Tag: writing
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The Mirror and The Window
What I enjoy most about writing is that it lets me reflect on lifeāthis wondrous, complex, ambiguous gift weāve been given. To write is to pause long enough to notice, to respect the joy and mystery of it all. Writing is a mirror. It reflects what I hear, see, and feel. Every week I take…
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For Those Who Want to Go Deeper
This blog began as a personal discipline. I found myself sitting in church, receiving a sermon like a consumerāāNice sermon, Reverendāāand moving on. But something in me wanted more engagement. What if, instead of moving on, I stayed with the message? Sat with it. Let it shape something in me, or be reflected back through…
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Free as a Brat
For many, the announcement of a āWord of the Yearā might feel trivial, especially when the chosen word is ābrat.ā Itās not about war, policy, climate crisis, or scientific breakthroughs. Itās a cultural blipāmildly amusing at best, eye-roll-inducing at worst. The redefinition of ābratāāfrom spoiled child to a blend of chaotic confidence, hedonism, and emotional…
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Top 30: Joy Edition
A Playlist of Things That Make Me Happy Mood: Grounded wonder ā¢ Quiet hope ā¢ Relational beauty Places That Stir the Soul Walking the dog through streets touched by early morning light Ice floes drifting in the Antarctic stillness Standing beneath the vast majesty of Kilimanjaro Wandering the streets of Hanoi at night Returning to…
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Quiet Joy
Thereās a quiet joy that comes from doing the same things, again and again, with purpose. Each day closes with Scripture. After the meetings, the meals, the movement of the day, I return to stillness. The light softens, the world quiets, and I open the textānot out of obligation, but to let the final word…
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Just Passing It On
It wasnāt really my kindness, not in the way people usually mean it. Two years ago, a student from China arrived at our college.Shy, polite, still finding his feet ā and his English.One Monday morning he came to see me, agitated and afraid.The story took time to piece together:heād been caught in an online scam,forced…
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If You Canāt See Me
Picture a man at the edge of a crowd. Not trying to stand out, not trying to blend in. Heās the one scanning the space, not nervously, not passively, but like someone looking for a familiar voice. That could be you. Youāre the one heās waiting for. Heās a touch over six feet tallātall enough…
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A Name Given by the Tribe
You donāt name yourself, not really.Thatās not how nicknames work. They arrive unexpectedly, quietlyālike a stray dog that decides to follow you home.You might not even notice it at first.But the people around you do.They see something, say something, and suddenly, there it is: a new name.And if it sticks, it sticks. For me, it…
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Letter to Myself
Dear Me at 70, I hope youāre still waking early,not out of duty, but because the morning offers something no other part of the day canāa soft kind of hushthat makes room for reflectionand lets you move gently into whatever comes next. I hope you still begin with the animalsātheir quiet reliance a steadying thing,a…
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What Would I Change About Modern Society?
Not everything that matters can be measured. Not generosity.Not endurance.Not the quiet resilience of a young man who studies through grief,or the kindness of a woman who smiles even when she misses her motherās funeral. In my eight years as principal of a university college, Iāve had the privilege of walking alongside students who arrived…
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Conversations with a Restless Library
I donāt curate.I donāt pre-select.I donāt build productivity playlists. I just hit shuffle on my entire music library and wait to see what sort of mood itās in. Some days, itās a model colleague ā thoughtful, supportive, gently nudging me into creative flow.Other days, it behaves like a caffeinated record-store assistant with a point to…
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Losing Track of TimeāBy Moving Through It
Iāve never been someone who loses track of time in stillness.Some people sit by the ocean and watch waves roll in like slow breath.They stare at the sky and say theyāre thinking about nothing.I respect that. I admire it, even. But it is not me. Stillness makes me restless. I lose track of time when…
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When Everything Happens
One minute Iām laughing with Kate Bowler, the next Iām quiet. Thatās the effect she hasāa sharp observer of lifeās contradictions, able to name both the absurd and the sacred in the same breath. She grew up in a Mennonite megachurch in Winnipegāan unlikely mix of pacifism and spectacle. She now teaches at Duke Divinity…
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The Gift of Quiet Hours
I usually go to bed at 9.00pm. After a full day, Iām ready for it. Thereās no fanfareājust a slow wind-down and sleep not far behind. And then I wake at 4.30am. No alarm, no urgency. Just the quiet sense that the day has begun. It feels like Iām the only one awakeāuntil I start…
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Morning Pages, Morning Peace
For me, writing is one of the most reliable sources of comfort. I donāt journal in the traditional senseāthereās no ādear diaryā and no record of what I did the day before. Instead, I write about something that has caught my attention, or I respond to a prompt like this one. Some mornings, my mind…
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What Excites Me Now
There was a time when excitement meant chasing new goals ā building a career, learning new things, and taking opportunities as they came. Iām not someone who lives for travel, but whether for work, family, or leisure, weāve ended up visiting every continent ā including some very wild places. Antarctica earlier this year was a…
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When Peace and Principle Collide
A reflection on ideological certainty and harmony I am known for being easy to get along with. And also, for being stubborn. Itās a combination that puzzles people. I donāt mind that. Iāve learned over time that harmony doesnāt come from sameness, and peace doesnāt come from everyone agreeing with me. I donāt need to…
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What Is Your Favorite Genre of Music? It depends on the day. And sometimes, it is a surprise.
Some people have a favourite genre like they have a favourite coffee order ā fixed, dependable, always the same. Iām not one of those people. For me, music is mood. Itās memory. Itās atmosphere and longing and curiosity all rolled together. My listening habits are not about allegiance to a particular genre but about what…
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A Small Echo of What You Gave
Over the past year, Iāve found myself expressing gratitude in a new way ā through writing. More specifically, through poems. Most Sundays, after church, I write a short reflective poem in response to the sermon. I started doing this quietly, almost experimentally, as a way of thinking more deeply about the message that I heard.…
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A Day in the Life (With Minor Interruptions)
My days start early. I get up around 4:30amāsometimes earlier, sometimes later. I never set an alarm. Itās just when I wake up. I wasnāt always a morning personāin my 20s I was the oppositeābut the older I get, the earlier I rise. The first thing I do is feed the animals. Both the dog…
