front of my window. It was really the first time I’ve gotten to observe so completely how animal families operate largely independent of human interaction.

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Compassion (Fatigue) in the Land of So Much Suffering Pt. 2

As clients, a little part of us can escape our pain when we think of our therapist as someone who has only just come down off some mountain’s vipassana retreat, mala beads still wrapped around sun-kissed, never-sore arm. Even visibly sweating as a therapist can shatter this illusion. But beyond escape, might we—therapists and clients alike—reach something more like healing if we could both be people, striving in a world we have not escaped, where suffering, pain, bills, and trauma still deeply affect us?

When we wellness professionals internalize this archetype of the escaped healer, we come into conflict with the reality of the world, and we set ourselves up for compassion fatigue because we may begin to believe our capacity to do without more than superficial care for ourselves is what qualifies us to help others.

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The Widespread Abuse and Traumatization of Children in the United States Stops Here.

It is not enough for us to simply stop separating families, stop dehumanizing other people, and stop shuffling their children into a system of widespread sexual assault if not outright trafficking—as important as ending each of those things is. We owe it to these people we have injured to care for the physical and psychological wounds we have inflicted.

We owe it to ourselves, to our own children, and to future generations of global citizens to acknowledge the reality of this situation, to acknowledge what our bigotry, willful ignorance, and civic passivity have permitted, and to educate one another on the processes that led us here so that we may better avoid them in the future. We owe it to every child in the world to take responsibility for our contributions to the society where they grow up.

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More Than Just Sickness Care: What Chronically Ill Americans Like Me Fight For

To say it’s refreshing to hear Marianne acknowledge the integrative nature of health and the interconnectivity of public conditions which sicken and disable many of us is an understatement. No one I’ve so far encountered in the medical establishment wants to hear this stuff. And no other politician or non-disabled activist group seems to want to go that deep with us. Whether you’re on board with her campaign or not, Marianne Williamson has raised the bar. This conversation is no longer ending at what kind of healthcare plans candidates are pledging to fight for. We’re no longer stopping at what meds individuals can access or how we personally relate to our bodies. We’re talking about environmental, nutritional, and economic conditions now too.

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Finding Earth Religion in the Trash

On some level we crave innovation. At the same time we are made to feel so powerless and so ashamed, that we often seem to prefer inaction rather than engagement with the innovation we encounter. Trash is personal like that. When approached as an art form, it’s the most intimate medium I know. Even when you go to very physical arts involving the body or our sexualities, culture, food, fashion—we’re still consciously curating something the whole way through. We’re in an intentional conversation with our parents, religion, society, our oppressors, whoever.

With trash, we are rarely in this sort of dialogue. We are discarding. We are burying. We are throwing away. Trash is a record of all that we consume. Trash tells us everything about the most un-acknowledged parts of ourselves. In this context, I think we attach a lot of shame to it.

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