A little room
for thought.

We talk about beginnings as if they arrive with a clean edge: a new year, a new city, a Monday morning. But most of the time, beginning again is quieter. It is making breakfast after a hard night. It is opening the book you set aside. It is deciding that yesterday gets to be true without getting to be the whole story.

There is no ceremony required. The next small act is enough.

A personal reflection · Written for this journal

A cup warming your hands. The neighbor who always waves. The strange blue hour when the day has not quite let go. None of these things ask to be remembered, which may be why they are so easy to miss.

Attention is a small form of generosity. We offer a moment the dignity of being more than background, and in return it gives us a place to stand.

A personal reflection · Written for this journal

We are encouraged to introduce ourselves with finished sentences: what we do, what we believe, where we are going. But a person is not a summary. We contradict ourselves, revise our plans, and discover that an old certainty no longer fits.

Perhaps growing up is not arriving at a final shape. Perhaps it is learning to be at home in the making.

A personal reflection · Written for this journal