Meditation has quietly shaped the way I move through my life — helping me stay present, loosen my grip on old stories, and respond with more clarity instead of reactivity. This reflection explores the two simple practices that continue to anchor me, both in recovery and in everyday life.
We speak thousands of words each day — but how often do we notice their impact? This reflection explores how mindfulness and the Buddhist teaching of Wise Speech can transform the way we communicate. Through personal examples and gentle awareness, it’s a reminder that every word creates a ripple.
When the clocks turn back and the days grow shorter, it’s easy to feel like something’s slipping away. But these darker days remind us to pause, to look back just long enough to learn — and then to return our eyes to the road ahead, moving forward with a little more peace and presence.
When the Apollo 8 astronauts turned their camera back toward Earth, they gave us more than a photograph — they gave us perspective. From that distance, there were no sides, no borders, no “us versus them.” Just one fragile, beautiful home.
Last weekend, Emily and I were in Chicago — and it just happened to be marathon weekend. Watching the runners brought back a flood of memories from my own eight Chicago Marathons. What stood out most wasn’t race day, but the training — the quiet, consistent miles that no one sees. Those “treadmill days” taught me that the real work happens long before the finish line.
On one of those long solo runs years ago, something clicked: the most important mile isn’t the one ahead or behind — it’s the one I’m in. It’s the only mile I can enjoy, and the only one I can do anything about. That truth has carried me through recovery and through life — a reminder to stay present in the mile I’m living right now.
There was a time when I lived almost entirely in reaction—scrambling to fix, manage, and control life. Today, I’m learning that peace begins in the pause: those few mindful breaths between what happens and how we respond.
I once thought a good life meant having the right answers. Over time I began to feel the dissonance between what I said and what I truly believed. It took me years to name it—and even longer to give myself permission to question without guilt. In this reflection, I share how honest conversations, including six episodes with my son on his podcast Finding My Religion, helped me trace the journey and land on Buddhist principles that now guide me toward presence, steadiness, and compassion.
A lot of life has happened between that wide-eyed boy and the man I am today. Decades filled with joy, love, mistakes, regrets, and ultimately recovery. Sitting in that gallery, looking at the preserved consoles of Mission Control while the Apollo 11 landing data scrolled across the screens, I realized something important: the sense of wonder and possibility that once fueled a boy’s space dreams is the same spirit that now sustains me in recovery.
For most of my life, I held tightly to old identities — pastor, perfectionist, the one who had it all together. Letting go of those versions of myself wasn’t weakness; it was freedom. In this reflection, I explore the paradox of surrender and the unexpected liberation that comes when we release who we thought we had to be.
The Enso, a sacred symbol in Zen Buddhism, embodies the beauty of imperfection and the journey of life. It teaches us that wholeness is not found in perfection, but in presence. My path to recovery has been anything but linear, filled with setbacks and lessons. Embracing the idea that life is about beginning again each day has transformed my perspective. Through meditation and the simplicity of the Enso, I’ve learned to let go of control and fully experience the present moment. Discover how this open circle can inspire you to live with honesty, vulnerability, and peace.
