New Year’s can quietly turn into a pressure cooker. A reflection on the “clean year” myth, happiness as a checklist, and choosing small returns back to what’s real instead of more pressure.
For a long time, I did not enjoy being alone with myself. This reflection explores the difference between being alone and being lonely, and what changed along the way.
Many of us wear a smile that says “I’m fine” even when something inside is not. This reflection explores the quiet cost of pretending, the masks we learn to wear, and the relief that comes when we find places where honesty is allowed and being human is enough.
In the hours before becoming a grandfather, I found myself reflecting on presence, family, and what we carry forward from the generations before us. Sometimes the most meaningful moments are found in the waiting.
I’m a former Christian pastor who now aligns with Buddhist principles and practices, and this reflection shares how I got from one place to the other. My journey isn’t a blueprint—it’s simply an honest look at where life has led me.
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.
