The passage of time is horrifying to face and acknowledge. But can it lead to something beautiful?
No angel of G0d came, no replacement animal happened by the scene. Abraham slashed down at the neck of his blessed son, spilling his blood on the holy mountain.
Elizabeth reflects on the whirlwind experience of a funeral, the challenge of processing an event in the moment, and the things we rely on to keep going
We're always talking about "it." It is glorious outside. It is a shame. But what IS this "it"?
Life used to seem magical. I'd succeed against the odds and even against the facts. Can I regain some of that power?
This practice of our particular brand of loving is an unnerving and relentless remembering.
Open your mind, and possibilities that once seemed inconceivable emerge. It's a wild, soul-bending adventure.
Death, you are my hugest fear, but also a sneaky beam of brilliant hope for transcendence.
