In this work of tending our souls, we are fulfilling our most essential task — we are loving the world. 

There’s a communal nature to wisdom. Our journeys overlap — sometimes in physical life, and sometimes outside of it — words and presence across time and space.

As my driver pulled away from Mercy Center, and I began the journey home from wisdom school, I was suddenly surprised by a subtle, but strong perception. An intuition. A knowing - the felt sense of homesickness.

For much of my life, I sought answers before I began walking. I'm finding practices that support me in living into the questions.

Love was the landmark. Love was the muscle memory. Love was the guide.

I’m holding space for our tender hearts, heavy with tensions and contradictions, the places we feel unseen and in between.

I’m asking you to notice what breaks your heart — what doesn’t feel right in your body — and to be curious about the why.

I’m singing these lyrics with all the love I can muster as a testimony to those of you who are presently in agony around this condition of being alive.

A “dark night of the soul” is a season of obscurity in the spiritual landscape – spiritual disorientation – when we can’t seem to access what we once knew.

The teachers who have shaped me invited me — whether explicitly or in the way they uniquely inhabited their life and calling — to engage with my soul.

Finding fluency in my body’s signals doesn’t mean life is easy or that I’m perfect, it means that I am learning. The learning has happened little by little in the tiniest of increments that I’ve savored the heck out of.

I awoke from a dream two years ago with a playful image of the Kingdom of God -- a new way of orienting to my faith.