Write? How is that possible?! I’m stuck. Under water. Inspiration eludes me. I prefer a cup overflowing and now must make something out of nothing. I lament my creative poverty when a higher voice comes to the rescue.

As a child, Memorial Day brings visits to the cemetery, its grassy green fields blanketed in silence, winding paths, and strange stone markers…

Many people recognize we live in times that shake our highest values and deepest sources of meaning to the core.

Catching an archetype as it acts within one’s own consciousness builds more consciousness. The reward is increased choice, greater freedom, and deeper connection to oneself.

Midwestern prairie strikes me inconsolably barren when I first visit: vast swaths of flat earth, featureless corn fields, incessant wind, brutal heat.

Perched on the front porch of the house I occupy in a small-city, residential neighborhood, a couple strolling the sidewalk sees me and stops.